This holiday season I’ve taken to simply wishing people a Happy December. Rather than mucking up my annual holiday congratulations with religion or politics, I’d rather just remind everyone of the universally happy fact: the year is almost over. The holiday season is the straw that breaks our back every year; obscene spending habits, obscene eating habits, and cautiously avoiding politics while fraternizing with family members we only see due to common ancestry, cause it to be so. Common sense concludes that compulsory gift-giving is the bane of anyone’s happiness, and doing so each year just makes us all glad leap years don’t affect December. Thus, “Happy December” offers people a reprieve from being reminded that it is, in fact, the holiday season. With the conclusion of the gifting holidays comes the humanity-wide lame-duck period from December 26th to 30th. Anticipation for New Year’s rises, both for the promise of the future, and an excuse to celebrate hard enough to forget your early-December decisions.
By now, the holidays have come and gone, once again plodding us along into the unforgiving ether of the New Year. Realizing it was 2023 endowed me with a feeling that we were really living in the future, a feeling admittedly more appropriate in 2000, and theoretically in 2020, if we weren’t so distracted by the other thing that happened that year. Whether 2022 will be remembered for better or worse is up to posterity, but I’m sure nostalgics and alarmists will nevertheless debate over how full to fill the glass. Was the year a success or a failure? Does it matter? I’ll let you choose if these questions are important.
Despite all of the end-of-year media optimistically proclaiming that this time humanity will do a complete 180, this year will probably be like every other. Reason be damned, let’s go with naive nostalgia. With each year comes the age-old declaration: “this year is gonna be my year.” I imagine those who utter this phrase each January 1st have both annual amnesia and a list of resolutions that includes going to the gym and making more money than Bezos. I’ll let you choose if these are pitiful. There’s always the easy way out: if resolutions fail, blame it on the year and make the same declaration next January.
Against all odds, New Year’s Eve is actually my favorite holiday: it allows us all to remember the past 12 months in a rosier hue for just one night, while looking forward to tomorrow in a naïvely similar shade. There’s something about worldwide bacchanalia that lifts my spirits. January, though, has always carried a feeling of latency for me. Post-holiday-season, yet pre-spring, this time of year seems like it serves little purpose other than providing a backdrop for seasonal depression and back-to-school blues that children of all ages can enjoy.
January kicks off every coming year, but its first day is an annual omen of its other 30. As April Fools and May Day are to the spring months, International Hangover Day is to January. The glamor and excitement of December 31st only continue into New Year’s Day for only as long as the champagne lasts and the partygoers can stay upright. Shortly after the ball drops and the bottle runs dry, the hangxiety ridden shame spiral of January 1st begins, and what a sight it is to behold. Dread-ridden, extra slow, sunglass wearing drivers can be seen on the roads each January 1st cautiously running errands, but only after midday. These patriots kickstart our economy from Day One with purchases of pedialyte and greasy snacks. January 1st may start off our years, but not by anyone’s choice.
As the winter hits its peak, the warmth and allure of equinox grows increasingly attractive. Although December may offer relaxation, glamorous parties or iconic holiday charm through 11:59, her sister January once again humbles us come midnight, reminding us there’s no place like last year for the holidays.
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The Smoking Section is where I observe the world at large, and put a magnifying glass on a subject we all hold dear to our hearts. As a member of Gen Z, I think it’s important that we take a step back and remember that life is not that serious, and no topic is too good to ridicule. In the Smoking Section, we take a step outside of the party for a breath of less-fresh air. Here if you don’t have anything nice to say, pull up a chair next to me.
@schmidtconrad
