I don't mean the holidays, per se. Or even the holidays non per se.
I just think the holidays bring out the worst in some people. Or maybe the holidays just bring out the mild crazies in a whole bunch of people. Whichever it is, I always get this feeling that everyone's losing it.
But the end of the year is still great. And not just because Candy Canes are abundant and perpetually on sale.
For starters, there's the death game. I love hearing the names of people who died even though I thought they had already been dead for a decade.
Like Hume Cronyn.
How many times has that guy died? Didn't he die a bunch of years ago? I saw his picture in one of those end of the year dead people tributes and, quite frankly, I'm not persuaded. I'd like some indication - just a little proof - that he was actually alive at the beginning of the year.
The 'ins' and 'outs' are good too. Although, I was a little upset to hear that Clay Aiken is out. I liked that skinny dude. He might be gay, he might be straight. He might just be a good-mannered southern boy who's really just too nice to do the straight man's cocky-macho.
You can, by the way, get the cocky-macho at Starbucks now. But you may want to think about going light on the shots. That's a strong drink.
I can't imagine Clay Aiken allowing a girl to pay for any part of a date. Then again, he says he's saving himelf for marriage, so I guess the dating's an investment in the marriage, not any potential dessert.
And now he's out, damn it.
The list also said the Hiltons are out. I'm guessing their goodbye will be long and painful. I had the pleasure of hearing the elder Hilton's wisdom leak out on Oprah last week.
The oh-so-wise - and yet oh-so-humble twenty year old Nicky said that "everyone is born with the same opportunities."
Of course I totally agreed with that.
But her wisdom continued to drip out that little Nicky-hole in her face. She added that it's not what you're born with, it's what you do with it.
You know, I've been saying the same thing for years.
Even though I was born into an international hotel franchise, I've chosen to live a lifestyle where my efforts, sweat, headaches and hours all add up to way more than my compensation.
And that's my choice.
Sure I could have been the leap year fill-in lounge hostess for my dad's spa getaway in Bali, but why do that when I can commute two hours a day and spend so many hours pursuing a dream that won't support me in my retirement?
In, out. In, out. Blah blah. They say "bad boy" musicians are back. Ever since Jack White beat some other rocker's face in after he took the last 7-Up.
I haven't cared about bad boys since McEnroe, but now I'm psyched. If I'm not mistaken, I believe musician suicides follow bad boys in the cycle. So next year should be great for depressed and talented Cobain-abees.
Anyway, I like the period of a year for measuring.
A day is nothing. A week is little more than nothing. A month is tricky since any particular month could be affected this way or that by life's circumstance.
But a year. Wow. So much can happen - or not happen - in a year of one's life. Throughout the course of a year there's plenty of time to see patterns in one's life and yet still experience life's blips.
This past year's been a damn long one for me.
And I generally like those. The long ones, I mean.
I'm not usually into wishing away time. Except, of course, when the time I'm having is really stinking bad.
But I've learned that time goes by pretty fast without my assistance. So I generally try to appreciate the time I'm having. And I try to experience what I'm experiencing. Kind of like enjoying your strawberry ice cream cone instead of thinking about the flavor you'll order next time.
But this year was definitely a long one. Even without trying to experience my experiences.
I lived nine lives this year.
Well, maybe it wasn't quite nine...but it was definitely at least three and a half as far as I can count. And a million things happened this past year. With a million more things not happening.
And yet, the year was extraordinarily calm. There were the normal handful of major disruptions, of course. And yet it was still extraordinarily calm.
Or maybe I was just calm in the face of major disruption. I'll have to think about it.
When I look at 2003, it's overwhelming. 2003 seems to have occurred in different segments. There were different seasons, different people, different relationships and different houses. There were different neighborhoods, offices, emotions and hairstyles. There were even different animals, different sports and different modes of transportation.
And in 2003, I finally lost my bangs.
After forty years of trying to grow out my bangs, I finally did it. I'm so talented.
To grow out bangs was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Despite the basic logic that one can have bangs again at any instant merely by brandishing a pair of scissors, growing those damn things out was like a personal daily dare.
"Can you stick with it? Can you do it?
And let me tell you...sticking with the growing out of bangs is no easy task. Each day you look different. But it's not just that you look different. It's that with each passing day you don't look more and more like yourself.
And the truth was, I really did want to look different. I had sported the same bangs since I was a child. To me, bangs were for babies. I was ready for an adult look. Even if In Style said that wispy bangs were the new flirty thing. Even if J Lo, Beyonce and Halle were sighted peeking out from behind their own new sexy forehead fluff.
Been there, done that. I was finished with bangs.
But you know, wanting to look different and actually looking different are two different things. You don't realize the extent to which you rely on the comfort and safety of your "look" until you change your "look."
I spent the better part of 2003 without the security blanket of my bangs.
And it was good. Highly disconcerting, but good.
I made it through others' shock when they saw me without hair covering my eyes for the first time in my life. I remained confident - for the most part - when a few people indicated that they missed the bangs or thought my face "needed" the softness of bangs.
But I liked looking different. Looking different actually made it easier to face a year that was much different from any I'd known in a very long time.
But the weird thing is that the lack of bangs didn't provide anything like comfort or safety or familiarity. If anything, the lack of bangs just encouraged me to go out there and be disconcerted and embrace my fear of everything new and different.
And I think in some oddly strange timing quirk, I finally lost - or decided to give up - my hold on fear. At least I think.
My whole life, fear had guided me. Or, shall I say, inspired me. And fear had definitely motivated me.
In my introspective, sophisticated analysis of who I was, I had justified everything I did and everything I thought in various ways. But ultimately, I believe everything came down to fear. Fear of who I might be. Or might not be. Or, even worse, who I might seem to be.
For some reason, though, 2003 became the year I just had to be.
In 2003, there was no longer any person or any thing to hide behind. In 2003, I was no longer defined by a profession or a career or a relationship or even a home. By some odd coincidence of events, in 2003, everything just came down to me. And in 2003, despite all of the ups and downs and gains and losses, things felt right.
I haven't thought much about 2004. I assume 2004 will bring more in the way of surprises. And, by surprises, I truly do mean things I cannot anticipate since they're not in my vision or logically limited concept of what should or could be.
And that's good.
But don't worry. That doesn't mean I'm going into 2004 without any plan.
I do know that I want to do some more running and swimming than I've been able to do recently. And I'd like to build a stronger foundation in some work-related areas where I'm weak. I'd also like to live closer to work, although I have no idea what that looks like...house, townhouse, apartment...who knows.
And I'd like to get better at the honesty thing. I still have those nagging problems with confrontation where I avoid asking people to stop whistling or clicking their pen. Instead I spend three hours wondering if they realize their whistling or clicking could be disrupting somebody else's peace and quiet or concentration. In 2004 I'd like to be able to ask others to stop whistling and clicking their pens. Without obsessing about their response.
Other than that, I just hope 2004 brings more of the same that this year brought.
When I ring in - or drink in - 2004, nothing in my world will be anything I could have predicted at this time last year. I'm not certain how often that state occurs in a person's life, but it's neat. Neat and bizarre. All at once.
In a year, perhaps what's new now will then be tradition. Or maybe all will be again new. It doesn't matter. As long as I'm moving forward. In a calm manner.