Don’t get me wrong: I have nothing against New Year’s celebrations. I have nothing against Christmahanzaquannika or any of the other myriad celebrations that crop up in early winter. In my adult life, I have found you don’t have to be personally convinced of a ritual or observance’s correctness to take something away from it. I’m simply in the unfortunate position of never having felt much wonderment at the turning over of the calendar.
Have I reached milestones? Sure, but most of the ones I can think of were academic, and occurred midsummer. The surrounding winters were all either too early for anticipation or too long gone for enthusiasm.
Have I ever hoped for anything? Of course. I’m hoping very badly for something right now, and have been for years. It’s difficult to trust one New Year will bring changes to one’s life when several have come and gone without it.
Pardon the doom and gloom; I don’t mean to piss on your fireworks. I’m only saying that New Year’s has never meant much to me one way or the other. I don’t think, coincidentally, that I’ve ever managed to stay awake until midnight, and I’ve certainly never been anywhere but home. That last part isn’t a complaint. I hate crowds; never bother looking for me in Time Square.
This year, on the other hand, is actually slipping by with some modicum of notice. I am, predictably, in bed. Alone, groggy as hell and in all manner of physical pain from completely reorganizing my room all day, I’m lying here thinking about the few things I’d really like to see come out of 2012. Unfortunately, two out of the three major ones are entirely dependent upon people I don’t even know exist yet. The bit in the Serenity Prayer about “the things I cannot change” has never made sense to me. Why would I worry about something that does lie
within my power to change? I’d just got change it. That doesn’t leave me with much else to indulge myself in worrying about.
I’d keep talking for a while to prove I’m really not in a bad mood, but I really did a number on my back today, and I can’t discuss what hasn’t even considered happening yet. Bear in mind: the Ghosts of Christmases Past an Present had a lot more to say than the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.
Season’s Greetings and a Happy New Year to you all,
Matt
PS, look at that: I made it past Midnight. Small victories, ladies and gentlemen.