It's that time...

... of year again. That time when I mumble my way through the brooding I have surrounded myself with and find no effective or efficient way to say goodbye.

I loathe and look forward to the period from Diwali to the 5th of January the most. I get contemplative around New Year anyway - stock taking and all nonsense - but two New Years just bloody tears it, don't you know!

It's been a strange year. I cannot, with any honesty, say that it's been a bad year. But neither has it been even acceptable. It's been educational. It's been difficult and wearing. And most importantly it's been, in some ways, empowering.

I've learned, grown, and I've experienced. I've faltered, been weak, and I've known self-doubt. I've felt mad in my head, laughed from my toes, and I've been a penguin. And through everything, I've been sustained primarily by the strength of two wonderful, wonderful men and the tolerance and affection of those I've neglected.

And it's been a year of two very important achievements.

One, that I've truly grown into an individual. I'm finally not part of a group, a herd. No more group cackling over men, jobs, and hair days. A process of evolution rather than eviction, now there is naught but individual relationships and no pressure.

Two, that I've finally learned patience. Or at least, I've learned how to let things come to me... to be instead of becoming. There are a number of people, I'm told, happy that I finally know the difference between silence and quietness.

I'm going to leave you with this wonderful little piece by Thomas Hood and hope like hell that you and I have a good one. :-)


And ye, who have met with Adversity's blast,
And been bow'd to the earth by its fury;
To whom the Twelve Months, that have recently pass'd
Were as harsh as a prejudiced jury -
Still, fill to the Future! and join in our chime,
The regrets of remembrance to cozen,
And having obtained a New Trial of Time,
Shout in hopes of a kindlier dozen.

Thought for the day

Resentment, I've discovered lately, tastes like a sewer that someone else is regurgitating up my throat, and swirling around my mouth like fine, single malt whiskey.