Against my better judgment, I went to one of those big outdoor New Year's celebrations. In the middle of downtown Raleigh, a crane dropped a massive (8.25 ft. in diameter) acorn, and then raised a pinkish-purple "millennium oak," accompanied by the dulcet sounds of Aretha Franklin's old smash, "Freeway of Love."

Every single word of that last sentence is true.

Apart from the acorn and the Barney-colored tree and anything by Aretha in the 80s, it wasn't a bad night. The Connells were the feature band, and while the guys looked really old (probably because they are), they could still pump up a relatively dazed crowd.

The best pre-millennium moment came when Mayflies USA, one of the warmup bands, introduced a song as follows: "This is from a Pere Ubu album. I'm sure all of you have it.."

A little attitude was definitely needed. Even more so now, a couple days after the event.

I'm not one of those folks who thinks that every big celebration must be marked by massive consumption of alcohol and controlled substances, followed by someone you love (or maybe even you) making an utter fool of him or herself. It's just that I need something memorable to spark my memory, as it were, and some 40-somethings playing pop music while a purple tree dances just doesn't cut it.

Oh, did I mention that this "celebration" was alcohol free? Yeah, well, a bar down the street was open to all comers, with no ridiculous $25 New Year's Eve cover charge. The beer wasn't great, but it worked. At least until I decided on a late-night menu of polish sausage, funnel cake and chicken on a stick (the last is apparently some long-lost Chinese delicacy, or so the purveyors claimed). Once that combo got into my stomach, the buzz was gone for good. Though the general cast-iron character of my stomach also ensured that there was no upset, either.

And all that's fine, because I know that Friday night wasn't the turn of the millennium, anyway. Next year is. But even if we did just enter a new millennium, well, I wouldn't be terribly excited. Nothing changed. My life has not taken an unexpected and surprising turn. In fact, I went to work just like usual. The computers work. The lights work. The Coke machine works. I couldn't even get in a little gratuitous looting, because no one was nice enough to start a riot.

So here I am, sitting around and wondering just what the hell everyone was so excited about, anyway. My own lack of excitement was borne out by the lack of anything interesting actually happening.

Maybe that's my problem. If I had let myself get wrapped up in the festivities, then perhaps I might not be so sullen now. But I think the opposite would be true. I could have been sky high Friday night, but by now that would have worn off, and I'd be left with a big empty feeling, wondering exactly the same things I'm wondering now.

Still, my cynical detachment from the festivities hasn't prevented this post-millennial funk I seem to have going. I should have gotten excited. A little mania for my depression. At least I would have felt the good times before crashing into this sea of ennui.

I just can't say why I feel like this. I guess I'm just waiting for something to happen. Whatever that may be, whenever it may come, I don't know. Maybe furniture.com's second attempt to deliver a bed to my house will turn things around. Maybe North Carolina will pass a law allowing beers of greater than 6 percent alcohol by volume to be sold. Maybe I'll pick out a booger that deserves to be shown in the Louvre.

None of those things is on the immediate horizon, though, so I think I'll honor a time-old tradition and have a beer.

Maybe that's all I needed in the first place.

After watching the millennium oak dance for a while, Jon Worley stopped by the Krispy Kreme on his way home, scoring the first doughnuts of the new millennium.