Each year, I try to gaze into the future to see what it will hold. Of course, all I see is blackness because I’ve shaken this Magic 8 Ball so much the little prism inside has completely lost its buoyancy.
There’s a long list of requests I have for this year (making me no different than a billion other people) but I can’t say that’s what a new year is about. New Year’s is not about looking back at the past and regretting a few things so you can change them later on. Or about a little plastic ball giving you cliché anecdotes about aspects of your life. It’s also not about the thousand “Best of…” lists that we force ourselves to believe so we can legitimize our correctness in listening to Adele’s new album or seeing George Clooney in Ides of March.
It’s about goals. Not resolutions, but goals; tangible items to achieve.
Each new year is a fresh start. A global metaphor for people to wake up on the first of January and, after ingesting unhealthy amounts of bacon and fried rice for breakfast, going back to sleep, waking up again to dry heave, then watching The Rock on the USA Network and then having Cap’n Crunch for lunch…and then finally taking a deep metaphorical breath that represents the recognition of a new chapter in our lives.
The year 2012 has potential to be great. Father Time has been telling 2012 this since middle school. Now 2012 just needs to apply himself. And he can only be great if we let him be great.
So the next time I’m crossing 6th Avenue and I gaze into the shallow puddle – which has collected itself at the crosswalk and has been dyed pink from bleeding confetti – I’ll look at my distorted reflection and say “Yes, that is a good idea. Give it a shot.”
And whether “that” is an idea for a new writing project, song lyric, or how I can diversify my cheeseburger toppings the next time I’m out to dinner, I’ll accept it as an idea that has the potential to be awesome. I mean, after all, if the Mayans are right, I’m due to vaporize by December of this year, so if I can’t find John Cusack to guide me to safety by Thanksgiving, I’m screwed anyway.
I want this dawning of a new year to represent my motivation for success. I want to spend the year finding out whether or not I can be successful at the things I love. I recently asked someone: “How do you know where you fit in the writing world?” And to sum up the awesomely realistic, and hopefully encouraging answer, he said: “When you know, you know.”
Well I won’t know anything unless I try. And nothing is passionate without heart. So yes, writing and passion and tireless effort at something great is worth it. We all have to start somewhere. And what better place than the beginning?
Here I come, 2012.
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