I don’t think I’ve ever been to a New Year’s Eve party. If I have, it clearly didn’t stick in my memory. I do remember various December thirty-firsts spent watching movies alone, or with my husband, or falling asleep at nine pm because, hey, that’s New Year’s on the east coast.
When I was twelve (that would have been the last day of 1996), I spent New Year’s Eve alone in my bedroom watching Clueless on the itty bitty TV/VCR combo I’d gotten for Christmas (high tech!), eating junk food and occasionally glancing over to my poster of Rider Strong (Shawn from Boy Meets World–I’d torn the poster, in which he held a rose and looked seductively at the camera, out of an issue of Tiger Beat).
Last year, I–what did I do? I think I woke up at midnight to curse my neighbor who was setting off fireworks. Thankfully, I don’t think either of the kids woke up (though the girl was still nursing round the clock so I’m sure she woke up an hour later) but the dog sure did–she hates fireworks.
I have always dreamed of donning a sparkly silver dress, painting on a smoky eye, and going somewhere with twinkle lights and champagne. It would have to be a hotel, I think, because I’ve always been wary of holiday drunk drivers–even moreso since two of my friends were hit by one in the early ’00s and each lost a leg.
I am the kind of person to ruin the party by bringing these things up–which is probably another reason I’ve never been to a New Year’s party. I’m not very cool, I guess. Never have been. Probably never will be.
Anyway, this wasn’t meant to be a PSA about drunk driving. I’m really quite curious: how do you spend New Year’s Eve? Is it all sparkles and sequins, or is it low-key? Maybe you don’t even celebrate–or maybe you stay up all night making lists of resolutions.
The Sensitive, Bookish Type 
My new years eve is low key.. Its a time when our extended family comes together and we eat and sleep under the same roof.. Are you doing anything special this year?
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We’ll be at home, holding my dog to comfort her when the fireworks go off. 🙂
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Nice way to spend it.
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Hey, do you currently have a blog? I see that thepsychogrok.wordpress.com has been deleted and I thought maybe you were blogging elsewhere. If so, I’d love to read it!
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Yes I do. Please check it out: https://thepsychogrok.com/2017/09/16/to-everyone-thats-ever-been-dumped-this-ones-for-you/
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Oh. Another thing. Better be safe than cool!! If being cool is defined as wearing a skimpy sequinned dress and monstrous heels and drinking till you throw up only to wake up on the 1st day of the new year thinking ‘mother of god, I feel so sick’, then I’d rather pass..
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I totally agree.
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As far as I know we aren’t doing anything. We used to spend New Year’s Eve with friends, hanging out and getting drunk, but that was before kids and in retropesct not really that fun. I have the same idealistic New Year fantasy you do of fancy dresses and champagne. Maybe when the kids are a little more grown we can plan a fancy New Years at a hotel. You can even tell your story and I won’t mind lol.
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Mine has changed so much through the years. When I was younger, we would spend New Years at my Godparent’s house playing pool and with the model train set they had in their basement. The adults would drink and us kids usually ended up sleeping in sleeping bags under the pool table and then waking in the morning to watch the rose parade College was the normal parties with drinking and friends. The first year Darrell and I were dating we went into downtown Santa Cruz for New Years and then hit up a dance club after. In Texas we would get together with friends and drink and play video games (dance off, wii sports, etc). Now with kids in Seattle, we haven’t really done anything. The last couple years I have been putting on the netflix countdowns around 8 and getting the kids in bed asap before we just play games or watch movies until we hear the fireworks. Super lame now.
I miss the new years parties with friends. We always had rules when alcohol was involved though. All of my friends have been very anti-drunk-driving, so we do everything we can to mitigate it. Including the sober one occasionally spending two hours driving after the fact to make sure everyone got home safe and they could come get their car the next day or they found floor space.
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New Year’s Eve has always been an evening of excessive drinking. At least for as long as I can remember and certainly since before a time when I was legally allowed to make it so. I tender no excuses. It is a very Australian response to the beginning or to the end of something. A very Australian response, in other words, to everything.
I am, apparently, at my most amusing when under the influence of alcohol. Other substances trigger varying personality enhancements but, when it comes to telling jokes, alcohol is the superior seasoning. Up to a point. Eventually, when the behaviour becomes truly excessive (around 2AM on average), the jokes begin to fall flat. That the audience are themselves, by then, struggling to retain useful consciousness is a blessing that can be relied upon to avoid long term repercussions but a personal mental replay of the night’s humour reveals the jokes to have been cringingly unfunny and shamefully inappropriate.
So New Year’s Day is, for several reasons, a day for remorse. Remorse that inevitably leads to a craving for rebirth. Head bowed in shame, one assesses not only the actions of the previous twelve months but the entirety of a wasted life. One resolves to change. By about January 6 or 7, a self-righteous, tee-totalling vegetarian (and, in earlier days, a reformed smoker) has risen from the grave and by the middle of the month this odious creature has become more painful to those around him than the alcoholic comedian he replaces. He is forced into exile.
He begins to cheat. Coffee. A sweet biscuit. A wagyu steak, Sir? And what harm could one glass of wine do? And have you heard the one about the prostitute and the lawnmower?
The cycle continues. Life marches on again towards December 31.
This year might be different, of course.
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Your comments are always so beautifully written. (And this year might be different… if it needs to be.)
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