Sunday January 6, 2013
A year of lessons
SO, 2012 was the year in which I learned that I may love literature but that I will never carry a torch for Shakespeare; that I love my literature lecturer despite her protests that Shakespeare is a gem.
I learnt family ties are the true protein of a happy man, that friends are the seasoning that enhances the experience of living.
I misunderstood before that love is to be found but recognised recently that love is actually to be given. And ever since, I have been absolutely stubborn about not accepting any other definitions. I also figured out that the world is a cruel chessboard where the king is money, the queen is religion, and the rest of us are pawns of greed.
I familiarised myself with the punishing guilt that haunts your mind when you discover you actually love doing something that is outlawed by your conscience.
I understood that memories are presents from the past and photographs are the interest that you generate from these memories – I’m going to get a camera this year!
Then I stumbled upon the distaste that being a girl who loves football can elicit and realised that my mother’s steely-eyed looks will never cease over this. Cheers, I will wing away with a Wayne Rooney or a Van Persie goal!
But what truly made 2012 for me is the fact that it was the year I came to fully accept myself, all my assets and liabilities, my wussiness and courage, my bracing determination, my awkward self-expressions, and my infuriating habit of using everything till it is in pieces.
Yes, indeed, I truly lived 2012 to the best of my ability, so welcome, 2013! And I assure you I will not believe another Mayan prediction.