Time

Well, it's officially a new year, which means a whole new batch of 365 days in which I can procrastinate in, starting with my blog, apparently. And what better way to usher in 2011 than by celebrating it in front of what is known as one of the most reliable time pieces on the planet: Big Ben in London? There is no better way, I tell you!

Yes, as the completely spoiled person that I am, I was able to spend 2011 in London on the river Thames, just steps in front of the Houses of Parliament while throngs of drunk, puking hipsters and tourists from the world over danced in the streets while taking thousands of pictures of themselves having a fabulous time in fabulous London so they could post those pictures onto Facebook to make sure all their less fabulous friends are constantly reminded of just how jealous they should be. Andrew did one better, though: he posted video, which I've included above for your viewing pleasure. It's said that a picture is worth a thousand words, so a YouTube video must be worth the past two blog posts I missed and then some, right? 

The madness that is the New Year Celebration in London is very much reflective of the United Kingdom's worship of promptness and devotion to the Ticking Clock.  Too many songs have been written about the British obsession of time, and I'm reminded here of the aptly-named Pink Floyd song "Time", where they sing "Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time (...) Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way".  Oh so true, Pink Floyd, oh so true.  

Americans are pretty much the same as the British in this regard.  I secretly think Brits and Americans get so hyped up about the New Year because we are all secretly addicted to watching the clock tick by, seeing our lives flash before our eyes, feeling guilty by every project we know we're putting off (like my blog, for example), but New Year's Eve is the one time we actually sit around and watch the clock tick by WITH FRIENDS, celebrating this national obsession cum illness out in the open with glasses of champagne and kissing, which makes the activity much more stimulating.

The French, by all accounts I've heard, love New Year's because it's an excuse to drink, but the New Year celebrations in Paris are tame by London's standards because the French have a very different philosophy about time, which is called "relaxe un peu, merde!" (ree-lax uhn poo, meh-rd: chill the fuck out!).  I've come up with the French translation myself, so if anyone out there speaks enough French to come-up with something better, let me know!  

No French person I know would ever feel guilty about putting something off or feel rushed by the ticking of a clock, or even feel compelled to notice if a clock is actually working.  Instead, they seem to work more by their own internal French clocks, which conveniently afford them all the time they need.  So why get so excited about the stroke of midnight on one particular night in the year?  The French have spent their history avoiding deadlines, there's no reason to start stressing about the impending New Year now.

But I'm not French, as hard as I try: I'm still just as American as my drunkard Irish Catholic/Scottish/Mexican ancestors allow me to be.  So you'd think I'd realize while listening to the stroke of midnight during one of the craziest New Year's parties on the planet just how quickly time creeps up, yet still I manage to put things off. Now the holidays are over, my busy month has come to an end with the departure of Andrew back to the States, and suddenly it's come to my attention that we're three weeks into 2011 and I'm running three weeks behind. But since the French have a much more laid back attitude toward deadlines than the British and Americans do, I figure I must be, somehow, running right on schedule. So, Happy New Year, everyone! Over two weeks late, yet right on time.