2011 has been shown the door permanently, and while I know it's not the wisest to wish away any of our limited days, still I have to say it wasn't a moment too soon. The year wasn't a complete disaster--really, none of them are completely bad--but it was in many ways stressful, and disheartening. (As have been most years in recent memory, if I'm honest.) I've been in a grand dysthmic funk for a week or so, and it's only just started to lift.
Really, this is a rotten time to have a birthday. The pleasure of ringing in a new year's possibilities is mitigated by one's advancing antiquity, making it harder to attain the appropriate level of festive frivolity. (Note: alcohol helps with that.) I'm getting kind of damned old for being knocked back to square one, being forced to start over--and yet I have to wonder just how many people out there, some even older than I can currently imagine being, would give most anything to have just that chance. I can see the faintest glimmers of what just might be possibilities glinting through the gloom, and if I have a wish for the coming year it's that I'll be able to dig them out and put them to use. I hate uncertainty; I hate it. But that's all there is, and it'll just have to be enough.
There are fireworks still going off half an hour after midnight. Fergus is enjoying the cork from the spumante. It's time I changed the channel, because I have to say I am not enjoying this type of music. Sirius is visible, high and bright in tonight's sky. And despite everything that 2011 threw at me, I'm still here, and that's sufficient for tonight.
Happy New Year, everyone. Maybe this year will be better than the last.