The clock is ticking, and the last moments of 2012 are approaching and I’ve got nothing.  Everyone in the writing world is putting pen to paper and fingers to keyboard to say something they hope will be wise or memorable.

I have nothing.

I’m staying in this year because I’ve grown past the need to find THE BEST outfit and THE BEST date for THE BEST party and to have THE BEST time because all of these are indicators of what the coming year will bring.  

Oh, the pressure.

When I was in my 20’s I felt that pressure, the pressure not only to enjoy myself, but to do it in such a way and on such a scale that I could somehow ensure that the next twelve months would be absolutely spectacular.  Luckily, before too long I realized that all of that would only lead me to shallow, artificial relationships, credit card debt and alcoholism.  I’ll admit I was helped along by my choice to be an artistic person, which meant I’d seldom have the money and connections for major New Year’s partying, anyway.  I’d like to think I’d have gotten here anyway, though.

I also outgrew the need to make resolutions to better myself.  I found that I will only do what I’m ready to do and, generally, what I want to do. Consequently, I could tattoo my resolutions in reverse on my forehead so I would see them every time I looked in a mirror and if I wasn’t committed to them, there wasn’t a chance I’d follow through.  If I was dedicated, I didn’t need to write them down or tell anyone about them.

So I sit here writing without a party, without resolutions and without sage words to share with my fellow men – er – people. More important, I’m without uncomfortable clothes, elbows in my back, loud drunks howling in my ears and tomorrow I’ll be without a pounding headache and all of the other symptoms that go with one of my hangovers.  (One day I’ll tell you what they are.  For now, just think about “The Exorcist” and you’ll have a good idea.)

Because I’m not an Auld Lang Scrooge, I’ll wish a big old Happy New Year to everyone who decided to go out and the others who are staying in.  I hope we all have a great time.  That’s the name of the game.  And who knows?  Next year I may be the one running around in a silly hat, elbowing backs and yelling in ears.  Sometimes that’s fun, too.

So I leave you and 2012 with these words, sage or not:  Should old acquaintance be forgot – you probably shouldn’t have had that last glass of champagne.