There’s usually a bit of pressure to do something grand to mark the occasion (which is why I’m travelling this weekend), including finding some sort of romance by the midnight deadline.
In truth, I spend the last couple hours before midnight reflecting on not if 2015 was a good year to me, but rather, if I used the gift of time properly.
Let me scroll through my Instagram to review some of the milestones I’m actually proud of:
April 2015. What an incredible experience to interview two Holocaust survivors—Betty Cohen and Albert Rosa (in October)—this year.
May 2015—got my Bachelor’s and a mountain of student loan debt.
May 2015. LOOK IT’S JOSH GROBAN. GROBAN. GROBAN……AND I USED MY WIT AND CHARM TO CARRY ON A 20-SECOND CONVERSATION WITH THE MAN.
July 2015. Got me a big-girl job in the newspaper (not with the Missourian though), though I feel it was really more of being in the right place at the right time than anything done by my own efforts.
August 2015. I got to climb this pretty cool looking rock with my dad and sis at Arches National Park in Utah.
So while being able to think about things like the above is great, I tend to spend more time thinking about what I didn’t do and should have done. Couple these thoughts with a celebratory glass of wine, and the picture just looks depressing.
I guess I don’t really get the hullabaloo of New Year’s Eve/Day, unless it’s the turn of the millennium. To me, it’s just another day, the continuance of another week, and actually the hype behind it is what gets me down.
It’s not so much the ludicrousness of seeing people become all gung-ho about resolving to lose weight, be more organized, interesting, better-groomed, etc. and ultimately failing that makes me cynical. Now, it’s the near expectation that some of the goals we set—no matter how determined we are—are simply doomed to fail. Sometimes it’s not by our own willpower or lack thereof; it could be others that help contribute to our shortcomings.
Maybe this year will be the year I find solid footing in my profession. Maybe this time I won’t watch the one I thought was for me fall for someone else. Maybe I won’t blow it this time.
But even if I do make my usual slew of mistakes, I hope they’re beautiful ones in the end. I hope they are the kinds that make me chuckle just slightly the next morning, almost immediately after the thought “What just happened?” runs through my head.