I’m not a fan of New Year.
I hate the idea of reflecting on the events of the last 12 months, knowing that at exactly midnight it’s time to do it all over again.
Call me a cynic, hell call me a slight manic depressive, either way as each bong of Big Ben chimes, a little part of me cringes at a memory from the past year while the rest of me fears what the next one may bring.
Plus I always start each new year fat and ill (cheers Christmas)…
I’m really not all doom and gloom though – after January 1st I’m actually quite chirpy (depending on who you ask).
But my main gripe with good ol’ NYE is that, like most things, it’s always extremely underwhelming.
For example, wildly average destinations and hotspots suddenly start charging for services which are normally their only selling point.
Everyone rushes around in chaotic panic because they’re unsure of their plans and unless you booked the said destinations/hotspots in October, you ain’t going nowhere.
Girls get dolled up only to freeze to death or spend the night looking like drowned rats because taking a coat is a no-no. It’s also still December – rain/snow is a given.
Once out and about for the night (if you’re lucky/organised enough to get this far), there’s the time to reminisce about things that have happened (usually nothing) and the things that could happen (again, usually nothing).
All everyone can agree on is that they’ll attempt to get fit/lose weight, give up a habit, better themselves in some way, shape or form, and refrain from doing stupid things.
Yet as we know, these extravagant statements will last for roughly 24hrs, before a pie is consumed, a fag is lit, a religion is lost and an inappropriate email/text is sent (yes, all me).
Maybe I’m just a miserable person. Or maybe it’s because I know I’ve wasted another year of my dwindling youth achieving very little.
I’ve fallen in love, and then nine months later, fallen out of love. I’ve moved out of my parents house, before promptly moving back into my parents house.
I’ve started a new job and welcomed the accompanying ‘desk-chair arse’ ailment with it. I bought more clothes and shoes than I will ever need, and I’ve blurred a few lines when it comes to friendships with those of the opposite sex.
I’ve laughed and cried, flirted and floundered, all the while maintaining a ‘friendship’ that is less than admirable in its nature (and responsible for all of those aforementioned actions).
But most of all, I’ve spent a year waiting for an epiphany that is never going to come. As the countdown begins, leading us into 2014, I’ll be anticipating The O.C. moment that is unlikely to materialise.
So I’ll leave you with the actual The O.C. moment, and despite this post somewhat negating it, I do wish you all (and myself, fingers crossed) a very happy New Year.
– love Stef x