Everyone loves fireworks. Almost every culture adores this too bright, too noisy, smoky and smelly spectacle (which incidentally originated from ancient China), and who am I to argue with the majority? It is indeed a very pretty thing to watch, but the visual sense is not our only sense, though one may think that from the (non) reactions of the vast population!
So, every year in almost every city with any or some wealth, there will be a fireworks display at some time or other, mostly New Year’s Day. Here in Sydney, it was reported that many people camped overnight just to be at a good spot to experience the fireworks. Oh, and I guess Kylie Minogue was a draw too? (While I do like Kylie and I respect her spunk and talent, I cannot understand the inane craze for superstars either.) I suppose if I were strong as they are, not in need of a clean toilet, didn’t mind human bodies bumper to butt, much harder of hearing (maybe even half deaf?), smelled less sharply and didn’t choke and have to gasp for breath from smoke inhalation, I might have done so too?
Anyhow, I am one of the ‘lucky’ ones who can view the upper parts of the fireworks from my window, in fact, even while lying in bed. In fact, if I venture out to the rooftop, I’d catch a breathtaking view of the whole thing. But Lucy doesn’t like sudden noises, and neither do I. So we stayed home and put up with it. Fortunately, it didn’t last long. Two sessions, both short, one for the kids at 9pm on the evening of the eve, and the other at 12am ringing in the new year proper.
Perhaps I am jaded. I lived for a few years in Hong Kong. The fireworks there were spectacular too, not any less so than the one in Sydney. And I could see the mini fireworks in Disneyland from my balcony every single night. Apart from the sensory overload, it became boring routine and I wondered about the waste of money…
Lucy lay in bed, hiding under the sheets, but not unduly upset, she seemed quite happy to be there safe with me. I took a few photographs of course, how could I not?
Nothing to ooo or aah about, and it definitely wasn’t fun afterwards when the drunken revelers spilled into Paddington – we endured a sleepless, noisy night. I can never understand this part of the neurotypical penchant for revelry, the side that teeters off the edge into drunkenness, stupid actions that endanger self and others, slamming doors just because it suddenly seems fun (a nieghbour upstairs began from midnight to slam doors repeatedly for the next two hours, goodness knows why!), shouting obscenities at each other, arguing and fighting, and yes, the worst travesty, vomiting – as if it were not travesty enough to dirty the streets and leave putrid messes on the sidewalks, think about all the money spent on booze that just goes straight out! Disgusting neurotypical behaviour. But that is part of life on busy Oxford Street. They are the majority of human lifeforms after all.
Here they are. The photos of the fireworks, I mean. You won’t want to see any of them vomiting drunks, would ya?
Lucy and I survived the horrible night, we slept all day on New Year’s Day, to make up for the sleeplessness, and we are alive and well now.
No resolutions, I never make them, but I have hope. Hope that Lucy will be well and in good health, hope that I find more strength and energy to apply myself to my work, hope for less pain and greater robustness, hope for more creativity, and looking forward to learning, discovering, and being always grateful for the grace and goodness shown to me by so many people, especially my loyal friends.
A Happy and Blessed New Year 2013!