2004

New Year’s eve is my favorite holiday of the year.

Many people in the United States appear surprised by this admission. In America, you have Thanksgiving and you have Christmas (or Chanukah if you’re Jewish). Nobody I met makes a huge deal about New Year’s. I used to tell people that the reason I made such a big deal about it was because I am Turkish. In Turkey, New Year’s is the biggest holiday of December (well maybe because my family was never religious enough to make a big deal of Chanukah.) New Year’s is when we put trees up and decorate them. It’s when we go out and party all night, returning home only after the next morning’s breakfast. It’s when we exchange gifts. It’s our Christmas.

But this year I realized none of those is the reason I cherish this holiday so fondly. I am a fan because New Year’s symbolizes the end of a year and the beginning of another. Even though I am always sad when I finish a good book, I am always inspired by the beginning of another. Each New Year, I feel full of hope and inspiration for the coming year. It’s a feeling very similar to those fleeting moments I wrote about, but the inspiration lasts even longer and I get to put off taking action on it for a few days. It’s like starting a new notebook. I know it’s silly and I know it’s fleeting. But it still fills me with joy.

I, of course, have many plans for this year. I will lose weight. I will write more. I will take more photographs so I can learn more. I will read more. I will work harder and take less of my work home with me. I will enjoy sunny San Diego. I will make new friends. I will start volunteering again. I will learn at least one new thing every week. I will travel at least every other weekend to see the beauties California has to offer. I will relax more. I will let go a tiny bit. I will eat lunch under the sun at least twice a week. I will reply to email faster. I will participate in life more. I will call my friends more regularly. I will get a dog. I might decide to get pregnant. I will stop being so scared. I will stop feeling so inadequate. I will eat better. I will exercise more. I will stop being afraid to drive alone. I will learn to ride a bike. I will sign up for classes I like to take. I will get to know San Diego and give it a fair chance. I will forgive.

The list can go on forever, of course. But I recently realized that it all comes down to one thing: I need to learn to be happy. I need to give up that something’s wrong all the time. I need to stop feeling so small and appreciate the amazing things and people in my life. I don’t mean it in the ‘be thankful you’ve got arms and legs’ way, though that wouldn’t be so bad either. I mean it in the ‘life really is beautiful and I really am lucky’ way. I need to find what makes me want to be sad so much and rip it out of my system. If I can accomplish that this year, 2004 will be the best year of my life.