Coffee at Midnight
As a rational, skeptical, atheistical type of person, I bet you think that I am entirely without a superstitious bone in my body. And if you thought that that sentence would inevitably precede a confession about some little superstition I hold, you would be very right. Like most people, there are little irrational things that make me feel uncomfortable. I know they’re irrational and some of them I suppress. Others, however, I have indulged. One of my little superstitions that I’ve always been happy to indulge is that New Year’s Eve would set a pattern for the coming year. If I had a good time on New Year’s Eve, I’d have a good year.
This means that since I was in high school, I have always tried to find a party or some other event with music, drinking and dancing. Unlike the claims of most people, I’ve actually had a good time most years and generally look forward to the night. If, as the end of December approaches, I haven’t been invited to a party, I find a more public event at a bar or a similar place. I could have done that tonight. I nearly did. However, the past few years, despite having had a good time on New Year’s Eve, have been years during which I’ve suffered from depression. Perhaps that fact has lessened my little superstition.
In any case, I’m sitting having coffee and it’s eleven fifty-nine.
Happy New Year! I can hear the fireworks and the cheering now.
I think I’ll go make myself some Hoppin’ John and some collards.
Pepole are like sheep they follow every one else
I was in bed around 11. I have usually been awake till the new year, this time round I was tired and needed the sleep