There is something about the
year 2007 that makes me optimistic. True, the start of every year brings (or at
least is supposed to bring) a refreshed feeling of shedding off all that was
detested in the past year, waking up with all the promises of getting to start
anew. It allows a person the hope that the new year will also be a start of
something good, something better than the last, something grand and pivotal for
one’s life. If anything, it gives us the excuse to try our damned best to look
forward, forgive ourselves of past mistakes and be able to delight in the
possibilities of the future.
And then you reach a certain
age and realize that it’s all an illusion. What’s the big deal about new years?
It happens every year anyway. It’s just another day and no amount of
polka-dotted clothes and coin-jingling can make it more important than any
other day of the year. In fact, it’s to be feared because it signals another
year added to your age while everything else remains the same, if not a change
for the worse, in your life.
It’s very much like the first
day of school. You go to school excitedly with your new bag, almost new shoes,
maybe new socks, possibly a new hairstyle and (if you’re lucky and have
outgrown last year’s uniforms) new uniforms (probably a size or two too big for
you so you can still use it until you graduate). You meet some new classmates and
mostly old ones who have their own sets of new things that are a lot better
than yours (mostly because theirs really are
new) then you start feeling low and hope that nobody notices the hand-me-down
textbooks from your elder siblings. Nevertheless you make the most out of it
with all your notebooks wrapped in plastic cover, fragrant and creaseless in
their newness. The sight of the long newly sharpened pencils and perfumed and
colorful eraser is enough to make you want to do well in school and end the
year on the top honors list. So you promise yourself that and listen intently
as the teacher introduces herself and the class and you make a mental note of never
yawning in class because she hates students yawning while she’s lecturing. And
you’re raring to start taking notes in the best penmanship you can muster but
then somewhere along the school year you forget all of these promises and your
notebooks are filled with scribbles and your now-not-so-new bag is sticky
inside because of the juice that leaked when you brought your baon one time. Not
to mention that all your notebooks are permanently orange-stained and the lines
smudged at the edges after the juice has dried. And you can’t find your dirty
nauseating eraser so you now borrow from your seatmate every time you misspell
words, which is often. And you wish the school year ends. Fast.
But there is something in the
year 2007 that makes me more hopeful than usual. It could very well turn out to
be one of those boring years where nothing significant stands out. I could just
be waiting for it to end by the time September rolls in. Or earlier. But maybe
one also comes at a certain age when she learns to appreciate the unknown and accept
that erasers will get lost eventually but all those notes she took still count
for something. Perhaps it has something to do with all the astrologers (both
Western and Eastern) predicting good fortune for me (a Capricorn and a sheep,
monkeys are lucky too so even if I turn out to be one, ha! Still safe!) this
year. Maybe because I am finally working on my novel, a dream I have had since
the beginning of time, and thus the possibility to finally have a book
published is within reach. Or it could just be that I’ve grown tired of
cynicism and have decided to be happy and positive for a change.
It’s been two months since
the year started. At the end of 2007, I’ll reread this entry and either be
sorely disappointed or smile at a promise granted.
Novel page count: 118.
