Have you ever seen the movie American Hustle? I’ve just watched it for the second time. And may I say, those women really know how to make an entrance? They walk into a room and people see them. Is it the makeup? The hair? The plunging neckline? It could be that. It could be something more: You can look at either of them and say That’s a woman, because they exude confidence and you know that they know who they are. Even when they were pretending to be someone else, they wore their borrowed skins like they owned them. That’s self-assurance and that’s what I haven’t got. I’m nothing like the women in that movie. I’m the lamp on the nightstand of your sunlit bedroom. Ignored until I’m necessary.
I don’t want to be a lamp, but it’s in my DNA. How can I be someone worth looking at? Everywhere I go, I’m staring at myself like through a one-sided mirror. C’mon, girl. Cry. Confess. Do something.
What does it take? Makeup? A plunging neckline? A borrowed skin?
Maybe that, or maybe something more.
This is the first time I can remember being at home on New Years’ Eve. Usually, I’m in church, ushering in the New Year with psalms and praises. It’s only a series of dominoes falling why I wasn’t in church. I spent New Years’ Eve watching musicals and black-and-white movies. (I must say, though, that Grease was not at all what I expected! It was pretty bad, actually. And not the good bad.) Movie time is time well spent.
You might be wondering about my New Year’s resolutions. I have only one: I will make no resolutions. Every end-of-year, I say I’ll be nicer to Dad, or I’ll be more responsible, or I won’t procrastinate anymore. But when mid-January hits, I’ll get back to my old self– my mean, irresponsible, procrastinating self– not out of spite or to prove that I am what I am, but because I’ve got no follow-through. And though feeling was there behind those promises, a real desire for change, without all of the New Years excitement to remind me, the promises lose their urgency and fall away… I have decided to forgo all of that nonsense.
Outside, fireworks pop and sizzle like bullets from a gun. Bright color bursts in the midnight sky like pow! Like blood springing up from underneath your pale dress shirt. It’s as if the stars go out on account of all the pomp and circumstance and smoke. Just like your light. Just like your light.
All over the world, people are kissing someone or are wishing they were kissing someone. People are smiling so much it hurts. Sipping champagne. Guzzling it. Falling down drunk. People are being born—presidents, presidents’ wives, street sweepers, coppers, robbers. People are dying—good ones, bad ones, ones people will never forget, ones people won’t want to remember. People are sleeping fitfully. Happily. People are crying. People are feeling empty. People are thinking about how empty they feel.
But I guess that’s true at any time.