The new year always starts in February.
It’s a tactic I’ve maintained the past few years in order to preserve my sanity. If I were to subscribe to the traditional notion of new year’s resolutions and the fact that January 1st is the time to turn over a new leaf, then I would never accomplish anything. January is for wasting. It exists only for being forlorn and lamenting how quickly the previous year passed you by, and how you never achieved anything.
By you, I mean me.
February. Now, February is the time for a new beginning. I’ve had four solid weeks of procrastination and allowed the simmering sense of self-loathing to dissipate. I am a moth, noticing the light for the first time, gaining momentum on my journey. Don’t worry, I won’t self destruct, I know the light is dangerous, in the same way I know building an idea of what 2012 will hold is pointless. Things never go the way you imagine, only the way you plan and carefully execute.
This is my year. Not yours. Don’t you forget that. (This time you really means you).
So, if you’re feeling glum that you’ve failed to do whatever ridiculous thing you set out to do when the clock struck midnight thirty-one days ago. Don’t fret. Join me. This is the new year, right now. “Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.”
And that’s the story I’m sticking with.