Opposite Soul

Living an Authentic and Opposite Life

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January first, the dawning of a New Year.

Collectively, sighs of relief were audible worldwide we welcomed in 2021, out with the old, and in with the new.

It’s customary that on the first day, of the first month, of a New Year, bloggers, writers and poets sit in front of their computers and tap out a string of platitudes, superficial encouragement, and positivity meant to move us forward. New Year traditions allow us to start another diet and commence exercise routines that promise tight asses and rock-hard abs. However, what usually happens–and trust me, I’m guilty of this myself–excitement wanes. For some inexplicable reason that eludes rational thought, before the first quarter of the year ends, all that is left is the bitter taste of disappointment and regret that we wash down with feelings of crushing failure.

This year, as I sit in front of my computer trying to think of something worth writing, that scene from the 1990s sitcom, Seinfeld, plays in my mind. One episode, in particular, is streaming in technicolor from the recesses of my brain. If you’re over the age of forty, you may be familiar with the episode to which I will make reference to in a moment, and if you have yet to watch Seinfeld, then I implore you to go and binge-watch the entire nine seasons, and one hundred…