Despite being Mayor of the Land Where Anything Can Happen, I’m comfortable saying with certainty that 2013 will not be My Year. This isn’t to sound cynical or pessimistic or negative. I’m very much not any of these things. But to anyone who has had a conversation with me longer than 10 minutes at any time in 2012, this should be fairly evident. Whenever My Year will be, it won’t happen in 2013.
Somehow, saying that 2013 won’t be My Year is somewhat provocative. Or at least, some sort of bold declaration. It really shouldn’t be. The reasons why are obvious.
1. I don’t like taking showers. Anyone intent on having Their Year needs to take showers. I believe that cleanliness takes a village consisting of Arm and Hammer, a commitment to not sweating, and the occasional shower before going out on a Friday night.
2. I don’t like drinking wine. Any year worth remembering needs to be celebrated with wine. Unless, one’s My year is so remarkable you have achieved that lofty status where one can refuse a drink and it is not considered weird. When the world decides to celebrate its good fortune with Samuel Adams or Ginger Ale, I’ll be ready.
3. It’s possible I’ve already had my year. I was 14, 18 and 21 are all early contenders. Who knows? 3 could have been great.
4. Even if it was possible, I wouldn’t even know what My Year would consist of. Who would be in it? What would I be doing? How would it change my future? Does one realize when their year is happening?
In some ways, this reality is so obvious, I won’t even argue it further. Everyone should feel comfortable saying out loud that the New Year will not be Your Year. The real question isn’t whether or not it will be, but if I should still pretend like it will be. Should I live the cliche, shoot for the moon. Land in the clouds. Whatever. Is living like the new year will be Your Year the best way to approach life.
I’m not even comfortable with that. As Mayor of the Land Where Anything Can Happen, the central tenet to my existence is that amazing things happen because they do. Not because I did anything more than following Life’s plan, putting myself in a situation where something good happened. I won’t ever have a wonderful life. Life, as it happens to be, is wonderful. I experience its wonderfulness just because I’m living. Not because I particularly earned it.
My Year suggests that Life is predisposed to work in your favor. And that you could plan for it. Work for it. Claim it. I definitely don’t agree.
In order to qualify for a My Year, I’d have to ultimately change the way I think about the world. Which isn’t going to happen. I don’t really believe in God. Or Destiny. Or Fate. Which means I do not believe that my existence is predisposed to experiencing a future with happiness or achievement. And while there’s an allure of control that I’m not sure I’ll learn to embrace nor will I hope that I do, it’s hard to live a life with intention when chance has the higher success rate.
Which is not to say 2013 won’t be a good year. I can’t say that it won’t be. In fact, I hereby declare that 2013 is the year where I will pay my rent on time. 2013 will be the year where I concede victory to my receding hairline and shave what’s left on my head off. 2013 will be the year where I buy 12 monthly Metrocards. 2013 will be the year I only make women cry for legitimate reasons. 2013 will be the year I wear socks only once before I wear them again before washing them. Of course, this won’t make it a successful year. But given the fact I can’t remember a year without having experienced love and friendship and music and adventure and chaos and sleep, I’ll simply show the universe my gratitude by becoming a, slightly, better person.
Besides. If you didn’t put your work in during 2012, you probably won’t have Your Year. If having your My Year is important to you, dedicate your 2013 to making it happen. I pray that in 2014, you get everything you ever wanted. In the meantime, anticipate wonderful things happening because wonderful things happen. Not because you earned them. 2013 will be year like the rest. I won’t expect or demand good things to happen. I just keep my eyes open when they do. And thank the universe for, once again, making a cameo appearance in my life, the one I accidentally became conscious about 23 years ago.