If wishes were fishes, uh, we'd all have more fish. I guess.

Last year around this time, if you haven't been with me that long, I was in kind of an odd spot. See, I was spending New Year's with my cousin's wife's family outside of Osaka. I was going to lose my job and my apartment in about two weeks time, and was having a little bit of trouble getting into the holiday spirit.

By the way, as near as I can tell, the holiday spirit in Japan seems to have two parts. First, obnoxious Xmas songs are played in every public place for six weeks to get everyone ready for the day in which happy young couples plan for a romantic evening together in which they eat Christmas Cake and exchange tokens of affection/consumerist status. And if you have no sweetheart for the big day? Boy, there must be something wrong with you. Christmas is like Valentine's Day, but with worse music.

Oh yeah. New Year's, the second part, is considerably more important. There are a bunch of ceremonies and rituals that are intended to welcome the new year in auspicious fashion. And I guess one of the big deals is the first trip of the year to a shrine.

Generally I like to keep my distance from organized religion. Maybe I haven't done enough research, but I've never heard of any group of agnostics calling for a holy war, crusade, jihad, stoning or witch-burning. In fact, I've certainly spent more time on Sundays watching The Simpsons than I've ever spent in church. But I digress. The point is, last year I figured a trip to the shrine to make a new year's wish certainly couldn't hurt.

Since my primary problem was a financial one, I figured I ought to make a simple wish. But I thought I was talking to one of those gods who only "helps those who help themselves." So I figured I'd make one of those wanky puritan style wishes.

"Lemme get work this year. Please."

Look, I was desperate. Impending homelessness and the end of my steady paycheck had me more than a little desperate. And it really did seem like a good idea at the time.

If it had been a movie, that moment in January 2003 would have been an awful case of ironic foreshadowing. Seriously. Did you every know anyone to truly want to work? But I got my wish... In spades or bushels or metric fuck-loads.
Did I work just a little too much in 2003? C'mon, does the pope shit in the woods?

This year, however, I'm gonna set my sights a little bit higher. This year I want success and satisfaction and respect. For a change.

Or a weekend on the beach with a naughty British girl, a bottle of salad oil and a big old bowl of phad thai.

Sweeeeeet. Happy 2004.