We did drink champagne (yipee) but we didn’t dance on the table – we just danced the regular way, on a make-shift dance floor at a tiny jazz bar. I’ve never listened to jazz; I had an idea that it is an un-understandable form of music that just wouldn’t suit me. Turns out that I was wrong and rather happy to be wrong. We played with the thought of going somewhere else for more dancing – but nah, too grown-up for a rowdy, too-old/too-young new year’s eve crowd that is probably already too drunk to do anything good for anyone who isn’t at the same level of inebriation.
So, all in all, a very nice way to say hello to 2013.
I want to make resolutions this year. I’ve always been a skeptic when it comes to them, but this year, I’m turning 29 – and that is momentous, right? Not as momentous as 30 (because that’s the socially prescribed scary age for modern women) but significant considering the fact that after this, I would never again turn an age that begins with ‘2’. Actually, we can make any age special, if we want to. So yes, I want to make this year special.
The very first thing that comes to mind are the mundane ones, the small changes that I believe would somehow transform my life in a major way; everyone have some of those.
Top of that list is read the newspaper everyday. I have been resolving to do that since I was about 15 and I haven’t been able to pull it off. Perhaps, this would be my lucky year.
But before I get carried away with the nitty gritty details, I read somewhere that one really shouldn’t get bogged down with a million and one resolutions. The key is to be realistic and specific. Prioritise. Do the stuff you really want to get done – and not the “world peace” kind of stuff, just those that can be done.
The only resolution I ever managed to keep was to make my bed every morning, and its such a tiny achievement but it felt pretty awesome. I have a good mind to replicate that success. I probably need a couple more weeks to get this straight, but I intend to see the list through this time. After all, I can’t play the child anymore when my 29th year is almost upon me.
Speaking of which, the birthday is in 4 months time. I wonder which cake I should have this time around. Definitely something very, very, very yummy.
Today, I read this article by Zadie Smith (I can read absolutely anything she writes and feel ridiculously happy) on the difference between pleasure and joy – where she said some magnificent things, such as “Joy is such a human madness”.
In it, she quoted a friend of Julian Barnes (on loss and mourning):
It hurts just as much as it is worth.
To that, she said:
Why would anyone accept such a crazy deal? Surely if we were sane and reasonable we would every time choose a pleasure over a joy, as animals themselves sensibly do. The end of a pleasure brings no great harm to anyone, after all, and can always be replaced with another of more or less equal worth.
I think: no guts, no glory, right?
At least, I shall allow myself to think that until I turn 29 and magically morph into a full-fledged, thinking adult who doesn’t believe in the grandness of guts or glory.