If only all alternate versions of songs could be as sublime as Innocence (Regenerated Version) by Hitomi… “Toki o kazoete aruku osore o nashite susumu. Ima fukitsukeru kaze wa tsuyoku. Nanika o sagashiateru kono saki no sekai ni ne. Dakedo mitsukarazu tachidomatteru…” [Japanese] “Counting the times as I walk, going forward in terror. The wind blowing on me is strong. I’m looking for something in the world ahead of me. But I can’t find it, so I come to a stop…”

Last night was the first quiet New Year’s celebration in years for me. It had always been a house party somewhere or outdoors as part of an audience at one of London’s fine landmarks, but yesterday I opted to stay indoors and at home as an important quarter of the family unit, to count down and see in 2003. With our chanting and the ringing of crystal to beckon in the new year, it arrived and took centre stage, where 2002 once played out its stories.

Today, I was supposed to go into the city with Kev for a little bit of sale shopping, but the prospects for that were looking grim when I glanced at the time this morning and noticed 3 things: (1) It had gone past 6 am, (2) I had not gone to sleep yet, and (3) I really need to get to sleep ASAP otherwise I would not last the whole of the next day on my feet. Surprisingly I woke up after 10 am feeling rather refreshed, as though all the bad experiences of yesteryear had been filtered from me in my sleep. I almost leapt out of bed to get dressed and see at what stage Kev was in his preparations for going out. He was still in his sleeping wear and didn’t look like he was going to be ready for a day of shopping. I suggested we postpone the shopping till tomorrow and he agreed way before I had to resort to some sort of mind trick. I lingered around in the waking state for a short while before deciding to return to the confines of duvet warmth.

In what seemed like a blink of an eye, I awoke again, in the afternoon. I cast my mind back to last year when Kev was very much my little brother. Of course, he will always be that way to me, but now he was far from being little. The cut-off point was almost new year’s day of last year when he made the transition finally to teenager, albeit being 5 years late. He had grown up mentally and emotionally, aging those 5 years just overnight. He would no longer play those silly guessing games with me, or watch those old kung fu movies with me. I guess when you grow older, you become more conscious of time and realise that time is a luxury that grows thinner with the passing moments of its own youth. Your priorities change and your thoughts and aspirations play a bigger part in reality. At that moment, you realise you are the master of your own fate.

When I am alone or just sitting in a train carriage, the cogs of thinking click and whirl into motion. It’s a good way to pass time, but I certainly wouldn’t recommend doing this prior to attempting to go to sleep (a habit that hasn’t dissolved with the fabric of the past). I always try to distill my thoughts at least once a day, to squelch out everything so that I can see what pops into my mind of its own accord. My unmitigated vivid imagination ensures some surprises sometimes, but that is something I never tire of. It’s always a good feeling, to be able to surprise yourself. Being still, listening to the rhythm of my own heartbeat and breathing helps me to be more focused and aware of myself. Allows me to let go of everything else and aids in interpreting my voice of intuition with more precision.

I got thinking again when I ran my bath this afternoon. As I sat scratching my Pavlovian head, the foam mushroom on it grew thicker and thicker, which told me that I haven’t gotten used to my shorter hair yet and that I shouldn’t use the same amount of shampoo as I used to. I also realised that all my life, in all the houses I’ve lived in, I’ve pretty much always had baths and not showers. I only shower when I am staying around other people’s homes or in hotels, and I think I’ve showered only around 3 times ever in my own abode. I never realised this before, but I also realised that I had never ever read a book in the bath either, which is something I understand is practised by the populace. I find it’s better to remember your own stories and read from your own inner book when you’re relaxed and have the wamth creeping in and soaking into your bones. I have my routine of always cleaning the bath immediately after finishing as well, something I like to think of as returning the favour to the vessel that just cleansed me. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.

Resolutions. I remembered vaguely what I set out to do last year, which was generally to be more open and honest with my feelings and to stand by them. In retrospect, I feel that I did hold up to them well with my many actions and my delving into nostalgic and sentimental stories laced with much melodrama, both on paper and on film. Melodrama was always something missing from my life and it was a nice surprise experiencing it and really embellishing it last year via literature and film. I don’t ever really get too emotional over things, as my senses always seem to prevail above everything else. Pragmatism was a trait that would squeegee the windscreen if it ever got misty or opaque and it has always kept me on the straight an narrow path, so it was something different to sit back and watch/read films/books that set the mood differently to me. Yes, now I’m a sucker for melodrama, but only when the mood is right. It might be my flaw, but it’s my way of seeing into the side of me that doesn’t believe in getting emotional over things incidentally and without valid purpose. It’s the side that chooses to keep a clear mind when the world becomes cloudy. I can’t say for sure if someone who gets emotional is someone who is weak of mind. I can’t say for sure because stress never gets the better of me, nor do hard times. I have always been able to think matter-of-factly that the world continues to turn despite everything that happens and I’ve always been able to turn that frown upside down. I live for the good times because the best is always yet to come, but that is the optimistic streak I have in me. So, although I am aware of the dark vapour overhanging the world or the areas of panic and unjust, I can always incorporate it into the fibre of my own being. I use them as a reminder that despite the existence of all the bad things in the world, I am nowhere near those places, and that a smile costs nothing to me.

With the final sentence of this entry emerging, I realise I haven’t decided what my resolutions for this year are. I need more time to put more thought into resolutions that I would sincerely like to keep alive for the rest of the year and chase up with fortitude i.e. not proclaiming “I will give up drinking!” shortly before downing a pint of something that resembles rubbing alcohol. In short notice, I can say it would be realistic for me to get more exercise, to show greater zeal for the things I enjoy doing and stay in closer contact with my friends. Oh, and to tell my parents and my brother more often the truth about how much love I have for them. The rest I’ll make up as I go along, because I’m sure I’ve missed a lot of things I need to improve on.