by nu_lee2003 Fri Dec 31, 2010 9:59 amHappy New Year
And I hope it IS happy for every one of us. (Well, not for terrorists, rapists, murderers, wildlife poachers, politicians and other violence-led, power-crazy and corrupt people, but you know what I mean.)
Isn’t it strange, though, that while the big day is January 1, the far, far bigger day is December 31? That’s the day the party animals look forward to; even non-party animals tend to see it as the culmination of the year, a possible end to some things whether good or bad. So there’s a very high level of excitement one way or another for December 31. January 1, in my experience, is a low-key day, mainly, in my experience, spent coping with a hangover. NOT a happy new day at all.
For a while now, I’ve wanted to not party on New Year’s Eve. I used to enjoy parties very much in my twenties and early thirties, with lots of alcohol, loud music and much dancing (i.e., jumping up and down). They were a blast and I really enjoyed them, but now I’d frankly rather have a quiet dinner at home and see out the old year and bring in the new with a good book in my hands and an abiding sense of peace.
I have this funny superstition about New Year’s Eve. I believe that where you are and what you do at the turn of the year is where you are likely to be and what you are likely to be doing in the new year. Naturally, this doesn’t happen all the time. But it’s happened enough for me to create this superstition in the first place, and if it doesn’t happen, well, then, what did I expect anyway, it’s a superstition, isn’t it?
So what are you doing tonight (for some people, this weekend)? My colleagues in Brunch Bombay, Mignonne and Swati are off sailing with friends. Or rather, Swati, who’s the adventurous type, will be sailing, and Mignonne will be at the bungalow on the beach, reading.
My colleague Sayli in the political bureau is happily planning a banquet of her favourite foods, that’s how she wants to start her new year, not thinking of diets and other sad things.
I plan to be home with seafood from Gajalee (my favourite) and a mountaineering book by Frank Smythe whom I love with all my heart and soul (this is a man who “ate an uncompromising sardine” at 1.30 am just before his first ever summit and was subjected to “a sternly critical” inspection by a room full
And I hope it IS happy for every one of us. (Well, not for terrorists, rapists, murderers, wildlife poachers, politicians and other violence-led, power-crazy and corrupt people, but you know what I mean.)
Isn’t it strange, though, that while the big day is January 1, the far, far bigger day is December 31? That’s the day the party animals look forward to; even non-party animals tend to see it as the culmination of the year, a possible end to some things whether good or bad. So there’s a very high level of excitement one way or another for December 31. January 1, in my experience, is a low-key day, mainly, in my experience, spent coping with a hangover. NOT a happy new day at all.
For a while now, I’ve wanted to not party on New Year’s Eve. I used to enjoy parties very much in my twenties and early thirties, with lots of alcohol, loud music and much dancing (i.e., jumping up and down). They were a blast and I really enjoyed them, but now I’d frankly rather have a quiet dinner at home and see out the old year and bring in the new with a good book in my hands and an abiding sense of peace.
I have this funny superstition about New Year’s Eve. I believe that where you are and what you do at the turn of the year is where you are likely to be and what you are likely to be doing in the new year. Naturally, this doesn’t happen all the time. But it’s happened enough for me to create this superstition in the first place, and if it doesn’t happen, well, then, what did I expect anyway, it’s a superstition, isn’t it?
So what are you doing tonight (for some people, this weekend)? My colleagues in Brunch Bombay, Mignonne and Swati are off sailing with friends. Or rather, Swati, who’s the adventurous type, will be sailing, and Mignonne will be at the bungalow on the beach, reading.
My colleague Sayli in the political bureau is happily planning a banquet of her favourite foods, that’s how she wants to start her new year, not thinking of diets and other sad things.
I plan to be home with seafood from Gajalee (my favourite) and a mountaineering book by Frank Smythe whom I love with all my heart and soul (this is a man who “ate an uncompromising sardine” at 1.30 am just before his first ever summit and was subjected to “a sternly critical” inspection by a room full
