Happy New Year, Okay?

There, I said it. But you can’t make me mean it.

Happy New Year! Welcome to my second ever annual blog post about the…new annum.

That was awful. Let me start over.

Happy New Year from your best friend who blogs semi-annually and whom you love reading even though you mostly forgot she sometimes writes things.

No, it’s still not working for me.

Happy New Year!

Uch, that’s the worst one yet.

Am I the only one who’s been experiencing mild physical pain every time I have to approach someone I haven’t seen since December? Regardless of what I need to say to this person, no matter how sober or transactional or quick the message might be—and even if I saw them just last week—I have to interrupt my actual thought in order to preface it with the obligatory January call and response. And worse, if I don’t abide by the social code and just launch into my point and they respond with “Happy New Year!” I immediately feel like a terrible person who has been passively called out for being willfully tone-deaf. Then I must quickly reply with my own well wishes, to show that I do understand that it is a nicety to which I am contractually bound as a person who continues to exist between December 31^st and January…when? What is the statute of limitations on this? A week? Two weeks? Surely not longer than that.  

It’s odd, because I am largely a non-sour person who enjoys capping off a December interaction with a genuine “happy holidays!” Because the holidays are pretty happy, I think. Or at least, I sincerely wish them to be for everyone. I mean it, so I say it.

The new year is a horse of a different color altogether. Do I want you to be happy this week, this year? Sure, of course, why wouldn’t it? I’m a nice guy. But do I think there’s a specific reason for you to be? Absolutely not. If anything, quite the opposite.

For one thing, where I live, it is very cold. Perhaps not as cold as it was 30 years ago, but still. Unpleasantly cold. The sun is far away, the wind whips up, the air feels raw. What I’m saying is, it’s properly winter. And not only that, but January marks the beginning of the true depths of the season in the Northeast, where we will spend the next three to five months plodding through the doldrums, dreaming of warm weather, fruitlessly attempting to keep our extremities moisturized, and drinking too much.

Which brings me to my next grievance! This is the week and/or month we’re all still pretending to have taken a hiatus from all the glorious substances that bring us comfort and joy. Did I knowingly—nay, criminally—overindulge in cheese and booze and cookies over the past two weeks? Yes, of course I did. I know how to December like a pro. But did I want that to be my swan song before abruptly being thrown into a life of teetotalling and self-improvement? I mean I said I did, yeah. But has anyone ever told you it’s very annoying to quote someone back to themselves? It is. Don’t do it, you won’t have any friends.

Nobody actually wants to quit everything they love and crave cold turkey! And even (or especially) if you’re currently pretending or actively trying to convince yourself to want that, you’re probably not particularly happy about it. Because it isn’t fun. It’s work. Shame-based, tedious, self-denying, categorically dreary, difficult work. Don’t misunderstand me. I like the idea of feeling like my veins are no longer coursing with artichoke dip and coquito as much as the next person. I, too, feel the need to get some fresh air and move my muscles so that they may once again function as more than expansive sleeve-filler. I am certainly not immune to the mystical, earth-shattering powers of a Brand New Calendar Notebook.

And of course, anyone can choose to make minor or significant changes at any given time, when it makes sense for them. They absolutely should! I am a huge proponent of self-improvement and the human ability to evolve and progress. Just, like, not necessarily right this minute. If and when you do make a change in your life, I totally want to hear about it if you feel like talking. And I will be sure to respond with an appropriately descriptive wish for your success. I promise not to wish you a “happy diet” or a “happy job hunt” or a “happy elimination of lactose from your life” or “happy first day of tracking your water intake in your super cool Brand New Calendar Notebook.” Because that would be…well, primarily, it would be idiotic.

Think of it this way: wishing someone a happy new year is the macro equivalent of wishing someone a “happy Monday.” It’s insipid and irritating and meaningless at its most innocuous, and deliberately obnoxious and offensive at worst. When was the last time someone wished you a “happy Monday,” and you didn’t immediately want to kick them in the teeth? It was never, right? It must have been never.

The idea of a new year being an opportunity to start over is almost dangerously foolish, as we all have figured out by now. There’s no magical reset button that gets pushed when the ball drops. Life is life, continuous and unremitting, month over month, year over year. Sometimes things get better, sometimes they get worse. Frankly, the idea of starting over every year seems monstrously overwhelming and upsetting to me. I think I’m probably not alone in principally aspiring to finding a sustainable, enjoyable status quo. That sounds hard enough.

Now, wish me a Manic New Year, and I will wish you one right back with all my heart. The ephemeral, moderately manic episode with which I am blessed at the beginning of each year is truly a thing of wonder and beauty. Just ask my no-longer expired medicine cabinet. Or my linen closet that contains—get this—only linens. Or the very large bag in my basement filled with very beautiful, very revealing dresses from 20 pounds years ago that no longer taunt me from within my closet. Or my extremely amazing, unquestionably permanently life-altering Brand New Calendar Notebook which tracks my water intake and inspires and organizes me and basically remapped my DNA and irreversibly transformed who I am as a person on a molecular level.

That, I’ll take. Happy that to you and yours.