It’s Better to Say Nothing At All

Don’t talk bad about 2018. I mean, you can, you have the ability to, but it’s not a good idea. Think about it. At the end of every year, I see and hear the same thing. It’s an annual tradition to bash the outgoing year, praising the promise and untainted potential, the hope of the incoming orbital period.

This is perfect because it shows baby new year with the scythe ready to “reap” the old year.

Let’s ignore the wild delusion of believing fortunes will suddenly shift toward the positive just because you pinned a new kitty calendar to your cubicle, and instead look at results of previous actions.

At the end of 2017, people said that 2018 couldn’t get worse. At the end of 2016, people said 2017 was going to improve, “it HAS to.” As 2015 wrapped up, people cursed its very numerical sequence and claimed there was “no way 2016 could get worse.”

Break the cycle.

I’m not suggesting anyone abandon optimism. But the absurdity of sliding around on this Mobius loop of despair-hope-despair only calcifies the depression, increases the the required dosage of alcohol to temporarily solve or absolve the existential dread.

Embrace the darkness. Rage against the dying of the night. Curse that you’re not granted another night to rectify the travesties visited upon you, to right the injustices.

I love that new year is depicted as a baby, because like a baby, it’s a ball of potential that through its cuteness will destroy your individuality, test your resolve, stress you out, and make you question your every life choice.

Nah, I’m just kidding. That sounds like too much work. What would be better is to do what I do, and FEAR THE YEAR! Think about it: the years are listening. The more you curse the dying year and dare the next year to get worse, the incoming year hears the challenge. Stop challenging the year. Treat the years like angry Greek gods. Try to appease the outgoing year by effusively offering your praise, while providing the incoming year some sort of sacrifice or offering. It is all that calendar respects.

The years are angry, and they are listening.

Happy New Year. Please, please be a happy new year. Don’t hurt us, 2019. We love you already, we swear.

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5 Comments

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  1. Debra She Who Seeks December 30, 2018 — 11:08 pm

    Shhhhh! Let’s all just tiptoe quietly over the 2018/2019 border and try not to get caught, incarcerated or deported, okay?

    Like

  2. For me 2018 was a year of ups and downs, and guess what I expect 2019 to be a year of ups and downs because that is the norm, so even though I hope it is a wonderful year it will be a year of ups and downs

    Like

  3. This is definitely the right approach. Everything can always get worse, people. We’re just scratching the surface of american fascism.

    Anyhoo, happy new year!

    Like

  4. It can always be worse and I expect it will be.

    Love,
    Janie

    Like

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