New Year Resurrections
For Gregorian followers, New Year’s Day could be one of the most intriguing seasons of the year. Not that it’s a season actually- it’s just a mere eve prolonged and exaggerated by emergency room escapades due to the fireworks which could really be harmful to the appendages. (I actually remember a high school friend of mine who did a text brigade just last Christmas which somehow read like, “Ingat sa mga paputok. Mahirap mag-DOTA nang hind buo ang mga daliri“). Think that the first minutes of the first month of the year could easily translate to the first weird moments with the first buddies and rivals you meet on the first days of the year. The people surrounding you might have grown from their worn-out fashion statements, hair color and cuts, colors of their contact lenses and their pockmarks gone. But the most exciting intrigue would be if their attitude (In the tier of their respective outlooks in life) has indeed changed. Bring in the meja de noche.
I have to thank how the celebration calls for the ubiquitous slogan of Obama. The thing that never changes, or course. Change. And more exactly, changing for the better.
I hate to admit it but I used to write my new year’s resolution in bold letters on a flimsy bond paper, and tape it subsequently on a wall somewhere in our residence. It was a private ritual I did to note the guidelines on how to completely turn my growing horns into luminous halos. And it was hard doing that, you know. The guilt was incomparable every time I do or do not do something, wherein I occasionally have to glance on that paper. It was like a cheap disgusting conscience.
I did it for maybe three years back in high school. One of the most identified resolution I inscribed was something like, “I will use my money well. I will earn money too.” Apparently, I was too indolent to make a noble move to raise my own disposable income. That was whenever I get a kickback from my daily allowance per day, a heap of twenty-peso bills would form underneath my mattress- which, I watched somewhere, was the most universal spot to hide some guy’s own treasure. Afterward, I’d literally clasp it and feel the “sacrifice” I have just undergone. But of course, it’ll officially land on my mom’s bag. And consequently, I’d ask my self “What the hell did I just do that?”
If you think that’s bad, I too wrote something like, “Magpapataba na ‘ko.” Hello, have you seen me in high school? I was a praying mantis! No offense to the praying mantises, but I was no nearer the border of “fit.” But I’m not saying that I’m a health buff right now, although I look more in shape than the past three or more years ago. I sometimes blamed my self for not eating, you know, veggies. Please understand: I am not and I’ll never be a devout herbivore. The horror!
And maybe, I never kept up with that resolution since it is always impossible for me to be a fan of sports other than badminton, wall climbing, volleyball, and yes, scrabble. Hey, what if next school year, or this coming summer, I‘ll go engage my self in a particular sport? Ha? Ha?
And for this year, I haven’t actually written my New Year resolutions on any thing yet. Maybe I’m too oblivious that there’s a global crisis out there and I’m here rehashing my awful mistakes in the past, on a free hosting site. What I am to write? Am I still thinking of my self and my family and my friends right now? But, you see, I’m not anyone’s hero.
Realistically, there are too many promises to etch on a boulder that’ll stand even on weathering. In conclusion, I’m saying that I’m not promising anything. I’ll just go on with this life and be good, nice, pleasing, intelligent and understanding as long as I can be. Join me.