“Fuck off with your sofa units and strine green stripe patterns. I say never be complete, I say stop being perfect, I say let’s evolve… let the chips fall where they may.”

I have a confession. Oftentimes I think to myself how I would much rather be fabulously self-destructive, unconventional and raw than neat, pretty and successful by the world’s standards.

(‘Scuse the French. Censoring would have dilluted its meaning)

If two days ago, the night of the 1st of January 2010 were actually a true indication of what my life would be like at 20 years old, it would be irrational, useless and tiring. But why would this night seem to matter less and be shaken off as inconsequential if it were on any other date?

That is how I realised that the idea of “a new start” in a new year is vaguely ridiculous. When since the introduction of the Gregorian Calendar did we begin to celebrate and hail the restart of 365 days? And how, culturally, did this celebration suddenly entail the promise that a new year makes life different from the year that passed?

Yes, it’s true. We can plan and schedule our activities and aspirations within the walls of a new January, a new February, a new March. We are given the chance to adjust to writing “/10” on paper and think in new terms as a result. But life, what it is and what sustains it, has nothing to do with our man-made, external constructions of time.

The 31st is just as new as the 1st. We will carry the same hurt, bitterness, negative attitude or positive attitude from day to day. The real starts begin where there are shifts in paradigms, when your heart changes posture, in the establishments of new relationships, in lessons learned.

But we hide behind appointments.

………………

That’s what I like about “moments”. They have no calculated measure. They can imply a brief period in time, an exact point in time, an opportunity or a particular stage in history.

“Life is not about how many breaths you take. It is about the moments that take your breath away.”

(cheesy but true)