January. It is what it is.

You see, it’s frustrating. Nigh on impossible to write the first post in a long time, the first post of 2013 without alluding to the fact that a new calendar year has begun. It’s a well-known fact that I despise moments like this- public celebrations of new beginnings. New Years and birthdays are designed (in my pessimistic mind) to ensure one re-evaluates the way in which they have been living over the past 365 days, and how there are a number of inadequacies that need remedying. Resolutions, I’m sure, are supposed to inspire, motivate and set plans into action. Yet I stoically reject any notion created to remind me of how I have failed to achieve any unreachable goal that I may have set myself a full revolution of the Earth around the Sun ago.

The thing is that 2012 really wasn’t that hateful, in fact, it surprised me with some intense experiences. I found acceptance on a scale I don’t think I could have ever dreamed. My morose preconceptions melted away by blazing love to reveal smiling faces of family ready to embrace my choices. My protective armour thinned and I was forced to expose a large piece of my true self to one and all. I always thought it would lead to a painful rejection but it didn’t. If anything, it raised my own natural esteem, lifted me to a stature I had no idea existed. I’m not purposefully being cryptic, merely expressing the way that my darkest fears and self-isolation have revealed themselves to be little more than my own shadow. And now I can stand just a little straighter, free to squeeze the hand next to me and actually be celebrated for it. I owe everything to the face next to mine in the mornings for the part that he has played upon this journey to a more peaceful existence.

2 years are such an enormous breadth of time, yet that is how long it takes for things to seemingly settle. Yesterday marked 2 years since my return to the UK and tomorrow is the beginning of a new term at 3 new schools doing something I’m damned good at. It’s everything I’ve worked for- and this is what symbolises new for me, not an arbitrary date amongst millions in our way of organising time.

So now it’s January and I’m faced with the aftermath of being a christmas temp in a retail environment. December was wasted in a perpetual state of dehydration and over zealous customer service poignantly marked by new musical discoveries; all which point to the fact that if I could just get through those 2 soul-destroying months, 2013 would arrive and it could just be the year. Uber contradictory, I know. You try being this complicated.

The problem with any fleeting element of positivity is that in order for it to continue long enough to become the year, you need to have previously outlined what will make it so momentous, and thus the cycle of resolutions, expectations and failures begins again.

Therefore I continue my confused sense of pessimistic rejection of optimistic resolutions and end this post, which marks the beginning of my new working adventures, by sharing one of my hollywood chick-flick-esque discoveries of 2012. Draw your eyelid shut, imagine it’s just before the credits roll, and see your face reflected in the protagonist’s. You know it’s all going to be ok, otherwise they wouldn’t have made a movie about it.

Happy 2013 x


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