The Dichotomies of Being a New Year’s Refugee

Written by travisr on November 22nd, 2010

I’m not a New Year’s Refugee.  …and I [mostly] don’t even feel like one.

Something fabulous will come together, or it won’t.  Regardless… the evening, night, resolutions, and odometer turning will all be observed somehow, somewhere.  …maybe here, maybe somewhere else, maybe in the mountains.

I just keeping hearing of New Year’s great escapes that, to various extents, pull at some or all of my heartstrings… but for one reason or many, won’t work.

For whatever reason, I can remember most of recent history’s NYE extravaganzas quite vividly.

Is that my fear?  That I’ll remember this one… vividly… as being awful?

…or as one with some stone unturned?  …as one without some opportunity realized?  …one where I didn’t make the most of my long break and gap between semesters [and mental acrobatics]?

My roommate was experiencing some NYE-refugee-itis symptoms…… was it just super contagious?

OR, would I rather think about something like NYE, than…..the cold…..the homework….parent conferences…work..responsibility.

Some [party] food for [meditative] thought.

 

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