The year that was 2014 has ended and 2015 has limped in like a drunken uncle to attempt to show us the same shitty magic tricks we've been seeing since birth. Sure, it was fun to discover new things when you were young, but there's something to be said for stability and not waking up under a freeway with the name "Ava" tattooed on your thigh under the picture of a green light.
Not that there's anything wrong with discovery. Stop being curious and you die, inside and out. Full stop mortality as your soul gets all crusty and old and you start nodding before the people on Fox News begin talking.
The same can be said for the dreaded New Year's Resolution. What a crock of shit. Ah, yes, at this arbitrary moment in time I shall change myself for the better. No matter that most of the land is a barren waste of cold fury blanketed with so much snow and ice that going outside is equivalent to rolling up to the zoo in a meat suit and jumping in with the tigers.
With that in mind, not the horrific mauling by tigers by a person covered in cold cuts but resolutions in general, here's a conversation I wish I could have with my younger self ten years in the past. To set the scene: a friend and I spent New Year's Eve in Key West, Florida. A good time was had by all and we spent five hours sleeping off a huge drunk in the parking lot of a K-Mart.
Well, my friend did. He snores horribly so I spent the time in the K-Mart where I awkwardly made eye contact with a stripper from the night before while she grabbed some juice and went wherever strippers go when they are not making shit loads of money off drunken tourists. I like to think it's a Stripper Cave with lots of poles and computers and Stripper Shark Repellent, but I digress.
We join our dumbass me in the middle of the 17 hour drive back home, hungover with no sleep. I shimmer in like on Star Trek in the back seat.
Old me: Ahhhhhhh!
Me: CALM DOWN!
Old me: (freaks out and accidentally drives off a bridge into the crystal clear waters of the Caribbean)
Me (before plunging to my horrible and paradoxical death): Don't go home with anyone named "Ava" no matter how how passionately she talks about The Great Gatsby.