Aseptic New Year

New Year's Eve, the ball drops and people kiss and embrace, throw confetti, blow their cardboard horns and make a whole lot of noise and one hell of a mess. Then, everywhere, all over the world, cell phones start vibrating. Calls from loved ones, text messages from friends in far off places, people you haven't spoken to in years spontaneously resurface throwing all kinds of warm wishes and sentimental nonsense at you, that lands with a thud of guilt as you realize just how wide that gap between us really is. It falls around you like so much sodden confetti, clotted with sticky spilt Champagne. All those untidy, over-dramatized emotions suddenly gushing forth for no good reason.

Well, I'll tell you something, I'm not doing it this year. My cell phone may have rung, buzzing and twittering like a retarded digital insect, but I wasn't answering. It's not that I don't love you too. I just can't be bothered to experience emotions in such an unnecessarily overwrought fashion. I cannot participate in these sentimental displays.

I've decided to leave the emotions behind in 2008. I crave an antiseptic new year, something WASPY and entirely more efficient. I would hate for you to think that I'm bitter. I'm not. I'm leaving the anger behind as well. It may be cold outside, but my 2008 is no barren wasteland, no arctic tundra. No, my new year is a clean white room. Clinical. Neat. Comfortably air-conditioned.

Should you find your way into my white room, don't be afraid. I'll greet you with a polite smile and ask if there's anything I can do for you. And then I'll send you on your way with a peck on the cheek and a no lingering glances as you leave. And if you think you want to stay, I'm very sorry, but there's no loitering here.

Just remember, I'm perfectly fine, and none of this is about you.