[special service announcement] I want to begin this journal with a video of one of my favorite musicians; Hank Williams III. This song is from his new album, which should be out any time now; as soon as that damn fuck, Mike Curb, gets off his ass and actually releases the album. 
Enjoy! 
[/special service announcement]
Here's to the New Year! May it be a grand one, filled with mirth, merriment, and another good thing that starts with 'M'! (Money? Eh, too materialistic. Motels? That just doesn't make any sense. Movies? A good idea, but doesn't fit the theme. Ah, fuck it, 'Major Successes'. And to think I used to write alliterative poetry.... *sighs*
Now, as we all know, New Years is the holiday, but the actual celebration, the time to look forward to, is New Years EVE. There are going to be those of you here who claim I'm being negative, but I have a confession to make. I hate New Years Eve. _HATE_ it! Hate it to the point that I nearly dread its coming each year.
"Why", I hear your, Mr. Hypothetical Reader, asking themselves. "How could anyone ever hate New Years Eve? Its the biggest party night of the year!" And, how true that is; it is, in fact, the biggest party night of the year. The time when normally sane and rational individuals indulge their carnal desires, throw caution to the wind, and indulge.indulge.INDULGE!
There is, however, one small problem. I never seem to be able to do it. Indulge that is. Its not that I don't WANT to, of course, I'd like nothing less, but somehow or other I always manage to screw it up. Lets take a look at the last several New Years Eves for me, just to give you the general idea:
2006: After 4 months of living in a dry Eskimo village, nearly getting killed, and not having a sip of alchohol in all that time, I went out with a former best-friend/love interest to Madison. We hadn't spoken much in a few years and both of us were looking forward to the night. Sadly, being who we both are, we ended up spending the night, and subsequent day, batching at one another. Some things never change.
2005: Trapped in Dry village hub of Bethel, AK for New Years Eve. Drank a smuggled in shot of rum to ring in the New Years, in my hotel room, alone. Went to sleep due to jet lag and needing to be on an airplane at 8 the next morning.
2004: Went to see "The Increadibles". Alone. Great movie, not so great night.
2003: Went to Tennessee for the Music Bowl with my Dad. Had a great time at the game, but efforts to convince him to go see BR-459(a trad country band that I like) failed miserably due to his hatred of Country Music. Ended up going to a bar for two drinks where he was hit on more than I was (and he's married, I'd like to point out; he politely rebuffed said advances)
2002: Snuck into a local bar with my cousin. Sang "Folsom Prison Blues" for Kareokee. Went home early because tea-tottling cousin didn't feel comfortable in the dar which was 'too loud'.
You get the drift here. Every New Years Eve I approach it, fully believing it will be a great night of hard partying. Yet, each year I manage to go home pissed off at the world and generally convinced that there is written in God's great Book o'Rules the following words:
"And Let it Forever Be Known. Dan shall Never be Allowed to Party Hard; for Should this Come to Pass, the very Heavens Themselves Would BURN".
This year was slightly better, although not perfect. I should begin by saying that, after two years of teaching in Alaska, and a semester of Grad School (a semester which I am still struggling to figure out) I have become akin to a preasure cooker with the lid on too tight. Months of doing nothing but reading and writing in my apartment, with no social distractions, have not been good for my mind.
The need to let loose, to be wild, and to put several artists featured upon "Behind the Music" to shame, has been building up in me for some while. It has become a itch that I simply can not scratch, and which grows only more annoying and insesent every day. It is a constant presens within my mind and, not to give myself up to melodramatics, but I can feel it even sinking its claws down into my very soul.
That is why I was genuinely hopeful when I came home this break and began to talk to my cousin Tom; he just turned 21, knows a lot of people in Green Bay, and had invited me to his apartment to check out the town. I pointed out that New Years Eve would be a great time for such an adventure, and he initially agreed.
Trouble struck several days later. Although he turned 21, and enjoys a drink from time to time, he revealed he wouldn't feel 'comfortable' in a bar. It just wasn't his 'thing'.
"Jesus Christ", I snapped, showing great maturity. Restraining myself from pointing out that he'd feel even more uncomfortable with my boot shoved firmly up his ass, I calmly attempted to rationalize with him. "Do you think I've never felt uncomfrotable doing something new? Of course I have, we all do! The key to living is not to not feel afraid or uncomfortable, but not letting those things stopping you from experiencing new things."
This failed.
I became slightly more irritable.
"Listen, kiddo, you already said you were going. Its too late for me to make new plans now!"
He suggested renting movies and hanging out at his place.
I decided to fall back upon the one tool possessed by all Alpha Males of a group: refusing to budge an inch, coupled with brow beating if need be.
"I told you I'd pick you up at 3. I'll catch you then.
"Yah, but", he tried to interject.
"No. No 'yah buts.' I'm picking you up at three and thats all there is to it. I need this, and its about time you got over this irrational fear anyway. Cya later."
In other words; I became a total jerk. I can rationalize it how ever much I like (and I really DO think he needs to get over this irrational discomfort every time someone drags out a beer), but I was being a total jackass.
To make a long story short, he calls be back an hour later and reveals that he STILL does not want to hang out at the bars. However, he called up a friend of his who knows about a house party she and some others are going to, and we're all invited. He asked if that would be an all right compromise; "Yes", I calmy responded, apologized for being 'snippy' earlier, hung up the phone and danced a jig.
A HOUSE PARTY!
Good lord, I hadn't been to one of those since I had lived in Madison. Perfect! I was going to meet some nice (and maybe not-so-nice) girls, have a few drinks, shmooze a little. The New Years Eve curse had finally been lifted, I was going to have a good time, and maybe finally scratch that fuckin itch; even if I had to bleed my skin to do it.
Heheheheheheheheheheh
Yah right. (Remember that rule in God's great "Book o'Rules"?)
We left for the party at 5 or so; I was driving, my cousin Tom in the back seat, and his brother Matt riding shotgun. After several wrong turns, owing to the badly illuminated signs, and my own lack of familiarity with the country roads outside of Green Bay, but we finally got there an hour later to find......the party consisted of 10 people, including us. There were four girls in that group, two attached, one married and sone single, but not increadibly interesting. Only one person had a drink in there hand the entire night, excluding myself.
GGGAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Ok, ok, I'll admit it: I'm not being fair. It was actually a nice get together and, by the end of the night I felt comfortable enough around the people to come out of my shell; the last hour or so of the part consisted of a round table 'joke telling' session which was a lot of fun. It was good, clean, wholesome, fun. (The jokes, themselves, were hardly clean, or wholesomeo f course; but then, jokes are not meant to be. They WERE, however, very good and also very funny!)
Which, sadly, is the problem. I do not want to be clean, I don't want to be wholesome, and I certainly did not desire to be 'good' that night. Its kind of the point of the Dionysian experiences is that you are supposed to 'let go'. *sighs*
One of my best friends hit the nail right on the head this past summer. I had just gotten back from Alaska and was moving to my next city for school; I told him that I planned on going wild over the summer, to make up for the past two years of having to hold back.
"Good", he said! "You should. You need to; I don't think you've been wild a day in your life."
Although I tried to defend myself by pointing to a record of mild delequency while a student in Ireland, I was forced to admit that the damn bastard was right! its not that I'm boring; its just that I'm very reserved in what I allow myself to do.
Now, there are a lot of people like this out there in the world, I am friends with many of them, but they always seem content; this is the way they want to be, and thats jus the way it is. Good for them! I have other friends, a fewer number, who enjoy being wild and know how to express that part of themselves. I fall down before those folk.
I seem stuck in the middle lately; I want to go crazy, NEED to do it in fact to let off some of this steam, and yet my record shows that I'm utterly incompitent at it.
I reall hate New Years Eve!
Enjoy!
[/special service announcement]
Here's to the New Year! May it be a grand one, filled with mirth, merriment, and another good thing that starts with 'M'! (Money? Eh, too materialistic. Motels? That just doesn't make any sense. Movies? A good idea, but doesn't fit the theme. Ah, fuck it, 'Major Successes'. And to think I used to write alliterative poetry.... *sighs*
Now, as we all know, New Years is the holiday, but the actual celebration, the time to look forward to, is New Years EVE. There are going to be those of you here who claim I'm being negative, but I have a confession to make. I hate New Years Eve. _HATE_ it! Hate it to the point that I nearly dread its coming each year.
"Why", I hear your, Mr. Hypothetical Reader, asking themselves. "How could anyone ever hate New Years Eve? Its the biggest party night of the year!" And, how true that is; it is, in fact, the biggest party night of the year. The time when normally sane and rational individuals indulge their carnal desires, throw caution to the wind, and indulge.indulge.INDULGE!
There is, however, one small problem. I never seem to be able to do it. Indulge that is. Its not that I don't WANT to, of course, I'd like nothing less, but somehow or other I always manage to screw it up. Lets take a look at the last several New Years Eves for me, just to give you the general idea:
2006: After 4 months of living in a dry Eskimo village, nearly getting killed, and not having a sip of alchohol in all that time, I went out with a former best-friend/love interest to Madison. We hadn't spoken much in a few years and both of us were looking forward to the night. Sadly, being who we both are, we ended up spending the night, and subsequent day, batching at one another. Some things never change.
2005: Trapped in Dry village hub of Bethel, AK for New Years Eve. Drank a smuggled in shot of rum to ring in the New Years, in my hotel room, alone. Went to sleep due to jet lag and needing to be on an airplane at 8 the next morning.
2004: Went to see "The Increadibles". Alone. Great movie, not so great night.
2003: Went to Tennessee for the Music Bowl with my Dad. Had a great time at the game, but efforts to convince him to go see BR-459(a trad country band that I like) failed miserably due to his hatred of Country Music. Ended up going to a bar for two drinks where he was hit on more than I was (and he's married, I'd like to point out; he politely rebuffed said advances)
2002: Snuck into a local bar with my cousin. Sang "Folsom Prison Blues" for Kareokee. Went home early because tea-tottling cousin didn't feel comfortable in the dar which was 'too loud'.
You get the drift here. Every New Years Eve I approach it, fully believing it will be a great night of hard partying. Yet, each year I manage to go home pissed off at the world and generally convinced that there is written in God's great Book o'Rules the following words:
"And Let it Forever Be Known. Dan shall Never be Allowed to Party Hard; for Should this Come to Pass, the very Heavens Themselves Would BURN".
This year was slightly better, although not perfect. I should begin by saying that, after two years of teaching in Alaska, and a semester of Grad School (a semester which I am still struggling to figure out) I have become akin to a preasure cooker with the lid on too tight. Months of doing nothing but reading and writing in my apartment, with no social distractions, have not been good for my mind.
The need to let loose, to be wild, and to put several artists featured upon "Behind the Music" to shame, has been building up in me for some while. It has become a itch that I simply can not scratch, and which grows only more annoying and insesent every day. It is a constant presens within my mind and, not to give myself up to melodramatics, but I can feel it even sinking its claws down into my very soul.
That is why I was genuinely hopeful when I came home this break and began to talk to my cousin Tom; he just turned 21, knows a lot of people in Green Bay, and had invited me to his apartment to check out the town. I pointed out that New Years Eve would be a great time for such an adventure, and he initially agreed.
Trouble struck several days later. Although he turned 21, and enjoys a drink from time to time, he revealed he wouldn't feel 'comfortable' in a bar. It just wasn't his 'thing'.
"Jesus Christ", I snapped, showing great maturity. Restraining myself from pointing out that he'd feel even more uncomfortable with my boot shoved firmly up his ass, I calmly attempted to rationalize with him. "Do you think I've never felt uncomfrotable doing something new? Of course I have, we all do! The key to living is not to not feel afraid or uncomfortable, but not letting those things stopping you from experiencing new things."
This failed.
I became slightly more irritable.
"Listen, kiddo, you already said you were going. Its too late for me to make new plans now!"
He suggested renting movies and hanging out at his place.
I decided to fall back upon the one tool possessed by all Alpha Males of a group: refusing to budge an inch, coupled with brow beating if need be.
"I told you I'd pick you up at 3. I'll catch you then.
"Yah, but", he tried to interject.
"No. No 'yah buts.' I'm picking you up at three and thats all there is to it. I need this, and its about time you got over this irrational fear anyway. Cya later."
In other words; I became a total jerk. I can rationalize it how ever much I like (and I really DO think he needs to get over this irrational discomfort every time someone drags out a beer), but I was being a total jackass.
To make a long story short, he calls be back an hour later and reveals that he STILL does not want to hang out at the bars. However, he called up a friend of his who knows about a house party she and some others are going to, and we're all invited. He asked if that would be an all right compromise; "Yes", I calmy responded, apologized for being 'snippy' earlier, hung up the phone and danced a jig.
A HOUSE PARTY!
Good lord, I hadn't been to one of those since I had lived in Madison. Perfect! I was going to meet some nice (and maybe not-so-nice) girls, have a few drinks, shmooze a little. The New Years Eve curse had finally been lifted, I was going to have a good time, and maybe finally scratch that fuckin itch; even if I had to bleed my skin to do it.
Heheheheheheheheheheh
Yah right. (Remember that rule in God's great "Book o'Rules"?)
We left for the party at 5 or so; I was driving, my cousin Tom in the back seat, and his brother Matt riding shotgun. After several wrong turns, owing to the badly illuminated signs, and my own lack of familiarity with the country roads outside of Green Bay, but we finally got there an hour later to find......the party consisted of 10 people, including us. There were four girls in that group, two attached, one married and sone single, but not increadibly interesting. Only one person had a drink in there hand the entire night, excluding myself.
GGGAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Ok, ok, I'll admit it: I'm not being fair. It was actually a nice get together and, by the end of the night I felt comfortable enough around the people to come out of my shell; the last hour or so of the part consisted of a round table 'joke telling' session which was a lot of fun. It was good, clean, wholesome, fun. (The jokes, themselves, were hardly clean, or wholesomeo f course; but then, jokes are not meant to be. They WERE, however, very good and also very funny!)
Which, sadly, is the problem. I do not want to be clean, I don't want to be wholesome, and I certainly did not desire to be 'good' that night. Its kind of the point of the Dionysian experiences is that you are supposed to 'let go'. *sighs*
One of my best friends hit the nail right on the head this past summer. I had just gotten back from Alaska and was moving to my next city for school; I told him that I planned on going wild over the summer, to make up for the past two years of having to hold back.
"Good", he said! "You should. You need to; I don't think you've been wild a day in your life."
Although I tried to defend myself by pointing to a record of mild delequency while a student in Ireland, I was forced to admit that the damn bastard was right! its not that I'm boring; its just that I'm very reserved in what I allow myself to do.
Now, there are a lot of people like this out there in the world, I am friends with many of them, but they always seem content; this is the way they want to be, and thats jus the way it is. Good for them! I have other friends, a fewer number, who enjoy being wild and know how to express that part of themselves. I fall down before those folk.
I seem stuck in the middle lately; I want to go crazy, NEED to do it in fact to let off some of this steam, and yet my record shows that I'm utterly incompitent at it.
I reall hate New Years Eve!
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
25) My parents used to read me Greek myths as bed time stories; because I asked them too! I was 5
hahaha thats awesome you should post some i love reading them!
did you ever hear the norse myth about the origin of mead? it's pretty fascinating and relates to the production of what's called the Mead of Inspiration. something you might look into if you really want to let loose.
i almost killed myself one new years. i guess that's a roundabout way of saying that i totally empathize with having shitty new years sometimes.
the last two have been pretty good for me, though. maybe this year was a warm up for next year. hell, at least there was alcohol and people for this one. next time it'll be the lupercalia you're envisioning.