So This Is The New Year

Last night could have been my somberest New Year's ever. I drank a 6 pack of Red Stripe while watching The Girl in The Cafe and then went down stairs to John's for a midnight toast. At 11:59 PM I got a text message from a local number that I didn't recognize that merely said Cocksucker!, shortly thereafter I spoke with a very drunk Katie Beele back in Philly and wished her a good New Year and then I drank a whole bottle of champange and eventually passed out in my bed naked.

Rockin' New Years Eve! Minus Dick Clark.

I think part of me wishes I went to Atlanta with Joolie and Eric, another part of me wishes I extended my trip home by a few more days so that I could have rung in the year with friends. There's something about being alone on New Year's that polarizes my situation. It's like this huge microscope looking down on me, nah rather it's like a spotlight. Whatever it is, it sucks. I would have liked to be in a more comfortable setting, around familiar people and what not. But perhaps this is what I needed to help me realize what I don't want in my future. Maybe watching The Girl in The Cafe wasn't a smart idea either? It's about this shy, older fellow who awkwardly attempts to romance a young college student. The movie strays a little too much towards being about politics than I cared for, but the dynamic of the relationship was relatable for me. I guess the bottom line is that I realized last night that I don't want to be alone on New Year's ever again. It flat out stinks. And I'm gonna spend the time in 2006 to assure that it won't happen again. Mark my fucking words people.

Oh, and Happy New Year.