is the end. Holidays, desserts, my life. Not only books have a limited number of pages. No matter how much the king's crown gleams, it is not possible to turn the page of eternity. And now it is soon the end of 2018. We'll celebrate the new year. The older I get, the harder I get to understand how someone can manage to get through just the feast.
I do not think it is blunt to ”have fun”. I admit that I am skeptical of people who are ”happy” (seemingly without the help of drugs) but I also know that there is more with me than with them. Yet I can't help but wonder what it was that went wrong when we decided to get us a feast in order to make the financials of our own weak nature.
It is not likely to be a better man of me this year either.
Each bubbly happening the same thing, you stand and look up at a night sky, freezing ass out of himself and is afraid that the kids will be raped or get a firecracker in the eye, and the minute you succeed to displace katastroftankarna think of the year that has passed, and notes that, yes, I still weigh too much, I shout for the kids (and the man), I wrote not the book I thought I would write. And then I invoke the gods I don't believe in and promise. In the next year. Then I'll do what I should. At the same time I know that no, it is not likely to be a better man of me this year either.
you want the ”good end”. There is no ”and they lived happily ever after”, not even in the fairytale world. For Hazels guy Alexander dies. Katniss will never be happy. Anna Karenina, Romeo, Julia, and Emma Bovary takes her own life. George kills Lennie, the Chief kills McMurphy, Wilson murders Gatsby, Dexter is not his Emma, Beth is not healthy (she dies) and Kristinas little Anna can't help but to eat the porridge (she dies). And to talk about Kevin will also not make matters better (for all are already dead). Do you think it is a coincidence that Nora leaves dockhemmet just on new year's eve? Hardly. Hate chance, as Lars Martin Johansson, would say (he dies too).
It is a badly-told story, with the worst possible end.
I hate the new year. As much as I love christmas – despite the stress, overconsumption, the quarrels and förkylningarna – I hate new year's. It is simply a badly told story, with the worst, possible the end: this is where Charles Perrault would like, with a moral message that goes out that we put ourselves first and no one is good enough. For what is it we learn about christmas? It is a time when we should think of our near and dear ones, to open our home for those who have it hard. But on new year's eve, a week later, we have grown tired of humanity and lets the little girl with the matchsticks freeze to death on the street while we drink champagne behind closed doors.
raised eyebrows – in fluorescent pyjamas and slippers with reindeer antlers on, but the nade anyone who wants to celebrate the new year, the bare (or with tvådagarsskägg). And no matter how satisfied we are with the rest of the year to live alone/to avoid noisy premises, when the clock strikes a bell ring it is time to clearly manifest that we are part of a couple and take hold of our partners on the back of the neck (as they do in the film) and kiss her (lovingly) on the mouth. When the male part of the population then disappears off to set fire to the pyrotechnic pieces (they believe that fyrverkeriernas krutdimmor can hide the smell of putrefaction?) overloading the women the telephone network by messa to everyone they know who are not in the same party.
For the new year requires that we have friends bidding on lavish parties where all the women look to be dressed for the christmas decorations (not round balls), because it indicates success. And speaking of success. Regardless of what you have completed or accomplished, this is the night when you have to punish yourself.
Let us replace the nyårslöftena with nyårsförlåtelsen.
Have you lost anyone? Do you hate your job? Have you been fired? It is your ex who has the kids over the weekend? You can not have any children of their own? Are you sick? But still taken you through day after night for a whole year reasonably unscathed? You should of course get your portrait on a postage stamp! A private flaggdag. But I still dare to say that you're standing there in the night and thinking that next year, then I'll make the bot, then I'll do better away from me.
As long as we believed that the opposition have magic powers. New year's resolutions, we have devoted ourselves for more than a hundred years. Why? For that on new year's eve we will be framgångsteologer. We only have sleeker, slimmer, more focused, more organized, kinder, so everything else will arrange itself.
There may be enough now. Ring out the old and in with something new, more generous. Let us replace nyårslöftena with nyårsförlåtelsen. A moment when we forgive ourselves (and perhaps someone else) for it was not so good. Consider, for example, if a person who has to deal with his abuse and tried to testify about the errors he made, imagine if he would have read a poem that we all have the right to a new chance. Ring bell ring. Hugsvalelse to the wounded bosom. Reconciliation to the kindred of the earth. What it would be.