2014 is the year of the get-it. Get fit. Get rich. Get girls/guys. Get married. Get whatever last year didn’t give you.
It’s the same trope as the countdown to a new calendar draws closer and closer.
I’m not sure if we’re always focusing on the get-it because of our inability to get it all before, or if we have newer desires and goals. But the motivation is still the same. You’re going to get it this year. This year is not like the other years. This is a fresh new start for you and your improved life, just waiting at some undetermined date at some point in this new landscape.
I suppose it depends on the audience I ask. Some of my homies wanna go global and ball so hard that they’ll name a cryptocurrency after them. Some of them want to resolve their internal magnets, hoping one day that they’ll find an opposite that’ll stick around for awhile this time around. Some of them are resigned to the metronomic nature of the New Year and disown resolutions for the empty promises that they usually become.
As the years begin to pile on, I also notice that the well-adjusted friends only celebrate the passing of the year with a sense of obligation. It’s an excuse to run through a memorably unmemorable night, yet another blackout sojourn to add to the theoretical photo album that lays under five layers of mental steel in your deep subconscious.
I don’t feel any different as I stepped into 2014 one foot at a time. It was a hangover that I’ve dealt with before. A sullungtang I’ve tasted before. Friends I’ve seen and talked shit with before. A drive I’ve endured before.
For once, I don’t look on the next year with the hope of a new and improved future. 2014 is anything I can make it out to be, there’s no pressure to improve or to fight my way out of a shitty situation. There’s no heartbreak, no dissatisfaction, no burning hunger for something, anything but this bullshit.
It’s the same lack of final destination that I felt since I graduated college, which precipitated the next stage of my life. There’s truly nothing but a blank slate from which to scrawl and spit whatever I want on it.
The get-it is no longer there. There’s no longer an “it” to “get.”
All there is in front of me is an endless space to improve, devolve, or stagnate.
Sidenote: I’m currently resolving the first day of 2014 in my Tenderloin apartment, taking down some Berkshire Bourbon and regretting my decision to leave my cigarettes at work.
I suppose all I wanted to do is to wish you, the reader, a good story. An interesting story. One that was just as unpredictable, just as filled with character development, and just as filled with love/hate/lessons-in-between as last year. Stop striving for “it,” stop proclaiming your willingness to hustle and work for “it.” It’s not the “it” that matters anyway, it’s the “how.”
People might read stories for their ending, but nobody will have the patience for your ending if your action is weak. Don’t dilute your process by focusing on a resolution that’s unknown to you and your future readers.
Happy New Year.