This was my theme song for many years – probably too many.
So much so, in fact, that at the ripe young age of 44, I had a hard time envisioning a New Year’s Eve saying goodbye to 2014 without a party of some sort. In all of my years since I was a teenager, I’ve ALWAYS had some sort of party-ish plans for the farewell of one year and the welcoming of the next (except of course the year my dear nanny passed on December 29 and I was too sad to celebrate.)
Last night was a BIIIIIIIGGGG stretch for me. The only plans I had were to watch two movies and have dinner at a restaurant that was NOT offering a party environment.
I’d be lying if I said I was excited about it. I wasn’t. I was irritated. Annoyed that my plans seemed so boring. I felt lonely that all of my friends had plans with family or other friends, or were sick or didn’t want to go out. I did.
I didn’t want to embrace a New Year’s Eve that didn’t include food, friends and plenty o’ booze.
The first movie we saw was “Wild”, the title ironically taunting me in opposition to my evening’s plans. I was agitated, bored by the slow pace of the film, and glad when it ended. I wondered how I would be able to sit through a second movie immediately after.
Thank goodness “Foxcatcher” was so riveting, and held my tense, anxious attention for the full time it played. It finished at 9:30, at which time I had made reservations for a 3-course late dinner.
I never made it to the restaurant, feeling a lack of both hunger and motivation after the movies.
I was in bed by 11 pm, a homemade grilled-cheese sandwich standing in as my festive feast. I alternated switching between the three major televised celebrations, observing over a million people reveling in sub-zero temperatures, simultaneously envying their fun and exciting party atmosphere while also feeling thankful that I was not freezing my ass off outside with them.
A few times before midnight, I felt myself nodding off, but managed to watch the ball drop before I switched off the lights and promptly fell asleep, more sober than I’ve been on New Year’s Eve for almost the past three decades.
I woke this morning surprised to realize that I wasn’t full of disappointment over my bash-less beginning of this new year. I am at peace. With both my lack of festivities last night, as well as with myself and my life.
Perhaps, just perhaps, the lack of bedlam as I opened the door to this new year will extend to a lack of fuss and drama throughout the entire year. Maybe my previous methods of ringing in the new year have been an indicative influence on the type of year I was going to have.
I sure hope so.
Cheers to change in 2015.