PhotobucketAfter surviving the end of the world last December 21, 2012, humanity faces another New Year, carrying scribbled notes they call New Year’s resolution. The intention: to become better humans this year than they were last year.

I belong to the not-so-rare countless mass of humanity who go through the ritual of intended transformation for the better every New Year’s day. After examining what I accomplished during the year that just passed, I’d usually proceed to motivate myself into becoming a new, better person than last year’s version of me.

So how did I do last year?

Amid the crackle of firecrackers that greeted the New Year, I received WordPress’ review of this blog which helped me get a glimpse of my achievements last year. The crunchy numbers of the statistics it provided me elated my hard-to-elate self.

WordPress tells me I wrote 93 new posts in 2012. While this is hardly a prolific output, it’s not a slack in my writing yield either, considering I was lazy (still am) and easily distracted by many things the past year.

I was happy to note that this blog reached readers in 161 countries but confused why I have more visitors from  the United States than from the Philippines.


In my other passion, I won two championships in tennis last year, the first in July, and the second in December 29. I also represented my tennis club in a multi-club tournament earlier last year, which ended happily for me.

In that tournament, most of my team mates fell one after the other. But my partner and I in doubles clobbered our opponents and gave them a love score.

In tennis a love score means zero. As in nothing. Zilch. Nada.

That score gave me a formidable reputation in tennis courts after the tournament. It was gratifying to know that, while my contemporaries played tennis just to work out a sweat on the court, I still maintained a fiery competitiveness within me.

From the day I chalked up that love score, every time I walked onto the court, I struck fear in my opponents’ hearts. They quaked in their boots at the sight of me at the opposite side of the net—and to think tennis players don’t even wear boots.

In magic, I learned just less than a dozen new routines out of the several dozen tricks and props I bought last year. This doesn’t make sense to me, and the only explanation for the slow artistic growth was that I was committing one of the seven deadly sins warned against in the Bible, namely, sloth.

PhotobucketThis year, though, I resolve to improve in the trick-learning department.

I’ll be more diligent, hard-working and industrious.

I’ll forswear my couch potato tendencies, write more scripts for the show, and learn more cutting-edge magic.

If I could do all those, I’d be famous.

Before I get famous, though, let me stretch out on the couch and enjoy a bag of potatoes. The HBO tv guide is full of interesting movies.

Stay magical,