viva la revolucion : new year

The new year is one of those cruel times that make me think about, you know, life, and what I'm doing with it. I'm sure it's not healthy to think so hard about something so apparently important. But still each year I make a mental list of things I should achieve. These are called new year's resolutions. Apparently they're quite common. And the best thing about them is I only have to keep them for a few weeks. Then the year isn't so new and everyone sticks their head back in the sand. And I can too.

The years have always come around with a speed that terrifies me, but I've always known what the next will bring. I've new-year's-resolved to do this and that. The uncertain future has been far off. Now here I am at the new year, with no house and no profession, a large white wine at midday, and not a clue where I'll be in six months time. Am i failing at doing life? 

I spent the 23 minutes between train connections last night walking up and down the sheltered part of the platform (which takes exactly one minute per circuit, in case you were wondering) composing a witty gumtree ad designed to trade basic Spanish for advanced English. I hate being the dunce that only has one language. And I need a hobby badly, right? I really do dislike new year.

This morning I was scrolling through facebook, aimlessly wasting precious minutes of my life, and saw a flashy article link to: 6 Harsh Truths That Will Make You a Better Person. I clicked the link with a mind to wasting more minutes on something that went like: 

1. Cheese really does make you fat 

2. Forget everything you thought you knew about stair sprints

etc.

What I got was a big ol' conscience lashing. This guy is ruthless. He doesn't give a damn about your feelings, in the best possible way. He's a caller-to-action. He's like, be bothered to do something or get the hell off my lawn. The internet around new year drips with these articles like cold leftover gravy from Christmas. Most are useless. Some are great. Like this essay by a guy with the shortest darn sentences I ever had the pleasure to devour. He's Oliver Mol. It was called, IF YOU GIVE UP, FUCK YOU. The title sums it up nicely.

These two ruthless gentlemen have been floating around in the think tank. Six solid slaps and some good inspirational swears. I immediately wanted to do something. Prove myself a valuable addition to society rather than just an effective means of disposing of baked foods. I didn't write my witty ad. I'm not very witty, actually. I did respond to a few though. I decided to learn something about economics, or something. I searched for second hand guitars on ebay. Then I remembered it's new year, and that makes these ideas for self-improvement into new year's resolutions. That gives them a half life of three weeks. Oh, even better. I'll have my surge of motivation with everyone else. Then I'll let my resolve peter out with theirs. No one will say anything because we've all failed together. 

I've decided, in my infinite wisdom, that some of the problem is the build up. The anticipation of what hardships the new year has in store. The chain-smoking, cake-devouring, and couch-sitting that go on in December because after new year all fun will be disallowed. I'm missing the logic involved in drenching oneself with addictive substances and behaviours until the very moment of quitting. Seems like that'd make it harder, no? And in February, when you're too busy for the gym and it's just too damn hard to be nicer to everyone in general, there's always next year. Besides, I love food. Screw everybody.

Maybe there's also the issue that no one really wants to wake up at five in the morning to don tights, be disgustingly pleasant to the general public, and ditch their most delicious vices. I can't speak for everyone, so here's just me: maybe I don't want it bad enough. Maybe I'm making new year's resolutions because that's just what you do. It's January 1st: time to be better at stuff. That's dumb. Stop doing that, world. It's clearly not working out. (And we both know neither am I.)

Call it denial. I don't want to face the fact I am walking into the year with my eyes closed and my hands splayed in front of me. But I've decided to revolutionise new year. I call  it the new year's revolution, because I'm endlessly punny.

 I've decided that new year's resolutions are destined to fail. I'll improve myself some other time. Some time when I can't think about it for weeks and stock up on damage points before the date hits. I thought maybe taking some emphasis off self improvement would make the whole experience more pleasant. This new year I tried thinking about all the good stuff I did achieve, not just how I can improve my sorry arse. And you know what? I liked it. I liked watching the fireworks from Trafalgar Square without having to think. It wasn't tainted with the fact that I was about to have to stop doing things I like, or start doing things I don't. So I agree with dear David Wong and his incredibly harsh article about how shit everyone is. We're all hopeless losers. But I don't think we should change because it's a new year.

I don't have a resolution for 2014. But that doesn't change the fact that I want a hobby and will get one. It also doesn't change the fact I've got no answer when people ask what I'm doing with life. Traveller's curse. To be constantly defending a lack of solid career and a pathetic bank balance. Double blow if you're also a struggling creative. Making new year's resolutions is a good way for us to give ourselves meaning. But the more I travel, the more I discover that meaning is relative. I don't have a career or a house, or savings of any description. I can't speak Spanish. Yet. But I have found my way around dozens of foreign public transport systems, and once I ate a cricket.

Happy new year, losers.