Let’s face it — the calendar has become a bloated, sanctimonious, rainbow-stickered monster. Somewhere between International Pancake Day, World Tapir Day and Global Scarf Awareness Week, we lost the plot. Our timelines are a carousel of hashtags, performative empathy, and 24-hour commitments to causes we barely have time to understand, let alone act on.
And so, with all due reverence, I propose this:
It’s time we celebrated the celebration itself.
It’s time for the International Day of International Days.
The Hashtag Hangover Generation
We are the generation that woke up one morning, bleary-eyed from World Sleep Day, only to realise that every single day is now something. Literally. Every. Single. Day.
You might think I’m exaggerating, but the UN itself currently recognises more than 200 official international days, and that’s before we even get to the national ones, the regional ones, and the rogue observances started by overcaffeinated startups looking to raise awareness for biodegradable socks.
On a random Tuesday last month, I found myself liking posts for International Day of Forests, International Day for the Elimination of Racial Discrimination, and (I kid you not) National Goof Off Day. How do I goof off while dismantling systemic inequality and planting symbolic trees on Instagram?
Enter the International Day of International Days (IDID) — a much-needed meta-holiday to honour the sheer volume of things we are now expected to care about.
Who’s Actually in Charge of All This?
You’d be forgiven for assuming some UN committee — perhaps the Bureau of Calendar Sanity — oversees this chaos. But while the satirical Committee for Calendar Bloat isn’t real (yet), there is an official process for creating International Days:
A UN Member State proposes a new day (yes, countries lobby for this).
A resolution is drafted and circulated.
The UN General Assembly votes or adopts it by consensus.
Once approved, boom — it’s on the calendar, and somewhere a PR intern updates a Canva template.
That’s how we got the International Day of Clean Energy, World Football Day, and International Day of Play, all added in just the past couple of years.
In reality, these days do have noble intentions. They’re used to raise awareness, rally media attention, and mobilise action. But intent and impact are rarely the same thing. Especially in a world where scrolling replaces doing.
The Countermovement: A Day of Absolutely Nothing
Of course, every celebration breeds a backlash. IDID has its own quiet opposition — a rogue group advocating for the International Day of No International Days.
Their mission? Silence. No hashtags. No ribbons. No virtue signals. Just 24 hours to exist without being reminded that today is International Acknowledgement of Forgotten Observances Day.
They’re not anti-awareness — they’re just tired. They want one day where they can eat breakfast without wondering if it supports ocean sustainability.
Their unofficial spokesman, Keith from Ipswich, sums it up:
“I’m not a bad person. I’m just exhausted. I can’t keep pretending to be emotionally invested in alpacas and anxiety disorders at the same time.”
Fair.
Meanwhile, in the Real World…
Governments are reacting in their own strange ways:
Australia has floated a “We Might Celebrate That Later Day.”
France, naturally, responded with a three-hour lunch and no explanation.
The UN is rumoured to be drafting a Pre-Observation Preparation Week to help us mentally brace for the days ahead.
A proposed Global Retrospective Day will allow people to mourn the awareness days they missed reposting due to wine, life, or both.
And yes, these are jokes. For now.
The Real Meaning of Meaning
But under the satire lies something real — a quiet exhaustion from overcommitting to care.
When everything is a cause, cause fatigue is inevitable.
When every day is sacred, none of them are.
The International Day of International Days isn’t just a punchline — it’s a cultural mirror. It asks, with a raised eyebrow and a weary smile:
What happens when meaning becomes mandatory?
Do we scroll harder? Or finally log off?
Maybe we take a page from Arlo, a 6-year-old who, when asked how he plans to celebrate IDID, replied:
“I’m just gonna play Lego and not tell anyone.”
And maybe — just maybe — that’s the most radical form of activism we’ve got left.
