When I was a kid, I thought welcoming New Year’s Eve was something fun. Trumpets, fireworks, music and dances, people gathering…you name it.
Staying up until the next morning light had made me feel more grown-up at first. Only little kids have the exact bedtime, not later than nine or ten.
Growing up, there had been this almost endless debate about whether to celebrate it or not. Religious reasons and arguments about how useless the whole thing actually was.
I don’t really remember how long it has taken me to have finally come to this feeling of…pure indifference. Don’t like it that much, but don’t hate it either. Don’t have to do it but don’t mind if friends or anyone else ask you out for it.
It’s the same thing with the New Year resolutions, though. At first, it felt really fun. It was like your annual purposes…
…until you noticed that not all of them were fulfilled. Many didn’t come true. You started feeling that you weren’t being realistic.
So, you decided to cut down the list, to be as small as possible. Dream big as you may, but don’t forget: first things first. Don’t eat more than what you can actually chew.
Soon you realised: why wait for the New Year’s Eve to do that? Why not every day? After all, every day is a new day – regardless the date on the calendar.
Want to stay up late? No need to wait for the New Year’s Eve. Working overtime may have already done that to you so many times before.
So does heartbreak.
I don’t really do New Year’s Eve stuff anymore. Well, even if you find me in the crowd under the Jakarta night sky brightened by the fireworks every few seconds, there are probably three valid reasons for that:
1. I am that bored.
2. Somebody has asked me to join them.
3. I’m looking for stories or poetry inspirations…as usual.
So, happy New Year 2018, I guess.