Saturday, January 1, 2011

"Be more like the man you were made to be"

The first second of the first day of the new year. The symbolism of the new beginning, full of potential, made of possibility. I'm not immune to it - last night, I chose to stay home, and made sure to be writing as the clock and the calendar rolled over. I wanted to begin as I meant to go on, to remind myself of who I am, and what I am capable of. I am a writer. I use symbolism to shore myself against ruin.

Still, for all I love the symbolism inherent in the fresh page on the calendar, I don't believe in making new year's resolutions. Not because I think I am already practically perfect in every way, but because I know I am not. I know that over the course of the year I will make mistakes, and stumble, I will hurt the people I love. I will be less than the person I want to be, and I don't want to wait until next January to fix that.

Today is a new beginning, full of possibility and potential. But tomorrow is as well, and there is a magic in that.


  1. I spent New Years alone too, and it was lovely. I treated myself to a decadent sushi dinner, reading Octavia Butler. Then at home, at the stroke of midnight, I was reading a letter I'd found that my mother had written to her mother, about my birth--about how well she was eating in the hospital and how she'd "forgotten the ways of babies" (my next-oldest sibling is six years older), and it was a delight to rediscover them. It was a sweet night :)

  2. That does sound like a sweet night. And I love that bit about forgetting the ways of babies. Happy New Year, dear.