The year is now drawing to a close. I've always been very superstitious about New Year's Eve. Like, the way you spend the night will be reflective of the way you spend your entire year.
Last New Years Eve Phil and I were both full of the flu. We wanted desperately to stay in bed, watch stand up comedy and leak from all available facial orifices. But for some reason we couldn't let the night escape us. We struggled through a meal with friends neither of which we had appetite for. We stumbled through the cold in uncomfortable clothing arriving at a bar with two many bodies. Reluctantly accepting whiskey shots the music started to sound good. Pockets stuffed with dank tissue our feet found a rhythm, hands found it too. By the end of the night we were dancing.
This was probably my worst year to date. Although some of my worst days belonged to other years' this year was just generally very dark and disappointing. Not enough peaks to even out the troughs.
Everything gradually brightened up however. The thought of being in the same mental state as I was a year ago terrifies me, although I can't pinpoint any particular time when it changed. Everything is now in a fairly good position for the next steps to come. I hope there is still time for dancing.