I’ve always thought that this phrase was a bit of a funny one.

Years are a human concept. The ‘new year’ could have been decided to be on any day. In another time, maybe new years is on December the 25th. Or 1st. Or on any other day throughout the year. Maybe it’s in mid-February. Or April. Or in one of the later months. It’s the same for the name of the months actually; humans made the decision to number days instead of name them after consonants, or shapes or anything else.

I find it fascinating. I sometimes wonder how things might be different if something so integral to modern society was called something just a bit different.

I also find it to be something that gave me great anxiety and existential dread when I was just a few years younger than I am now – the number of years and how they were passing so quickly. Quicker still, the ‘older’ I get.

I’d rather not revisit those thoughts right now though, high as I am on finally getting a working plan together to try and draw again. But maybe another time.

No, this year I’m going to try and embrace the human ideal of ‘new year, new me’ entirely.

I have plans to travel and see the world and make a better person of myself; plans to draw more, as I used to as a child, and hopefully improve; plans to write and be creative again, even if I don’t manage to share it with eyes that aren’t mine. I want to start learning a language, maybe more than one, so I can converse on a personal level and more intimately with people.

New year, new me has given me stress and disappointment before, all things that I did to myself by not being committed enough; disciplined enough. By being lazy.

I’ll report back next year to see what has stuck and see how far I’ve come.