Isn’t it strange how some people look more foward to the end of the year than to the beginning of a new one? This, of course, makes a lot of sense.
The end of the year means the festive season, it means food, food, a whole lot of food and more food, it means vacations and holidays for some, days off work, basically good vibes.
Personally, the best time of any year for me emerge last two months of it; November and December.
Granted these are the times at which things “suddenly” begin to take on new and “interesting” prices, coupled with a sudden lack of money because sponsors may have decided to save for the hard times that every January promises, these are still my very best months, for the reasons I mentioned above.
So when I see people that anticipate January with claims of “new year, new year me.” And resolution this resolution that. I wonder. January basically translates to brokenness for everyone.
Having gotten carried away with the excitement of a new year, the rare but always thrilling sight of fireworks, people suddenly begin to feel like Akon in that song and start begging girls to chop their money, and we know Ugandan girls, they do not need telling twice where money is concerned.
So there the normal ones of us are on January 2, broke as gutter mice, with the only thing we have to hold onto being our silly New Year’s resolutions that we know won’t make it to February.
Promises to drink less, work harder, and of course save more money weigh us down and leave us traumatised.
We look nostalgically back to last year’s pictures, which were but a week ago. We want the joy of drinking with reckless abandon (because we know we’ve saved all year for this and now is the time to spend that money) back.
We think back to the days when we did not have to go to work, where we could eat as much as we possibly could without getting judged for it because that’s what everyone does during the festive days, and the one thing on our mind is when will the new year end?
I have no shame in saying I have no excitement at all for New Year’s. And I know how ungrateful and silly this sounds; given how many people are unable to make it to the new year and what not, but that is not what I’m saying. The nostalgia New Year’s bring always irritates me.
Every January seems the same, long, hot, and never ending. They go on and on, all everyone does is talk about how THIS time they will stick by their resolutions and see them through, how THIS year they will definitely be different, and I’m all the while wondering if there’s a way we could possibly have one long continuous year without a beginning, just always an end so we can eat like it’s our last and drink ourselves silly.