Vampirekat (vampirekat) wrote,

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Lo and behold

For years I would get deadly sick on Christmas Eve. It was like magic, really. A sucky, cough-y, sneeze-y, ache-y, phlegm infested magic, but still. I would get one of those instant, horrible and all but completely disabling head/chest colds and end up spending Christmas Eve/Christmas Day alone in bed, surrounded by tissue, tea and meds of all denominations.
I used to joke that it was my way of canceling Christmas. Eventually I realized that was exactly it. A family oriented holiday made me feel more orphaned than ever so, instead of collecting (very well intentioned and sweet, but still) pity invites to my friends' family gathering, I would "cancel" Christmas and, by the 26th would re-emerge into a blissfully Christmas-less world, perfectly healthy, happy and looking forward to New Years, my favorite holiday ever.
I quit the Christmas sabotaging a few years back. It was inevitable. As soon as I consciously realized and acknowledged what I was doing, it became kind of pathetic. I don't get sick on Christmas Eve anymore, instead I do my best to gather "orphaned" (even if only geographically and temporarily) friends/my own chosen family and do the whole dinner/cookies/presents/pretty lights Christmas thing. (Yeah, I know, Christmas is supposed to be more than that, but I am a presents/pretty lights/cookies loving atheist who knows how to throw one hell of a party. Oh, and Christmas carols. Yeah, carols. Years of retail employment get to you, eventually. They do. It's like conditioning therapy, only not so much, apparently.)
Anyways. This year, I have no plans for New Years. Okay, that's not totally true. Lets just say, no plans I would be terribly interested in, that is. Also, no money. None. Whatsoever. (I do have plenty of booze at home though, but that's a whole different story.) Additionally, there is all this pressure. (Imaginary pressure created by no other than yours truly, but still.) This is my first New Years Eve in Manhattan and I feel like I am pretty much obligated to do nothing short of spectacular. Yet, there is nothing particularly spectacular in the works for this evening, thus far.
Wanna guess who got an itchy, ache-y throat last night? And who woke up with clearly cold-like symptoms? Yep. That's right. I am happy to report that my self-preservation/self-defense/self-sabotage mechanisms are as finely tuned and working as wonderfully as ever.
I have never spent New years Eve alone. I don't imagine it being particularly bad. It might even be quite relaxing, you know? Nothing grandiose to actually live up to, no unrealistic expectations, no little disappointments. Just me (dressed up to the nines, of course), the dogs (delighted), the cats (bored already), a couple of bottles of bubbly, some good music, candles and the roar and glitter of my beloved Manhattan all around me. I do live three blocks away from Times Square, after all.

Happy New Years, everybody!
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