The Party's Right Here

I’m ringing in 2011 without a pulsating ringing in my head for the first time in many years. I’ve been thinking about this decision for quite some time now, and I’ve finally swallowed enough emasculating elixir to not only accept this less-than-titillating proclamation, but to also embrace it; I am not doing a damn thing when the ball drops.

It’s not that I’m not invigorated and intrigued by the notion that it’s a new year. I am. The calendar is a wonderful device, a filing cabinet in the mansions of our memories that organizes life experiences and attaches a number to them. Even for a jaded soul like my own, I understand and support the symbolic connotations ascribed the new year; a fresh start, a chance to set goals, perhaps make resolutions, and even erase some indiscretions or mistakes as “in the past.” There’s a redemptive and rejuvenating spirit that follows the literal turning of the page into the next year.

The only difference this year is that I’m not going to buy into the (generally self-prescribed) notion that I have to be pee-my-pants drunk at the stroke of midnight. I don’t have to find somebody to kiss, or in the absence of that, look for male friends secure enough in their sexuality and equally inept in finding a midnight mate, and then jokingly make out with them. Not that I’ve ever done that (in 2003).

I’m just gonna chill. I went to work today. I went out last night for a couple hours. I talked on the phone to an old friend for an hour. Shaving, putting on a nice shirt, putting on a hellacious buzz, and putting on a swag of false bravado in an effort to kiss someone I may or may not like is not going to change the perception I have of my own identity, at least not in the positive. But trying something new, by doing nothing, well that might just set a powerful precedent for my new year.

At this point you can rightfully say the only point that can be made by the decision to get my “sedentary on til the break a’ dawn” (working on a dance for this jig that’s somewhere between the Dougie and a one man electric slide) is that I’m a lazy loser. While there may indeed be merit to that point that could fill many volumes on many shelves, I’m not entertaining that more pessimistic perspective, because hey, this is my blog.

I’m thinking this might just be an opportunity to realize some self-development and growth many years after my body stopped growing (other than the backfat bone, which seemingly doubles in size every year) and my cognitive capacity stopped expanding (in fact, many years of new years style partying may have irrevocably limited my cranial transmission to max out in fourth gear). I’m hoping that the power of the human spirit to constantly evolve may be the only thing that will be enhanced in these years to come. What better way to start a new year than to actually be thinking clearly, and not just thinking about where the Tylenol is and how little energy I can expend to get the bottle into my hand. (“If I can just pull the coffee table towards me a foot, and knock the bottle over with my toe, and collect it with my feet, I won’t have to sit up!... shit, I need water…”)

This doesn’t mean I’m going teetotaler on that ass. The boys on the Myrtle trip will still get a healthy dose of me shirtless in 54 degree tropical weather this March. I’m sure a softball victory or two this summer will demand shots of tequila. And I know I’ll belt some off-key, misplaced lyrics to a few tunes on the jukebox in 2011. But those experiences will be organic. They will be natural parties. I’m just going to stay away from the most clichéd of the galas.

I’m not trying to be preachy with this stance either. Many people, young and old, will blast into the new year with great cheer, and genuinely enjoy the enchantment of the evening. But for me, for this year, it’s all been done, and I’m doing something new. In this postmodern interpretation, the only thing new is nothing.