Farewell, 2015

Note: If you haven’t had a chance to read my guest post on Opal’s lovely blog, here’s the link.

 

Source

 

It’s difficult to write a year review post, because honestly, everything’s pretty much a blur for me. People ask me how 2015 has been, and all I can think is, I wrote a lot, I read a lot, I aged, end of story. Yeah, I processed things, and I’d like to believe my mind grew. I’d like to think I improved at the activities I love. Maybe I got worse.

As always, I added more books to my personal library and more experiences to my mental records. I moved to a different state and started a new life. Fortunately, I made a lot of friends in the blogosphere, and my blog grew, but I still get nervous about posting. I’m pretty sure I will always get nervous about posting. And I will always have that tendency to question the quality of my writing.

This year I’ve started to learn more about caring for other people, about opening up, about talking. I've learned that sometimes people actually want to read what I have to say, although that still seems like a crazy notion.

In a strange and wonderful plot twist, I write full time now. No, I am not published yet—I still haven’t seen a penny for any of my words. But my sister is providing for all my needs because she says that’s her investment in my writing career, that I can pay her back when I’m a crazy rich New York Times Bestselling author. Emphasis on the when. She has more true confidence in my abilities than I do.

In other news, New Year’s Day is my birthday. I confess, I always feel weird about having birthdays. Are they optional? It’s not that I dislike the reminder that I am getting older, and it’s not that I’m worried I’m too young. I just don’t like age labels. I’ve never felt like I belonged to my age, and the number tag feels dishonest. Maybe there is a difference between the number of years lived and the actual age of a person. Birthdays jar me because they remind me I am nowhere near as old as I think. They remind me that I haven’t yet lived even a third of the average American life expectancy. Is it possible to grow old twice? I feel old. Not spectacularly mature, just remarkably ancient. I don’t remember what it’s like to feel young.

 

I had goals for this year. Some I met, and others I didn’t. Life’s like that. But this was not a bad year, and I am happy to have lived it, even though it was far too short. Years are short. I enter one, I blink, and it’s gone. Another one comes in its place, only to hurry off into the sunset. Eventually, I’ll wake up bewildered, wondering when I turned eighty and how on earth that number snuck up on me. You wait and see. It just might happen to you as well.

I have goals for 2016. Big goals. Goals that will keep me busier than ever. But busyness is satisfying because I don’t feel the weight of time so much when my mind is active. I want to share more of myself with you, posts like this one and this one and this one. I want to read more and write more and think more. I want to get published (but I bet you already knew that). Most importantly, in whatever small way I can, I want to make 2016 a brighter year for all of you because you made 2015 bright for me.

Happy New Year!

Well, that’s it, little coffee beans. What are your goals for 2016? Feel free to guess how old I’m turning. Also, if you have any suggestions on how you think I could make this blog more interesting in the coming year, please let me know. I love hearing back from all of you.

Pros and Cons

Tomorrow, on the first day of 2015, nothing will feel different. New Year’s will be just another day. Of course, I’m not talking about the aftermath of all that partying. It’s just—this date; it’s not exactly magic. At least not for me. Which is really sad, because it’s my birthday.

So what are the pros and cons of having a birthday on New Year’s?

Pro:  I get to make lists.

Con:  You have to read them. (Actually, no one’s forcing you, except that ninja over there. The one peering over your shoulder. Smile and wave. He likes friendly people.)  

Pro:  The whole world celebrates my birthday. Talk about PARTY!!!!

Con:  I get antisocial at parties.

Pro:  Christmas doesn’t have long to fade before other exciting things happen.

Con:  After Thanksgiving pies and Christmas chocolate, birthday cake is not going to help my new resolution to eat better.

Pro:  I get to make my own birthday cake.

Con:  I make my own birthday cake.

Pro:  Birthday presents!

Con:  Because I have room for those amongst all the piles of books I got for Christmas.

Pro:  It’s a new year!

Con:  It feels suspiciously like last year.

Pro:  Convenience. I know exactly how old I was at any given point in any given year. I don’t have to hem and haw and rub my chin trying to figure out if June comes after April and whether that would have made me twelve or thirteen during the time of the Great Shenanigan.

Con:  Other people’s birthdays—like my friend’s—are easier to forget.

Pro:  When people ask, “So you’re a new Year’s baby?”, I get to look at them funny and ask right back, “Do I look like a baby?”

Con:  When they say yes.

Pro:  It’s really hard to forget my birthday.

Con:  I spent the last week thinking we were past the fifth of January already because vacation does that to my brain.

Pro:  My sister’s birthday comes six days later.

Con:  More. Cake.

 

Ever get those awkward family newsletters that go out around this time—the ones with the irrelevant, overly familiar personal information? Well, what a year it’s been. Thelma passed twelve kidney stones, Benjamin got arrested for drunk driving (I told him not to mix with that crowd, but when do kids his age ever listen?), and Nance is expecting quintuplets. Aside from gangrene and chronic gas, I’m recovering nicely from the liposuction incident.

I should totally write one of those. In fact, here goes—the completely true, mostly fictional account of 2014.

Well, what a year it’s been (which is basically saying it was a year—something we should already know). Just the other day, I was driving around town in my Lamborghini with my celebrity boyfriend, when I saw dozens of teenagers walking with cell phones in hand, texting as though their lives depended on it. And I thought to myself, “Goodness, why does nobody live in reality these days?”

I developed a severe allergy to O₂ mid-August, but the doctor thinks I must be getting superpowers, so I’m not too concerned. The hospital bills were high though…

Very high…

If you know what I mean.

I’m sure you all got lovely presents and…money…for Christmas.

Like I said, those hospital bills were high.

 

Now that you all refuse to take me seriously, though I can’t imagine why, I would like to wish you all a happy New Year (which seems rather self-serving, since it’s like the birthday girl going around wishing everyone a happy birthday on her birthday—alas, you’ll judge me, won’t you?). Even though the start of this year might not feel different and magical—though it could for you—this is still a chance for a fresh start and a new lease on life. Actually, every day gives you that chance—every dawn and every sunset. But somehow the marker on the calendar is far more convincing.

So, happy Second Chance Eve!