New Year's Day is a horrible way to start the year. You stayed up too late stuffing your gullet with greasy snacks and glutinous dip, imbibed a bit more bubbly than was prudent, perhaps even shook a booty that--be honest--needed more than a few minutes of stretching before attempting such rhythmic indignities, and now, here, January 1st, when all the buoyant resolutions have come due, you are exhausted, bloated, stiff, dehydrated.
This is not a day of triumph; it is a day of convalescence. Happy, happy new year, indeed.
But enough about me. Perhaps, instead, you are the sort who retired to bed early, awoke early, ate something incorporating kale, and then embarked on an invigorating run, singing hymns as the sun broke majestically across the horizon. You kept your resolutions, but have much to lament today as well. Specifically this: everyone hates you. I'm sorry, but truthfully, we're all hoping for an opportunity to clip your kale-fortified flank as we head to the drive-through at Dunkin' Donuts.
Either way, there's no winning on New Year's Day. One might think the solution would be to look inward, to seek moments of quiet introspection, to start with "the man in the mirror." But why, when we can construct elaborate schemes such as, say, completely altering the calendar?
What do I have in mind? First, some background.
Historically speaking, calendar alterations have not been uncommon. The Julian calendar was broadly used before adoption of the current Gregorian calendar, but there have been dozens of others. Even today, people have suggested new calendars that would bring uniformity to the number of days per month. We're already accustomed to Leap Years and the wanton vacillations of Daylight Savings Time, why not nudge the calendar a bit?
What I'm suggesting is a new day--a true new year's day. Much like noon and midnight are technically neither AM nor PM but rather simply noon and midnight, this day would be between years, neither past nor future year. Rather than go from 12/31 to 1/1, we would go from 12/31 to 0/0, and then tomorrow to 1/1. The zeroth day of the zeroth month. I quite fancy that--and so it shall be called Zeroth, the day between years. A day to rest and recuperate from yesterday's revelries and initiate the loin girding for tomorrow's conquests.
On the day of Zeroth, time is suspended. It is like a baseball thrown high into the air that is, at its apex--for that brief moment between rising and falling--floating in stillness. You have this stillness, this moment, to reflect. The previous year has passed; it is a dissipated vapor. The next year waits, with all its promise, for you and your resolutions.
And your kale-eating. They say your body craves what it needs, and if your body craves kale then something is terribly, terribly wrong with you. We both know this. Don't worry, we'll figure it out together, this year.