I love the beginning of January. It gives
off a sparkly aura of space, the year ahead stretched out to infinity. It’s a
day when you can legitimately, if legitimate is what you need, believe that you
can relax, there’s plenty of time for everything. As for the notion of getting
older, it’s a far away fantasy, it ain’t happening today. It’s going to be 2015
for a long, long time. Oh yes.
That figure rolling over again is months
and months away. At the beginning of January a month seems like a very
long time and you’ve got 12 of them for heaven’s sake!
Pause. OK 12 isn’t such a big number,
better stick to 360 odd. Forget about the months; think about how many days
you’ve got. Another Pause as imagination gets out of hand and an image of
numbers running down faster than the speed of light intrudes very rudely.
Probably best to forget about the numbers altogether.
Alright, where was I? Ah yes, in fantasy
land. It’s also a day when you can make yourself a bunch of promises and
believe you’ll keep them. It’s all about faith, the beginning of January, yes
I can! Yes I even want to!
Right. I roll up my metaphorical sleeves.
Where should I start? Well, I discovered one thing I can’t do and get away with
it, no matter what day of the year it is and that’s eat a yummy fluffy omelet
for lunch then follow it up with a delicious cup of hot tea and an ecstatically
orgasmic slab of dark creamy melt in your mouth chocolate. Hmm, my taste buds
had a field day but my digestion didn’t. If you get my drift. Okay, so why not
make that one of my New Year Resolutions?
Hmm. Maybe I should just give up eggs.
They’re kind of prosaic, and no matter how good my omelet is it doesn’t really
melt in my mouth or stimulate my imagination, and I’m a writer, so I have to
take that into account. My career is a serious business.
Ha! You see, the beginning of January is a
very special time, a time when creative thinking comes into its own.
But as quickly as it came it went. I sit
and stare at the screen, suddenly bereft of words. Rather wish I hadn’t
finished that slab. Then I slap my forehead! I bought two yesterday.
Actually I bought four. Ah well. In for a
penny in for a pound. Definitely not having an omelet for supper. Definitely
going to start running tomorrow. Or the next day. Or next week or next month. Or
if I find I’m too busy – being creative, you know – I can do it next year. Next
year’s just around the corner.
No, I haven’t been drinking champagne, I
promise. Are you kidding? Champagne, omelets, hot tea and dark chocolate? Even
I’m not that nuts.
Champagne, indigestion and silliness aside,
I only have one New Year’s Resolution. Some time ago I watched an old episode
of Grey’s Anatomy where the character Meredith said:
“Benjamin Franklin said never put off till
tomorrow what you can complete today. But the thing is, we have to sweep
today’s possibilities under tomorrow’s rug until we can’t any more, until we
finally understand for ourselves what Benjamin Franklin meant.
That waking is better than sleeping. That
knowing is better than wondering. And even the worst failure, the most
intractable mistake beats the hell out of never trying.”
It’s true. Well, it’s true for me. Nothing
is worse than the mind-numbing, heart deadening, soul freezing limbo of doing
nothing. So my resolution is to make this a year of action and fly in the face of
fear of flying. Oh hang on, I’ve got another - resolution, I mean; carry on
eating yummy smooth melt in your mouth dark chocolate - because it’s good for
you and feeling good when you eat it is very good for you - just not in
combination with omelets.
