I can’t say that 2012 was OH MY GOD AMAZEBALLS!!! I’ve never been that positive. I’ve never been so negative as to say, “WORST YEAR EVER IN THE HISTORY OF EVERYTHING!!!!”
(Which is just an English major way to say “but”……)
While 2012 wasn’t the worst year, it sure as hell wasn’t the greatest, either. It was just kinda there, like that birthmark you’re always watching to see if it turns into melanoma.
While we were doing our New Year’s Eve cleaning, I commented to John that 2012 had felt like more of the same, a holding pattern at best. Nothing had changed, and not because we loved it all so much that we wanted it to stay the same. We want things to be different than they are.
So, I actually have a resolution this year (I stopped doing resolutions in college because they’re an artifact of a culture that encourages self-hate): be as brave as my parents think I am.
When I was down in Florida this past November, family friends said stuff like, “Your mom was so proud of you for taking off and going where you wanted.” Or, “Your mom always bragged about her spunky daughter.” Or, “Your dad always says how amazing and gutsy you are.”
Maybe I should try to live up to that expectation again.
Because, dammit, I’m gonna be 3bloody7 this year. My mom was 54 when she died. Her mom was about the same age. Which means I have like maybe 20 years to live the life I want to live. That’s nothing. Sh!t. Maybe I should stop fcuking around and stop taking so many naps. And maybe stop going to my shrink. Those are valuable hours. Or so my insurance company tells me.