I planned to sleep through the New Year.

All I’d miss was Jenny McCarthy smooching some young guy who didn’t know better and observe Ryan Seacrest slowly usurp Dick Clark’s position. Oops, that was a few years ago, wasn’t it? He’s fully instated now, smugly narrating two-thousand-so-and-so’s arrival with aplomb and self-satisfaction.

And why shouldn’t he? I’m younger than he is, far too young to be cynical about his taking over Clark’s position, too young to grump about the New Year and too young to be blogging about it rather than blearily taking in the scene blaring on the television in the next room.  Aren’t I?

I mean, really, is it so wrong to be young and naive and happy and silly? Is it wrong to just fucking enjoy the New Year’s dawning and be thankful for another year? Sometimes I feel like everybody lives inside a goddamn greeting card that I just can’t open.  The holidays bum me out, plain and simple.

My younger sister glitzed herself up, hair, makeup, and dress.  We didn’t go anywhere; she just did it for fun and then put doctored selfies on Facebook with captions like, “gettin ready to kiss 2012 goodbye xoxo” and it made me feel awful.  Like, really depressed. Part of me thought, you should get all dressed up.  You should be excited like we’re having a mini party here at the house.  But I didn’t.  My sister’s been texting her friends and asking them about their plans, mainly because our parents are strict and won’t let her go anywhere for New Year’s.  She likes to live vicariously, I think.  I thought to myself, why haven’t I called up any friends, not even to wish them a Happy New Year?  Why don’t I text someone to see what they’re up to?

But I didn’t do any of that. I read a library book for three hours in sweatpants until I got yanked out to the living room for the thirty second countdown.  We watched the ball drop and my parents kissed and my little brother asked for more sparkling cider because he finished his before the countdown even ended and my sister twirled around and pretended she was still glamorous even though she had abandoned the dress for pajamas because no one was around to see her anyways and my parents keep the house pretty cold to save on heating.

She’s planning to Skype some guy she knows later on tonight. She asked to borrow my laptop and I said sure because it’s not like I’m at school anyways.  I’ll probably soldier on through this book since it’s due back to the library in two days and I hate having to return books I haven’t finished. I would renew it, but I’m renewing Les Miserables and I hate renewing more than one. I guess that’s just a quirk of mine.

Writing about how sad I am on New Year’s Day has me feeling like Holden Caulfield, and I don’t mean to sound put-on, so I’ll leave you to enjoy 2013 (although, I suspect if you’re really reading this a few minutes of hours into the new year, you probably don’t have much to get back to. I know that’s a mean thought, but I figure I can’t be the only one feeling a bit bummy tonight/morning.)

At any rate, I thought I’d be glad they didn’t play “Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot” this year because I think it’s cheesy, but I really don’t think they did, and it feels sad because they didn’t even bother.  Now they have musical guests party-rockin their various stages, and everyone’s moving on.  I really don’t think New Years is anything special.

Me, Barbra Streisand, a little bag of raisins, and a whole lot of loneliness

Well, here I am. As the title says, it’s me, Babs, and a little bag of raisins. Technically, right now it’s just me and a sticky plastic bag that held raisins a few minutes ago. I finished them before the previews were even over, so I have nothing. And no one. I feel very lonely, but they say you really must have a solo movie-going experience at least once in your life. I can’t say I’m convinced. There’s a trio of teenyboppers (am I old enough to call them that?) in the back row, and a gaggle of teens have their Ugg-clad feet propped up down in front. The only other patrons are an elderly couple and a skinny-looking kid in a windbreaker jacket. Not the most promising of company. Ah, well. To the movie.

After
I liked it, personally. I like Barba Streisand on principle, and I like Seth Rogen from experience. But I kept feeling like I’m going to end up like Barbra’s character- sad and lonely, eating peanut M&M’s in bed because no one’s there to stop her. How sad, right? Not to fear, I’m pretty sure my one-ness had no effect on me during the movie. I laughed louder than anyone else in the theater at the corniest jokes. I laughed at the subtle stuff too. I guess what bummed me out most was that no one else did, at either.

After-After

So then I went out to the car to decide where to have dinner. First, I went to a little diner. I figured I’d channel my inner hipster-meets-wannabe-writer by plunking down solo at a table with a stack of pancakes and a good book and while away some time. Good plan, right? Nope. I go in to find I am THE ONLY CUSTOMER. There are three employees on duty, and now all of their attention and scrutiny is devoted to me, the lonely weirdo who brings a book into a restaurant. In my purse, of course. So I fake like I’m texting someone, glance casu-fakely out the plate glass, and announce, sorry, my friend has decided to meet somewhere else. They wave and nod like we’re old friends and I shamefully look for somewhere else to be alone.

So, finally,

Here I am, in the parking lot of a Wendy’s, cupping a bowl of chili, my only friend on this cold night. I’m frugal, so naturally my heat’s not on, so I’m grateful that I ordered something that stays hot for a long time. I think the saddest part of all this is the lie I told my sister about how I had decided to meet a friend for dinner after the movie. How sad is that fake story gonna be to tell? The good news is, I’ll only be lonely for a few more hours. After I finish up here, I’ll head home to my lonely bed for some peanut M&M’s, which I absolutely must eat because I’m dramatic, and it will make this whole, lonely, mildly depressing night so worth it.

i’ll never know (i’m sorry)

i remember that snow ball fight that first night when neither of us had anything to lose

you came to my table and i couldn’t stop laughing

i didn’t know you but i knew i wanted to 

i followed you out into the cold and we were perfect for that moment

you put your arms around me and i wondered what it would be like to stay that way

all winter i waited

sitting in the library forcing myself not to wonder about you

you surprised me by reaching out

i surprised myself and reached back

i didn’t understand that you wanted me for me

you didn’t care that i didn’t believe in myself

in fact you couldn’t see my rough edges

just my smile, my wild hair, my shy advances

you tried to know what i wanted even though i didn’t know myself

trying to put together the puzzle pieces i was still shaping

 

i wanted your arms

i wanted your smile

i wanted your love

but i didn’t give mine

guarding my heart, scared to make the leap

 

that night, twin breaths

you thought you had broken through

i thought i had ruined it all

 

and yes, it’s my fault

when i walked away from your arms

that day in the city

all the promises you wanted to keep

it was like a dream but i wouldn’t let myself fall asleep

 

i’m sorry

i’m sorry

i’m sorry

what we had won’t ever be here again

i’m sorry

i’m sorry

i’m sorry

 

I wish these words made up for everything i never said

the clues i never gave

to help you win the game you didn’t know you were playing

to help you kill the dragons you didn’t know you were slaying

 

and now i can’t think of you without feeling guilty

and lonely

and the first moment when you sat at our table and made me smile

and the night we slept on that couch

and the day we had coffee

and the time you found out I was ticklish

and how my friends wondered how we had what we had

and the days i spent wanting more of you

 

i’m sorry

i’m sorry

i’m sorry

 

and i can’t tell you how proud i am of you

and how i have no right to be

and how i cheer for you in my mind

every week

and how you are the smartest strongest most beautiful man i ever knew

and how i can’t think of your arms without wishing i was in them

my head on your chest

 

it’s all gone now

we could have been beautiful

and i know you tried

and i wish you knew

i’m sorry

____________________________

I guess I should’ve given warning, but I hate putting any kind of foreword (AKA disclaimer) on my work. Read it, think about it and then hear my blab on.

But anyways, I listened to Taylor Swift’s new album more than I care to admit, and the girl’s gotten me through the rougher bits of my relatively recent breakup. So, I guess it makes sense that her emotional song-write-y style wormed its way into my mind. Expect more of the same.

As always, comments/likes/nods of approval are ALWAYSALWAYSALWAYS welcome. Still waiting on that first comment…it would be a great thing for a new blogger to get some feedback…nudge, nudge, wink, wink…

 

Love and corny country music,

Unglib