© Pierre Maré,
2004 - 2007
Offbeat 80
A new year is on its way. As far as I can tell, the only distinction between the years is the digit. For my part, next year will be a continuation of this year. I don’t intend to reinvent myself as a rock star or matinee idol. Whatever distinguishes the year for me will be something I do or experience. The numbers don’t give any clues.
I like the Chinese way of naming years. Last year may have been a ‘cute little rabbit’, this year could be an ‘overconfident rooster’ and next year a ‘pig with an apple in its mouth’, etcetera, so stay at home, try to avoid everything with more than three legs, and possibly expect to lose a limb or something in a bizarre accident in a barnyard. Unfortunately I don’t understand the Chinese characteristics of the animals, so I can’t talk much about why they choose those particular names. Perhaps it is a culinary thing.
It seems as if I am not the only one with problems distinguishing one year from another.
Given that most people lead ordinary lives that entail a monotonous, undistinguished day-to-day grind (myself included), the problem of distinguishing one year from another is often quite difficult. The things that mark one year from another, in most individuals’ points of view, for instance, getting married, having a child or getting divorced, are not particularly common, unless you are one of those people who regularly feature in the gossip pages of the Hollywood tabloids. So the years tend to pass in a grey blur.
Fortunately there are New Year’s resolutions. The New Year’s resolution gives everyone something to remember, for instance, ‘the year that George stopped smoking but took up playing the ukelele to keep his mind off his frustration’, or ‘the year Aunt Sadie resolved to see the world but forgot to turn off the oven before she left home’.
New Year’s resolutions improve individuals who stick to them and enliven everything when they go spectacularly wrong. I’m all in favour of them.
Last year, I resolved to watch less television. My daughter helped me out. With the exception of a couple of rental movies and the marvelous ‘Mythbusters’ series, starring Jamie Hyneman and Adam Savage, there was nothing I made any particular effort to watch. My daughter’s insistence on kids movies of various hues, but mainly pink (in the case of Barbie) and purple (in the case of Barney), made the television set a thing to be avoided, unless we had to squabble over whether it was to be Barbie or Mythbusters for the evening.
This coming year, I intend to attempt to get fairly healthy. So while the Chinese may be finding their way through the year of the ‘unappetising monkey’ or the year of the ‘totally revolting, I’m-so-going-on-a-starvation-diet, rat’, my year will be the year of the ‘green thing that grows in the ground or on a tree, with low fat yoghurt or light salad dressing’.
For simplicity’s sake I think I will call it 2006.
I wonder what my neighbours will call it? The year of the ‘sweaty, red, puffing, wobbly thing in baggy shorts’, or the year of ‘keeping our windows closed in the early morning to avoid a seriously rude awakening’?
On the other hand, there are a couple of things that won’t be going away that quickly. I don’t have the courage to quit smoking yet, or the desire to play the ukelele. Steak will still feature from time to time, albeit probably without the fat that gives it its flavour. Still, miracles can be achieved with a dusting of cloves and coriander. I’m still debating the roast chicken thing. What’s the point of roast chicken without the skin? Fish, I am afraid, are in for a very tough time.
In my Offbeat column from about the same time last year, I made a point of stating that the best New Year’s resolutions are those that don’t require much effort, because at least you can look back and say you did what you set out to do. I’m not so sure about this one. Still, you never know. Best keep your windows closed in the early mornings. Even if you don’t have any modesty, please help me preserve mine.
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