There's no such thing as a year—this fact is self-evident. Right? No one can force you to cut off the limbs of life and tie them up in boxes with eager strings. We carry only the clocks in our ticking cells. Who made Gregory the master of time? By all rational accounts, my New Year started on the first of November.

While some things invariably have stayed the same—"Auld Lang Syne" is still the greatest song ever bestowed upon us by the muses, be they alien or otherwise—a lot of things will have to change if we're going to shape the utopia we've all loftily agreed to achieve by the end of December.