New Year's Eve and the Angry Girl

The new year is quickly approaching. In fact, it's so close I can hear the clicking of its stiletto heels on the pavement. New Year's Eve is very much like a Hollywood starlet with all the glitz and glamour of a red carpet event.  In she strolls and all the attention is on her.  So much is expected from this beauty.  Then, at least for me, reality strikes when she opens her mouth ... all the build up was for naught. She's just another girl wearing a form fitting designer gown on loan from Valentino and borrowed jewels from Harry Winston. Stripped down and without all the hype, we realize it's just the turning of a page on the calendar.  Well, that and we have to get accustomed to writing another date on checks.

I do not fancy New Year's Eve.  There. I said it. Call me envious or jaded.  It's rare if ever that I have plans to celebrate the new year.  In this decade there has been only one occasion that I wasn't at home with my son.  It was 2001. December 31, 2001 was rolling over to January 1, 2002.  Dating a guy in Savannah -- remember him? Savannah Blue Eyes. After claiming our kiss at midnight "the best kiss ever in the history of kisses" he broke up with me three weeks following -- for an ex-stripper he met on a dating website .. a site he'd been perusing the entire time we dated. Nice guy, huh? Did I mention he wasn't man enough to face me? He tried ending it over instant messenger on AOL. HA!! He's what we commonly call an asshat, today.

OK! I'm not still pissy about that incident. It's merely a Riss-tory lesson.

I've not compiled a list of Rissolutions.  I find that making assertions that I'll actually stick with them is hogwash.  Committing to myself has always been a downfall.  I just vow to work on being better than the past.  We'll see how that goes.

I haven't bothered with my horriblescope in quite awhile.  It's not that I lead my life by them, but interesting food-for-thought is often sprouted from those inane babblings of some overpaid intern at the house of Yahoo. Yes, I know most interns aren't paid and that is the joke of it.

Here is today's invocation of insight: Wanderlust has grabbed your fancy and won't let go. Maybe your nose is pressed hard to the grindstone at the moment and you can't whisk yourself away on an impromptu adventure, but you can liven up the day-to-day routine with some creative thinking. One option is to start planning for the trip of a lifetime. Just collecting travel brochures and reading about exotic places will help channel your longing. With the right planning, you can achieve this dream.

"...Liven up the day to day with creative thinking" ... hello!? Have we met? That's daydreaming and I already do a shit-load of it. It's what maintains my relative sanity.  ".. start planning for the trip of a lifetime." I certainly hope that the winning Lotto numbers are coming my way in a yet to be released horriblescope. I can barely afford to drive to work let alone plan and pay for a trip.  *snort*  Silly interns!

"... channel your longing." Sweetheart, if I channel it anymore my head will do an impression of Scanners. It's a good thing I have a regular dose of reality to set me straight.

WOW! I just read what I wrote above. I am a tad angry, aren't I? I believe I have a viable explanation for what's pushing it all up toward the surface. The Wii Sports pack that came with Mancub's Wii has been providing me with hours of working off aggression. Boxing is my favorite.  The pent up anger is oozing from my pores right now. I never realized just how much vitriol I had cooped up in my system until I started beating the snot out of virtual opponents.  I visualize the face of the people who've rattled my cage or hurt me or my loved ones ... then BAM! BLAST! My body aches currently as a result of this Wii therapy. A once dormant volcano needs to let off steam .... ssssssssstttttttttteam heat.