Navigating Life is a weekly series that explores practical, thoughtful ways to live better, with more ease, clarity, joy, and intention — at least from my perspective. Each week, I explore small shifts, habits, philosophies, and ideas designed to help you navigate life’s complexities with grace and presence and make everyday life feel more enjoyable and less rigid. If there’s something you’d like us to unpack, you can reach us at [email protected]. This week’s edition begins with a simple idea: maybe your goals aren’t failing, but you’re just aiming too predictably.

Happy 2026!
By now, you’ve probably set your goals for the year, or at least convinced yourself you know what you’re prioritising. Make more money. Get fitter. Save better. Be more disciplined. Be more put-together.
They’re not bad goals. They’re just… safe.

I used to set goals like that too, with all the seriousness of a board meeting. Everything had to be measurable, impressive, and defensible. SMART goals that sounded good out loud. Goals you could explain without embarrassment.

Then it occurred to me that maybe the problem isn’t a lack of ambition, but that we’ve drained all the joy, curiosity, and play out of wanting things.
So this year, I’m setting weird goals.

Let me explain
The goals I’m setting aren’t unserious or reckless. They’re designed to pull me into my life instead of making me manage it from a distance. They’re meant to make ordinary days feel intentional, theatrical, and slightly ridiculous in the best way. This way, I’ll end the year with a list of exciting things I’ve accomplished. Think of this less as a checklist and more as a permission slip. Here’s what that looks like.

Make life a little more dramatic (On purpose)
Life already has enough tension. What it lacks is intentional theatre.

Plan at least one dramatic exit. The kind you don’t explain afterwards. The kind where you leave the room and let people sit in silence. I’m talking middle of a restaurant, hand on the table, saying “NO MORE.” Heels clicking away. Ideally, with a car waiting outside.

Say something iconic, then disappear. At least once, I want to shout, “You’ll regret this when I’m famous,” exit dramatically, and refuse to clarify.

Dance on a table when the night didn’t start that way. Alcohol is optional here, but chaos is definitely encouraged.

Experience a properly dramatic kiss. Not a polite one. Not gentle. I’m talking heart-pumping, end-of-the-world, nuclear-explosion-nearby energy. The kind of kiss that feels like there’s a countdown somewhere to a disaster you both won’t survive, and this is all the time you have left.

Turn discipline into a game
In 2025, I learned that I resist discipline when it feels like punishment. So I’m redesigning it to feel like play. So, here are some things I’m doing differently to help me meet my goals.

Collect gold stars instead of chasing streaks. This year, every time I move my body meaningfully for 30 minutes — any workout — I earn a gold star. In my journal. Board. Anywhere. Imagine rating 2026 a 180-star year. Doesn’t that sound fun (and successful)?

Floss every single day. It doesn’t matter when or where. It just has to happen at least once.
Snack in bed using chopsticks only. That’s a great way to kill multiple birds with one stone. For one, no “cheese ball fingers”. Improved chopstick skills. Slower snacking. And you feel like a badass in the process.

Finish one book before buying three more. A small act of self-respect with built-in rewards. Instead of buying books I won’t read on a whim, I can encourage the reading habit a little more.

Get dopamine from cleaning and organising, not spending. This is aspirational, but I believe in growth. You should, too. Cleaning is also a great way to meditate or stack up habits, and listen to a podcast.

Respond to emails immediately moving forward because future-me deserves less anxiety.

Make curiosity a non-negotiable
Somewhere along the line, adulthood convinced us that curiosity is optional. I disagree.

Cook one unfamiliar dish every two weeks. I have generated a random list of 26 countries. Every other week, I’ll cook one dish from one of them, even if imperfect. The point is unfamiliar grocery aisles, new ingredients, and curiosity over comfort. You never know. It might spark some travel inspiration.

Learn oddly specific skills. Like choosing the sweetest clementine by touch alone.

Master one unbeatable recipe for each meal. A yoghurt bowl for breakfast. A high-protein lunch. A jollof rice or spicy stew that never misses. Something no one can beat me at.

Stop buying Greek yoghurt and learn to make it instead. This is partly about money, partly about pride. Do you have any idea how much I’d save when I pull this off and stop buying Mich and Kay or Melonypine?

Keep one plant alive. After being a negligent plant mom in 2025, I’d like to be better at it by just focusing on one plant, at least. It could be flowers, ugwu, or hot peppers. Bonus points if it’s something I use regularly.

Move through the world differently
Some goals don’t look impressive on paper, but they quietly change everything.

Act like the creative director of my life. Plan things. Edit decisions. Curating each moment.

Dress like life is well put together, even when it’s not. Wear yellow like the sun, at least once.

Learn specific phrases in another language purely for drama. Imagine saying “je suis fatiguée” loudly, to no one in particular, while fanning yourself vigorously. Dramatic, yes, but why not?

Notice one small thing every day that astonishes you. This will force you to get still and find joy in the little things. A shadow. A sentence. A perfectly-shaped spoon. An unassuming crunchy leaf.

Goals that require courage (Quietly)
Not all bravery is loud, and true confidence comes from trying things out. Which brings me to rejection exposure/therapy.

Collect 100 rejections. Real ones. The kind that proves you tried.

Go on weird side quests. Apply for a beauty pageant. Walk a runway. Feature in a music video. Get paid to pet-sit.

Sleep for 12 hours straight. Shockingly ambitious. Harder (to me) than it sounds.

Go on three dates with bald men. Strictly for research. Applications open in February.

Do things that make you feel alive
Organise a monthly photoshoot. Professional. By yourself with a tripod and self-timer. Selfies. Doesn’t matter. The idea is to take official pictures that reflect how you look throughout the year.

Own fewer Stanley Cups, because it’s gotten out of hand. Ideally, I’d have no more than 5, one for each of my different personalities.

Tell people you love them way more often. Pay a compliment once it’s in your head. Make someone’s day. Be a little louder, a little kinder.

Plan a different solo date every month. Restaurant. Window shopping. Group dancing with strangers.

Get creative with it. Find goals that suit you, where you are right now. It doesn’t have to make sense to everyone. Do something that scares you, like public speaking. Declutter a room every month. Commit to responding to emails immediately. Make a special outfit to wear every holiday, like Christmas and Easter. Finish every project you start. Send birthday letters via email.

Why this matters
The point of this is not to complete every item on the list. It’s important to remember that life is for living, not just improving.

We spend so much time chasing outcomes that we forget to design experiences. Weird goals pull you back into your body, your choices, and your days. They make you present.

So if your goals this year feel heavy, joyless, or overly serious, try adding one that makes no sense on paper but makes you feel awake and “fergalicious”.

And if you have a weird resolution of your own, tell us. I’m always open to updating my list. After all, this is a living document. Just like you.