I am an honest guy, and I am a devout and shameless blogger, and so I will be the first to admit that I am a socially awkward little wiener.
Am, not
have--I mean, yeah, I do, but we're not going to talk about that today. Today, I
am a socially awkward little wiener, thankyouverymuch.
But I can be more than that, right? I can also be a king, because wieners can be kings. And I
am a king--a king of many things. King of the Ill-Timed Gesture, for starters. King of the Tactless Response,
King of the Witless Flirtation, King of the Missed Opportunities, you name it.
King of the Unspectacular New Year, too.
It's annoying, it is, but I seem to have a talent for ending the old year well and starting the new year poorly--well enough to be pleasant but not well enough to be great, and poorly enough to be unpleasant but not nearly so poorly as to be scarring. It's a fine balance: Ok, not horrible, nowhere near great.
Unspectacular, is what it is.
Oh, it hasn't always been like that. I can't remember anything special about New Year's when I was a child, and nothing of note happened during my early pre-teen and teen years except for some fervent praying on New Year's Eve '99 (of course, the world wasn't
really going to end on 1 January 2000, because God wasn't
that unimaginative or convenient or predictable, and He most certainly did
not run on North American Central Standard Time, but hey, I was a semi-religious 13-year-old coward who was just reluctant to die and/or go to Hell, so it didn't hurt to be prepared, did it? Oh, fuck, just got
another boner, forgive me Jesus!), but I know that I spent those New Year's Eves reading and watching the ball drop on TV and wasting the rest of the night online even though nobody else was on MSN Messenger because they were cool and liked to par-tay. Nothing happened, sure, but it was
nice. Not spectacular, of course, but nowhere near unspectacular. Nothing like, say, the last three years:
New Year's Eve 2004: Fondue with
exrandu's family, old friends. And it was good. But then I went to some party somewhere with people I didn't know and where I didn't drink because I was uncomfortable and had also declared myself the designated driver. Parties aren't my scene, man.
New Year's Eve 2005: No fondue, but
exrandu and I were in Dublin. Ireland. And it was good. But then we wasted fifteen Euros apiece to celebrate the New Year in some club, even though I had learned in a nightclub in Florence, Italy, in June 2004 that nightclubs full of loud music and sexy dancing people were not my scene. Story for another time. But heck, there we were in Dublin--Dublin, man!--and I couldn't just drink a pint and listen to music in some quiet bar because we were in Dublin, man, and what bar wasn't crowded, and I also couldn't enjoy myself in a nightclub full of loud music and sexy dancing people, because it was just like going to some party somewhere with people I didn't know and where I didn't drink because I was uncomfortable and had also declared myself the designated driver, although I couldn't really drive in Dublin. Sure, the internet cafe where I went to hide was nice, but
man was I depressed.
New Year's Eve 2006: Back to
exrandu's house for fondue with his family. And it was good. But, of course, because I never friggin' learn, I went to some party somewhere with people I didn't know and where I didn't drink because I was uncomfortable and had also declared myself the designated driver. Parties aren't my thing, man. But did I remember that? Of course not.
And so, New Year's Eve 2007: I'm staying home. I'm staying inside, I'm going to read a book, watch a movie, watch the ball drop in Times Square because I'm sentimental like that, stay up until midnight, go to bed. Just like old times, sans the fervent praying. Ain't nothin' big happening until 2012 anyway.
But really, I'm a hermit, so I'm going to embrace my hermitude tonight. Start the New Year off right, alone, have a pleasant time and not embarrass or compromise myself at all. Don't know why it took so long to decide this either; I spent the last two weeks wondering "What
am I going to do on New Year's Eve? Oh, I cannot decide." before I thought "Why do I need to do anything? Huh? Huh? Huh? Huh?"
So, party if you will. Get totally sloshed. Have safe sex with dangerous strangers. Me, I'm going to avoid all human interaction, because that's what I do best. No regrets whatsoever, except I'll be missing out on fondue.