2015 is dead! Rather it will be dead tonight. Right now it is just kind of lying there in a pool of its own blood huffing and puffing. Reaching for the alcohol bottle and the lighter so it can cauterize the wounds. Fire and destruction surround the fallen year. Over the horizon, just beyond the bend of earth there are some lights, blue, green, white, every color of the spectrum. Over the crackle of fire 2015 swears there are cheers of happiness from that general direction. People must be happy. Maybe this year wasn’t so bad afterall. Maybe they are cheering on 2015’s death. “You did this to yourself 2015.” Is grunted between pain strickenly clenched teeth. “You always try so hard and everything turns to shit. You knew it was going to end this way.” With that, 2015 departs from this world, from this timeline. Never to be seen again. In the dark, cold and alone.
This scene is the reason why for the, I don’t know, the last six years, maybe, I have been making the same resolution. It is a good one and it is only because I have succeeded at it that I am writing this post. My resolution was, is, and always will be, don’t die! Unless one partied with Motley Crue or GnR back in the 80’s, that is one resolution that can be failed at only once.
Oh sure, I have put it to the test a few times this year. Like that time my wife and I ran into a black bear in the woods. Most recently how about going straight during the protected left turn phase at a traffic light. There was also about a month period around October 15th when I couldn’t go anywhere without hearing about how Back to the Future 2 got it wrong. I would look to the sky and hope that some opulent being would come back and shoot lighting bolts to my ocular cavities to prove to the rest of existence that opulent beings exist and are back to clean house. Nothing like that happened. For now, I will keep atheisting it up, I guess.
For what is worth, 2015, you weren’t so bad. In fact the first nine months were pretty damned good. Maybe that is because they took place so long ago I can’t remember the bad things. The last three months had some rough patches, but they had some good times too. Either way 2015 is dead! Long live 2016!
Yay! It’s 2015 and has been for about a week now. It could be more or less depending on how quickly I get this post nailed to the wall. Everyone is still wishing everyone a Happy New Year, Happy Holidays, and – the one that is most feared by the politically correct – Merry Christmas. Yes, even on the ninth day of the new year, Christmas well wishing is still floating around. I am an extrovert and I am exhausted or is it boredom? Exborestedom?
Sometimes I just respond with the traditional mimicked response. I am sincere, I don’t want anyone to have a bad year. The conversation doesn’t usually end there though. What did you do? Where did you go? Who did you see? What did you get? To be fair these questions are all well a good the first couple of days back to the grind. Then it turns into some kind of fan made Groundhog Day, but not really. So how long do we keep saying this stuff?
Well according to my math, which includes using a calculator, Photoshop, rounding, and guesstimation, at least another two weeks would be acceptable. As when a year is put into the same scale as a week, we are still somewhere in Monday morning. The math isn’t exact. I didn’t account for February. I didn’t care that I lost half a month. Is it a leap year?
For those of you thinking I am out of touch and cynical, here is a little exercise for you. Imagine yourself on a Monday or whatever day it is that is the beginning of your work week. It is the “worst” day of your first world life. All you want to be doing is whatever it was you were doing the days prior. Instead you are at work. All day long, literally everyone you run into says “Happy Monday!” or “Good Morning!” Even after the sun has gone down, at three in the afternoon because you live in Canada!
Now that we are all good and cynical together, here is an example of a conversation with some snappy things to say. You are on your break and run into that person with the smile on their face because they were smarter than you and took extra days off. “Happy New Year!” they exclaim. “You wishin’ or askin’?” you inquire rhetorically. Next, you immediately add something like “I don’t know, it is too early to say,” or “How about I let you know in 350?” Honestly, you have to start getting a little creative after the umpteenth instance of this conversation. You will go nuts if you don’t. A couple of roughly guesstimated weeks is a long time.
I am tired. I stayed up too late. For some reason I couldn’t pull my attention away from the train wreck that was Stacy “Two-Face” Fergie Ferguson and whatever show it was that she was joltingly hosting. Sloshing quickly between poses. Resembling video game animations from eight years ago. Always turning to the profile to remind the world she wasn’t wearing pants. Perhaps that meat suit just wasn’t fitting the buggy alien correctly. Either way, I hated every god damn second of it until I picked up my phone and got on twitter.
It was the first time I had ever done the whole watch something and tweet at the same time. It diverted my attention and filled me with such joy to read that other cantankerous bastards were also hating Fergie and Jenny “I Love Polio” McCarthy. After awhile I started coming across people’s resolutions. I am going to be more happy. I am going to work less. I am going to work out. Devote more time to my kids. Use social media less. Spend less money. Vaccinate.
You get the point. People were putting themselves on the hook to improve themselves. Which is a noble gesture and at the same time it is a great way to get set up for soul crushing failure. Three hundred and sixty five days is a long time. Especially to hold oneself to self-improvement. Resolutions are rigidly worded leaving them brittle. One misstep and the whole thing could shatter. Which leads to a why even continue, why keep trying mentality. By February, resolutions are defeatedly schlepped off to the side and forgotten. Left to be picked up next year or never attempted again.
Relatively speaking, New Year’s is kind of like Monday. Except seemingly everyone – for some reason – seems to love New Year’s. Yet, if each week is treated as a new beginning, one can set smaller, more achievable goals. Also, if someone is being an over spending, kid neglecting, depressed ass hat in July, shouldn’t something be done then? Why wait five months?
In years passed, I half heartedly made resolutions. I failed them all quickly. Until four or five years ago. I came up with a resolution that I have kept making year after year. Each year I succeed. Each year, I think I get a little better. What is that resolution? Don’t die. It is certainly something I don’t want to fail at. I figure, unless I party with Motley Crue, I can only fail once. Every year, when I scream Happy New Year, I know that I have once again succeeded. All I had to do was look both ways when crossing the street and stuff.