Shifting Years

New Year's Day 2010. I woke up this afternoon with my mouth as dry as peanut shells and my eyes as red as a Coca-Cola can. Apparently, someone pounded my head with an iron skillet last night. I must have run a marathon, too. Did I sleep through a savage beating? Is that why my internal organs are staging a mutiny? Why does my hair smell like an overflowing ashtray? And who deep-fried my brain? Did it taste like chicken?

What a lovely, refreshing way to start a new year. Nothing like the mother of all hangovers to set the tone for the next 365 opportunities to exercise my free will in the direction of better choices. Today I have chosen to make up for last night's behavior by acting like a grown-up and spilling my guts here rather than into the toilet--which, by the way, I'm proud to say, I didn't do last night.

New Year's Day is unique because it's the only holiday that carries with it a greeting that at least appears to apply to the entire year. Each January, people tell each other "Happy New Year." I'm not sure when the exact cut-off date is. Like, when does it become a social faux pas to say "Happy New Year?" January 31st? I think that's stretching it. I'd give it a week or so. Two weeks, tops. And is that sentiment really meant to last all year? Or is it more like saying "bless you" when someone sneezes? I remember people wishing me a happy new year in January of last year, but never wondered whether I was actually having a happy new year in, say, early August. And if I had a bad day in late April, I never thought, "Hey, what happened to all those happy new year wishes? What a load of crap that was."

Anyway, I look forward to New Year's Day more than I look forward to any other holiday. Sure, Christmas is special, but there's always too much stuff muffling its meaning. Thanksgiving is better--more stuffing than stuff. You just have to remember to be grateful for more than the free pass to binge and then sleep it off. And I like President's Day, of course, what with all the great sales.

But New Year's Day gives you a clean slate. You have this (actually rather arbitrary) starting line. A gate closes off the past and opens to the future in one tick of the clock. I try not to think about what a new year will bring. For me, thinking leads to worry, and worry paralyzes. I like to hope, though. Contrary to popular lore, I'm not always an Eeyore. Of course, I'll never be a Tigger, either. I carry hope in my soul, where it really hurts. I'm reminded of one of my favorite lines in Nick Hornby's High Fidelity. I can hear John Cusack's voice saying, "I keep the soul I have, right by the exit, just next to the blues."

Today we leap or tumble or stumble off the edge of a calendar square and into a fresh new set of boxes to fill with as yet undetermined (or maybe predetermined) highs and lows and in-betweens. Today we shed and shred last year's aches and fears. We treasure last year's laughs and pleasures. Today we can choose to dread what lies ahead or choose to drive and strive and thrive, or simply hope to survive.

(Looks like over-indulging brings out a bit of the rapper in me.)

Strap in, folks. Do you hear the roller coaster's gears? Get ready to gasp and grasp. Get ready to let go and scream. Fill the smooth moments with anticipation and inspiration. Bear the rough turns with faith and aplomb.

So what's the point I'm trying to make here? I have no clue. Maybe it will all make sense after I dust off and rehydrate what's left of my brain.