What’s upon us…
New Years Eve is usually the night where you make these well-intentioned promises to improve one aspect of yourself, and by the time spring rolls around, you’ve reneged on at least three of them. New Years Eve is also one of those nights where it’s socially acceptable to get shitfaced to the point where you question your life’s choices. I had a few rum and Pepsis tonight to just make it different from any other night, but I don’t have the energy or the desire to get myself wearing the proverbial lampshade hat anyway, and I think I’m just going to turn in after watching a few DVDs or listening to a little music.
I can’t say years have been good or bad anymore. There’s such a mixture of the welcome with the absolute excrement that occurs in any given year that I’m not willing to write a year off or give it a free pass like I used to. My grandmother died right at the beginning of the year, I got laid off in October, and I’m still in Miramichi right now, but I also had the opportunity to spend time with friends I hadn’t seen in ages, and I’ve narrowed down my search for a new city to Halifax, and I’ll get back to the ensuing job hunt once I’m not so distracted by holidays and visiting sisters from up North. I’ve read blog posts that were written with such precision and pull that I could only dream about being able to approach, and I’ve connected with many different people online. I was both brazen and cautious about what I shared about myself, and I’ve alternately reached out and pulled away. My main regret is how much stasis still exists in my life, and all the things I vow to change about myself yet never actually commit to doing.
I find myself contemplating the nature of the universe time and time again. I see all the negativity around me and that I’ve had my part in, particularly when it’s related to politics. I struggle with ideas that I’ve been surrounded by since childhood, and whether I can truly subscribe to some set definition of the meaning of life to the exclusion of all others. I find definitions for myself that fluctuate from one minute to the next, and grow fainter the more I succumb to routine and playing it safe.
I turn 30 this year. In too many ways I still don’t feel like an adult, but in too many other ways I feel much older than I really am.
I would like to wish a happy new year to all my friends, followers and readers, but I think it’s more appropriate to wish that they have what they need to get through the next revolution around the sun. I can’t guarantee it’s going to be a good year for anyone much less myself, and it’s basically just another stumble into chance, whether it’s some sort of predestined path we’re being thrown into or not. But I hope I don’t stray too far from you.