New Year? New Sneer…

"What you mean, many HAPPY returns?? "

“What you mean, many HAPPY returns?? “

Here we go again. Another twelve months down the drain, another twelve months waiting to take their place. Like the old retired cop, jaded from realising you can’t beat The System, 2012 has slunk away into the corner with its gold-plated clock and now defunct police badge stained with cheap whiskey and tears of regret for a thankless job now finally over.

The next morning he is already forgotten; for in his place, fresh from the academy, bounds a young fresh-faced young cop, ready to take on the world and save it from The Bad Guys. His haircut is all business, his uniform pristine, his badge gleaming, his voice just that little too high pitched and excited for the rest of the die-hard desk jockeys. He is 2013, and he is here to kick ass and take names. And God, I hate him already.

I’ve never been a fan of New Year’s hype. I’ve tried. Heaven knows, I’ve tried. I rang in the Millennium up in Belfast with a bunch of amazing people and had mad laughs while the fireworks went off – I even allowed myself a little frisson of dread during the countdown to midnight, and said a quick prayer for forgiveness just in case our world ended in a searing ball of white heat and crunching tectonic plates. I’ve made all the resolutions in the world, and kept none. Apart from writing more. As you can see, it’s done much for me so far. Here I sit, typing away, on an armchair made entirely of foldy money, drinking hot chocolate topped with gold-flake shavings while Frank Sinatra’s hologram croons ‘Seventeen’ and Wes Anderson films my every move for a documentary because my life is so awesome. SWEAR T’GOD.

Being the cynical soul that I am, I watched in amusement last night as my Facebook news feed filled up with New Year greetings fused with all sorts of corny generic ‘go-get-’em tiger!’ type ravings. It was as if my entire friends list turned into Tony Robbins, Dr Phil, Oprah or – in some unfortunate cases – Shane MacGowan. If I had cringed any more, I would have become the first living Inside-Out Human. Imagine the fun I’d have had with that on Instagram.

So why am I spewing venom and hatred at something as light-hearted and whimsical as New Year’s Eve, you ask? The answer is simple: I see it for what it is. It doesn’t fool me for a second. It’s like Ben Stiller’s guest character in the episode of Friends when Ross is the only one who notices he’s a completely psychotic asshole while everyone else loves him because he’s so nice to them.  I AM ROSS GELLER. (In many more ways than this, but that’s a whole other blog post.)

New Year’s Eve has never been nice to me. It’s only ever been a disappointing non-event full of massive expectations, holding a magnifying glass up to all the previous unrealised hopes and dreams you had for the year before. Mind you, back when I was a teenager, I only had myself to blame for that. It’s hard to get the facilities together to resurrect Brandon Lee, keep him in his Crow character AND convince him to live with you in Limerick while living happily ever after, dancing to The Cure in Termights night club of a Saturday. So to be fair, most of the time my disappointment with my New Year’s failures have been my own fault.

However, nowadays my resolutions have become so mundane and depressing that frankly, I’m ashamed. When did it come to this? Once, I dreamed of worldwide fame & fortune; visualising best-selling modern classic literature and marrying the love of my life while at the same time being linked in the press to affairs with assorted Hollywood hunks, all while touring a Grammy-winning indie album and adopting a child from each country I visit.

This year, my wish is simple: To get glasses that stay on my head.

You may well laugh. The consequences for breaking this resolution will be tragic. For as sure as I will never see five foot in height, the following will happen:

Scene: A crowded pub. Me standing next to the potential love of my life. I turn to say the perfect thing to make him fall in love with me. Camera pans out to witness the crowd’s reaction when my glasses fall right into his pint as I trip up when running away, trying to suppress a snart. 

And wouldn’t you know, there’s Wes Anderson filming it.

Happy New Year, folks.

 

 

 

 

 

J-Ro Vs Brain, Pt 12

Brain: “How are you Jen?? Been a while since we talked…”

Me: “The grandest. Apart from the nagging feeling that we are all essentially just lumps of carbon and water in varying shapes and sizes, bestowed with a limited number of days on this giant ball of crap. We struggle daily to engage – and compete with – other carbony watery lumps to leave some sort of lasting print on this pissy little planet before we all evaporate into an abyss of nothingness. We are forgotten in a miniscule amount of time relative to the existence of everything ever, only to be replaced by other lumps pretty much the same as us. And so it shall go on, ad infinitum. Hope, love, happiness…these are all man-made constructs designed by those above who seek control to keep us from destroying ourselves within seconds of becoming self-aware. For fear that we would gain even the smallest fraction of understanding that at the heart of it all, in the grand scheme of things, we, and all that we believe to be connected to us, are nothing.”

Brain: “Left the phone at home again did we?”

Me: “IT’S LIKE I HAVE NO HANDS…”

 

J-Ro Vs Brain, Pt 11

We’re all in this together… *sniff*

Brain: STOP WRITING.

Me: Why? What now?

Brain: Check your Facebook.

Me: I just did, five minutes ago. Leave me alone. I’ve things to do.

Brain: Five minutes? FIVE MINUTES? That’s seven years in facebook time. You could have missed so much! Any longer and you’ll be like Rip Van Winkle, wandering around your page, asking what a meme is, not knowing what Guardian articles are trending…not having a notion what music video to put up on your page to seem cool and down with the kids any more… think of all the ‘likes’ you could have gotten in that time…

Me: You know YOU’RE the reason I’m not published right now, right??

Brain: ALL THE ‘LIKES’…..

J-Ro Vs Brain, pt 10

Brain: “Stop yawning.”

Me: “Stop making me yawn.”

Brain: “Dunno what you’re talking about. I’m busy trying to name the Best Supporting Actor Oscar winners for the last fifteen years.”

Me: “That’s what’s making me yawn! I’ll be asleep in minutes as this rate. I’m off to bed.”

Brain. “I just want you to get a good night’s sleep. It’s good for both of us.”

Me:. “Good. I’ve a really long busy week ahead, I need all my rest. Well, goodnight so.”

Brain: “Okay, nighty night. Sleep well.”

Me: “Really? That’s it? No fight?”

Brain: “Nope. Like you said, you need your sleep. I’m good like that sometimes.”

Me: “Great! Well, talk to you in the morning so..”

Brain: “Will do.”

Me: “……………….”

Brain: Just try not to think about that bathroom scene from The Grudge.

Me: I KNEW IT WAS TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE.

You’re welcome. Each and every one of you.

J-Ro Vs Brain, pt 7

Brain: “Alarm’s gone off.”

Me: “Shurrup.”

Brain: “Seriously. It went off like two minutes ago. You need to get up.”

Me: “I know you speak English, because you’re essentially me. So I’ll say it again. Shurrup. I’ve hit the snooze button.”

Brain: “Get up. You’re going to be late. GET UP NOW.”

Me: “If it wasn’t going to be really sore for me I’d totally throw a shoe at you right now.”

Brain: “UP UP UP UP UP UP UP….”

Me: “I’m going to suffocate myself with the pillow. Nice knowing you.”

Brain: “I’m going to start listing off all the things in your life you should be worried about right at this very moment. Three…two…”

Me: “You wouldn’t d-”

Brain: “One. I’VE NOTHING TO WEAR TODAY IT’S REALLY COLD WHY CAN’T I FIND MY OTHER SHOE I CAN’T SEE WITHOUT MY GLASSES OH WAIT THERE THEY ARE IS THERE ANYTHING ON FACEBOOK GOD I’M THIRSTY OH WAIT I’VE ANOTHER IDEA FOR A BOOK OH WAIT IT’S GONE AGAIN I HOPE THE CREDIT CARD COMPANY DON’T CALL TODAY BUT YOU NEVER KNOW I THINK I NEED A HAIRCUT OH JESUS I’M SO FAT HANG ON I NEED TO PUT PETROL IN MY CA-”

Me: “Well played.”

Brain: “Cup of tea?”

Me: “Please.”