It Just Isn't My Year

Call me superstitious but I check my Chinese Zodiac prediction every Chinese New Year. And I dread the time every 12 years when we welcome the Year of the Pig (or the Boar, as some of my friends born in this year would prefer to say). Why? Because I was born in the Year of the Pig.

The Year of the Pig may be auspicious for some - the Pig's plumpness symbolizing fortune, wealth and abundance - but not for those born in the said year. I read this somewhere. And it works for Dogs in the Year of the Dog, for Dragons in the year of the Dragon, and so on.

We're only a few months away from the Year of the Rat and I, being genetically predisposed to impatience and obsessive-compulsive behavior, can't help but start a mental countdown to February. (Well, that's also my birth month so I'm naturally excited.)

Recent events in my life, both within and beyond my control, as well as a conversation I had with other Pigs today have bolstered my belief that you're unlucky in your Chinese Zodiac Year (or whatever it's called). I'd rather not get into details - first, because my mental stability might be affected by memories I'd rather push back in my head and second, because I'm running low on Ventolin and the car's not here to bring me to the nearest hospital in case I have another stress-induced asthma attack. Suffice it to say that these events are not easily forgotten and it may take me a while to live through their consequences. And I'm even doing better than my other Pig friends.

I am however proud to be a Pig (or a Boar). (Is it worth mentioning that PGMA is also a Pig/Boar?) Pigs are chivalrous, gallant, honest, straightforward, modest, trustworthy and with big hearts (probably from too much cholesterol). Pigs don't push ahead if it means standing on other people's toes. Pigs are the best friends you can ever have! If you don't believe me, you can always Google the Pig's traits.