Two thousand and nine is here. I have to admit that New Year’s Eve is a holiday that I have never understood. Why do people get so excited about one night — ringing out the old, ringing in the new? What’s so wrong with the old? Old is comfortable. It is known. It isn’t scary. New can be frightening. It can be overwhelming and disorienting. Why would we want to celebrate such a chaotic event as the changing of the year?
I guess it’s safe to say that I’m not a risk taker. I have no desire to jump out of a plane, drive 200 mph, or eat medium-rare hamburgers. I like my drama either on TV or between the covers of my book, not in my life.
I am boring. Dependable, stable, comfortable, but boring. I am that “back-up” girl that some people had in high school, that girl you could invite to the dance if you couldn’t get your real crush to go. You knew she wouldn’t embarrass you, that you could talk to her, but there were no sparks, no va–va–va voom. I’m that girl — spark less.
Maybe that’s what makes New Year’s Eve so appealing to most people. It’s an opportunity to redefine oneself. It explains all the resolutions — “here is the line in the sand where I stop being “x” on this side and start being “y” on this side.”
Thus, I banished my boring self as of 12 am EST this past Wednesday night / Thursday morning. I resolved to take more risks (emotionally, physically, fiscally), inviting more excitement and drama into my life. I will try para sailing with Matt in February when we go to Mexico. I will try rock climbing at the Whitewater Center. I will order salad with the dressing on it instead of on the side. I will be someone 2 degrees to the right of who I have been.
The chance to change, I think, is worth celebrating. That I can understand. Happy New Year!