What a treat the feeling of New Year's is supposed to be, a fresh start if you've had a crummy year, the prospect of yet a better year ahead if you were successful. New Year's pretty much covers all bases. People will resolve to quit smoking only to take it up again, women (like me?) will promise to have more self-respect and to give up all negative male involvement. Let's not even begin to count the girls of the "I'll lose more weight because I'm still too fat" population... whether or not they really need loose a significant amount is disputable. All the same, I love the idea. I rarely make a firm resolution I keep too...I haven't ever been jazzed by the concept of designating only one day a year the day for self-improvement, but I suppose any means we have to fool our fellow americans into becoming better citizens/people should probably be taken, albeit the means is mass- marketed, advertised, and produced on paper napkins, shiny hats and gaudy noisemakers. In our society, such lengths are neccessary to get an idea across, after all. Something must first be seeable and hearable in order to eventually be seen or heard....makes too much sense, no?
This is where I change tangents and talk about the Prince song. Does anyone realize how much of a marketing genius he is for writing that little pop ditty back then in the mystical 80s? He's probably made bank from all the times it's been played already, and we're not even a week into the new year. Smart guy indeed. He creates his own advertising and doesn't need to spend zillions of dollars on promo. With little stunts like changing his name to AFKAP, (Artist Formerly known as Prince) word of mouth does the trick for him. That always seems to work as a general rule- create controversy and waste not one more red cent on advertising.
But back to new year's. For my own frame of mind this year, I need to get some balls. Yes. Definitely balls. If I could do this, about 9 out of the top ten problems could be solved, the remaining conflicts directly linked to conflicts of finance. So basically, if i had balls and cash, i'd be set. No more expected worries for 1999. But it's not so simple, though the balls part of it can only come from within me. I mean, I'd have to get balls, but I'd have to consistenly keep them for an entire year. That means that for a year, I don't shy away or say "never mind" whenever someone asks for my opinion or wants my advice. I'll sincerely try to feel like what I say is not trite and inconsequential, whether or not it really is.
And so it's begun, a whole brand-spanking new calendar year. A new year is 365 open days, 365 blank pages on which to write in red ball point pen with flair, endless oppurtunities towards things I can't even fathom now at a mere day three. It's exciting to envision the potential and possibilities this year shall unfold...i'm peeing in my pants in anticipation. I love that the 363 days left are up to ME to manipulate and plan in the manner I wish. That's a lot of responsibility...to consistently be on the ball, with balls, and to have a ball while doing it is some difficult stuff. I hope i'm up to it. No, wait....I AM up to it. After all, why shouldn't I be allowed to want?