It wasn’t long after midnight on New Year’s Eve, 1974, that Patti Smith turned to Lenny Kaye and repeated the words of her mother:
“So as today, the rest of the year.”
While I cite Just Kids as one of the most influential books of my adult life, I can’t honestly say that such a poetic reason is the only one I have for making the choice to stay in this year as the ball drops in NYC, lover’s kiss, and drunk singles reach past their loneliness to the embrace of another. Someone who has also decided that the last way they want to bring the new year in is by watching others swap spit. I’ve been there. And to clarify, “there” is being out on New Year’s Eve without a solid set of plans or someone to melt with at midnight. I found my way home sober that year just minutes after we all shouted, “…two…ONE. HAPPY NEW YEAR!” and lay in bed asking myself why I’d persisted when three different sets of plans fell through right in a row. “Because it was New Year’s,” I answered into an empty room. I was sad and I felt lonely for no goddamn reason. Well, no reason except the societal pressure to be with someone during the holidays. The silver lining, however, came in with the sun on the morning of January 1st. I woke up without a hangover to find pancakes and good company in the kitchen of a house I shared with close friends. As someone who has a tendency to pencil in too many things, I made a conscious effort to take that day to rest, take care of myself, and be creative. Priorities for the coming year. The melancholy faded and was replaced with a sense of peace and a feeling of gratefulness that my previous night had landed me home, sober, and in bed in time to get a full night’s sleep.
The following year presented different opportunities that I was all too eager to take. As I said, Patti Smith isn’t the only reason I won’t be out at midnight this year. You see, the last one provides competition in quantities too large to contest. I was dating someone I was in love with, I had picked the party theme for the bar, and I was wearing a gold leotard. When we shouted ONE and the balloons were falling to the floor around us, I wasn’t standing around waiting for everyone to finish making out. My cheeks were flushed with champagne and the only New Year’s kiss I clearly remember. For the first time in my life, this holiday was exactly as I’d imagined it should be. Every ideal I’d created and every bar I’d set had been exceeded. Auld Lang Syne turned to dance music and I turned to my love and my best friends to finish out the night in bliss and all our best moves.
My brain resists wrapping itself around the stone cold fact that it’s been a year. Memories can feel like strange warps in time where yesterday and eternity are the same length. But I cannot argue with the calendar. I started wondering months ago what my New Year’s might look like this time around the sun. Again with the societal pressure. However, the closer it got, the less I gave a shit. And as even more days washed away, I made the intentional choice to stay in. I felt too much pressure without any obvious reasons to make an effort to celebrate in any traditional or expected ways. New Year’s Eve is a lot of hype that I can’t meet with any excitement this year and, contrary to previous experiences, this does not carry with it any sadness or loneliness. I’ve made the choice to not be out in a bar I picked by flipping a coin or at a party I went to out of obligation, and I feel even happier about this than I thought I would. I would rather be in when the clock strikes 12 contemplating the significance I still feel when the year changes than out pretending to be glad that I am.
Maggie Nelson writes, “Loneliness is solitude with a problem.” This year, I’m choosing solitude with gladness and it’s no problem at all. On Friday I’ll echo the wisdom of Beverly Smith in the ways I spend my time. I am a sucker for symbolism, after all. But on Thursday night, while I may brave the crowds for a drink or two with friends, I’ll drive back sober and well before midnight to the place I’m dogsitting. I’ll settle in with two sweet creatures on the couch. Maybe I’ll watch Netflix and pay no mind to the time. Maybe I’ll sit in silence and welcome a new year which will ultimately decide how I spend December 31st, 2016. Without question I’ll still be wondering just how much of a dork it would make me to send out Dick (Clark) pics at midnight. I know this. On New Year’s Eve and on every day of this untarnished year, the best choices I will make will be the ones I know are healthiest for me; the ones I feel solid in. And that will begin on 12/31/15 with silencing society’s call to do something I just can’t bring myself to have an interest in this year. But whatever I’m doing, I know where I’ll be, and where I won’t be. And that is at a bar avoiding the gazes of seemingly sad strangers who hope they might ever-so-briefly quell their own loneliness with my lips. Thanks but no thanks. I am steadfast in my solitude and that is where I want to begin this year.
