January First shouldn’t mean shit, anyway.
Perhaps it means something to sequined dresses for finally getting another ‘go around’ on the old gams, or to club promoters for that terrible puff of self-importance, but it doesn’t really mean much to me. That’s becausetime is a construct!!! I am not my liver!! Actually, if my liver could say anything to me right now it probably would be the sort of whyyyyyyyyyyy that an action hero gives to the sky when his wife was just found murdered. It’s so sad at me, and I really don’t blame it.
The point is that 12:00am at the very early seconds of 2012 I was standing on a roof drinking the kind of champagne that immediately gives you a headache because it tastes like bubbly cough syrup. I was wearing a ridiculous asymmetrical dress because I have no idea how one is supposed to look “HOTTT” in any other terms but “14.50 Forever 21 Fancy.” That was nice, but what was really nice was that at 12:01, I was still with the coolest people I know and had a bunch of rum punch I made to look forward to. These are the things that matter the whole year through, people. Most good weekends end with me being in constant awe of the “RAD” friends I like who want to hang out with me, too. That’s always around, no matter the JC Penny sale holiday season.
Basically, no amount of “party” in the world can make me want to do something “NYE” like wear those stupid as FUCK 2012 glasses that make everybody look like they would still fear Y2K if they had the option to. I don’t want to watch the ball drop or the really absurdly sexist “I wanna punch my wife” marathon that is The Honeymooners. It’s just not in my blood! My blood is full of pessimism and puppies and jokes!
This year, though, I still made resolutions I actually want to keep. Real, tangible changes I’d like to follow through with, more than just for the sake of tradition. It’s not that I didn’t want to lose 3.6 pounds in 2010, it’s just that I didn’t want to eat less or not think my body is anything else but ‘a realllllll treat in a flattering skirt.’ It’s not that I didn’t want to ‘make out with a celebrity’ in 2011, but Adam Scott just doesn’t have the time for me right now. However, in 2012, a year and a half after graduation, my life is confusing and wonderful and also has a lot of room for fucking improvement.
When you’re out of college or in your twenties or just ready to move on from something, you start to pay attention to things more. You realize you have the opportunity to become a better person, a different person, a smarter, more alive person. That you can grow and become whatever the hell your personality and circumstances will allow. You realize that your bank account is something you need to keep track of, that you can find your dream job or dream person or both, that you have really hard times without many things to fall back on, and that you might simply need to grow up now.
When I was 19, if anybody broke up with me, I’d cry to my friends and be like “everybody leaves me!! Nobody stays with meeeeee whine whine.” If I got a C on a paper, it was because the professor didn’t explain things and was an asshole and didn’t hold my hands when I was writing my notes down. If I was depressed, it was because nobody understood me since they were assholes. I put responsibility on everybody else but myself. These days, I realize that has got to fucking stop. As a 23 year old, I realize that there are lots of things about myself that need to change, and it’s not only the world’s fault or the shitty dude/bad friend’s fault. It’s mine sometimes, too. My happiness is my own to have and to grow and to take care of.
This is a weird understanding to have because I’m pretty damn critical of myself. However, part of being a young shithead is being overly critical of yourself while not actually taking any personal responsibility. “I’m ugly” can be followed almost immediately by “it’s everybody’s fault but mine because I’m a good lovely angel.” That shit don’t fly anymore. It’s not cute to always hate on yourself. It’s not cute to think you don’t have faults. It’s childish, and it’s not going to get you to the life you deserve. I’d like that life. We all should be entitled a big, messy good life. So now, I present my two resolutions:
2012 will be my year of the “no big deal.” You’ve got one life, remember? If I was a plant in my last life I don’t remember it, so right now it’s me and this and it’s what we’ve got. It’s not worth spent in moments of self-doubt, so one has got to get pretty zen about this shit. You think something’s so awful? It’s probably not. Will you die alone if this guy doesn’t like you? Definitely not. Grow up. Rationalize. Remember what you have and cherish and love-your family or your friends or your favorite fucking pen. And also:
1. Give It Up
There are people I should be distancing myself from, there are insecurities about myself I know are just cattle prods to make myself feel like shit. There are toxic things in my life that aren’t worth the time of day, arguments I shouldn’t start or have, the last drinks at the bar I should cut off, attitudes that are indulgent because they are self-pitying. The judgements I am quick to make, the bad moods I am too eager to partake in, the bullshit sarcasm in serious situations, the moments I dwell on somebody—there are too many things I hold onto that drag me down. Lighten the brain load. Free yourself from the worst parts of yourself. You can give it up. You can let go of the things that dragged you down for so long. You deserve to be rid of them and it’s about time they stopped you from moving on to new, better things.
2. Go For It
Here’s a fuckin’ fun fact about me-I’d like to meet a cool person that I want to hug and kiss and shit. I’m not good at expressing this at all. There are times in my life where I should have made a move but I didn’t, or said something and didn’t. That sucks, because it only makes me want to punch myself in the dumb baby face for being so silly and childish. So now, I’m just going to try to go for it. Make some moves. Woman up. Get rejected or not. Feel things other than ‘being on the Internet,’ real things. If it’s not a romance kissy thing, it’ll be telling my friend when they’re making me feel like shit. It’ll be moments I get up early and work harder and write more and do more and feel more and just get some fire under my feet. Plenty of fire under these tiny feet, much of which I have yet to ignite.
Reminder: you are the only person responsible for your happiness. There are plenty of people who will let you down. Don’t be one of them.
So hey! Here’s to a year of mistakes and kisses and drinks and laughter, you guys. A year of dancing till your feet hurt and good crys and new friends and old friends and a whole mess of good and bad things. Let’s start this shit now. Good luck.
