The Magic Five Days Between Xmas and New Years

It seems like this time of year rolls around so fast. And as I tell all the 80s children in the office, it gets faster and faster as the years go on.

One minute, you’re drunk off your ass on New Years Eve, full of joy that that bitch of a year is finally over.

January breezes past in a series of conversations about what a bitch last year was. Not to mention the warm glow of inner determination to do all those things you didn’t do last year. Resolutions ahoy! Writing those unfamiliar new year numerals at the end of dates seems weird, you were just getting used to the last ones. You have to hunt for the keys on the keyboard.

February comes and you’re thinking, wow that was quick, I’m already writing /2/ on dates. And it’s hardly even a leap year which would make it kind of interesting. But the upside is that you get to pack away jumpers that you won’t need till end of the year.

End of March swings in and some smart ass you know remarks that the year is a quarter over. Yes, yes, I can count. Then you think to yourself, fuck, the year is a quarter over. Oh well, there’s plenty more. Every year, wonder what the “Ides of March” are that Shakespeare talks about.

April. Tax. File an extension. Easter. Your friends with kid disappear for a few days. This is also the month that I arrived in LA. Despite how much I do, every time this milestone ticks over, all I can think about is how nothing is where I want it to be. I resolved to meditate more.

May. The strange notion that whatever it was that you were waiting for to happen this year, should have started already. Relook at resolutions. Sort of started some. But there’s loads more of this year to go, so you know, all is good.

June. Mum’s Birthday. Last minute panic to get a card/gift/call to Oz in time. Think about what a bad son I am. That same dick that said the year was a quarter over, now tells you it’s half over. Yeah yeah, I can count. Fuck, it’s half over.

July. 7th month. Never really felt that lucky.

August. My brother’s birthday is on the 7th, mine’s on the 23rd. He’s just over a year ahead. I get to laugh at him for about a week about his age until the reality that my number is literally up sets in. The panic about what to do for “my big day”. The awkwardness of knowing that I will be the centre of attention in a way that is completely out of my control keeps me awake for nights on end. After the 23rd, I try to pretend that it never happened. However, birthdays have been getting a lot better as the years go by. I pride myself that I’ve evolved from fall down drunk and tables pushed together at a restaurant to house and beach parties to mark the day.

September. The three-quarter mark. At least a week is taken up doing the taxes that I filed the extension for that I swore I wouldn’t leave till the last-minute.

October. Dad’s Birthday. Can’t believe that it’s here again. For some reason I have made a birthday video for him a few times. It occurs to me that this is the only movie that I’ve made in Hollywood. Start hearing Xmas carols in stores already.

November and the year is on the inevitable greased rail slide into the end. Already wishing it was over. Listen to everyone I know talk about the Thanksgiving/Xmas divorced parents, who to spend time with field of landmines. Family awkwardness kicks up a gear for the whole of America and doesn’t dissipate till after New Years.

December is awash in Xmas parties, flights, weather dashed travel plans, drinks, dinners, present buying, packing bags, overstuffed luggage, overstuffed belt loops, Xmas family and food war stories and the busying of oneself making New Year plans.

Also a very popular conversation topic is what a bitch that year was and how we all can’t wait for it to be over. New years comes around and we ring it out.

And repeat.

Despite all this, there is a moment of calm that I feel between Xmas and New Years. This time where everything feels like it’s finally slowed down. The turkey has been demolished. Everyone hibernates. You can actually have a think. And the year that raced by suddenly seems longer. Filled with moments of great wonderousness.

Moving in with Paul. Going to Hawaii. Starting a band. Getting a freelance career going. Seattle. That night out with Brian. Laughing on the couch. Vegas baby, Vegas. The Bird and the Bee. Pool Parties in the OC. Sailing with Doug and Rich. Finding “those” jeans. Waking up with the Dogs. First proper paid writing. Mum and Dad and Paul and Me on a Cali road trip. Red Velvet Cake and Pavlova and Margarita slushies in the back yard birthday. Coming to Europe. Paris. Berlin. A warm kiss over a cold canal. Snow falling outside the window.

Suddenly the year that marched by is aglow, a constellation of starry moments. Each one to be remembered and smiled over, all over again.

So though they rush by, and though they have a lot of the same in them, every year feels different and special.

And repeat.


About Some Gay Guy

I'm getting divorced. So... yeah.
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