I’ve never really liked New Year’s Eve. Part of this is logistical: I don’t drink, and I often feel out of place and a little on-edge at bars and clubs. I feel melancholic in crowds and emotional in dingy bathrooms. I’m terrible at dressing for the weather.
Most of all, though, it’s the ideology of New Year’s that throws me. I hate the pressure to optimize myself, the ads for Pelotons and gym memberships and non-alcoholic beers, the mass cultural validation of the voice in my head that tells me to pick through every one of my flaws with a surgical knife and start prescribing solutions. This time of year, the world seems to say, that voice is not only right, but virtuous too — now start improving! By the way, everyone else is improving too, and they’re doing a great job.
And I want to improve. I’m obsessed with it, sometimes to the point of narcissism. But one of the truest things my father ever said to me is this: If I actually wanted to change myself, I wouldn’t wait until January.
I’m not all cynical, though. I really treasure the opportunity to reflect on the past year and imagine the future — the people I might meet, the things I could see, the emotions I’ll be lucky enough to feel for the first time. I like making lists, and I love being right (this is one of the aforementioned flaws). And while I’m deeply opposed to a corporatized culture of ritualistic self-improvement, I really am excited for metallics to come back in style. Happy New Year. <3
RAYNE FQ 2023 PREDICTIONS.
IN
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