Tomorrow is just another Sunday that follows a Saturday, the same way it has since the day I was born. And I believe it’s been happening for a long time before that as well. Whether I call it the 1st of January, or the 29th of February, it will still be the day that follows Saturday and precedes Monday…like it has all my life.
The jaded one in me finds it difficult to attach any significance to this, the same way I find it difficult to attach any significance to a birthday. And it seems the pragmatist in me agrees. We start dying the moment we take our first breath, and we start living the moment we realise that we’re dying. And in between, we take it all for granted and feel like martyrs or victims the moment we’re faced with a challenge.
New Year’s day is up there with Valentine’s Day, Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, and every other stupid capitalistic bullshit event that was ever coined to give us a false sense of comfort that we’re celebrating life through these events when in fact we’re simply celebrating events and forget that life is being neglected in between, because we’re conditioned to limit our celebrations only to those days deemed worthy of celebration, and we take for granted the rest of the moments that occur at times that have not been deemed significant by the great ones.
Fuck occasions. Celebrate life. It’s a whole lot more rewarding, and cheaper!