So Jezebel had a post up that pretty much succinctly described my previous year. Fuck you, 2010. Yeah. It was a shitty, shitty, shitty year and if my Facebook feed is to be believed, I’m not the only one who felt that way. My friends’ and random old classmates’ statuses read from, “Thank god, 2010 is over” to “2011, prepare to be owned.” For me, it says something that my two biggest life lessons from the year gone by are also pretty unhappy ones: 1) Lying awake in our bedroom in the UK, staring at the ceiling, wondering if I was ever going to be happy again and promising myself that I would NEVER EVER EVER let someone make me feel that low and 2) having really, really, really low expectations of people and things so that now I’m all, “wow, that turned out better than I thought.”
I used to be an optimist, 2010, but now I’m really not. Now, no matter how sunshine-y I try to think, little cynical thoughts keep invading my mind. I’m no longer pure optimist like I was, nowadays my optimism is as about as real as a fake orgasm, and about that satisfactory too. Have you ever read that poem by Elizabeth Bishop? The Art Of Losing? Well, it describes my present status to a t, especially the lines:
“I lost two cities, lovely ones. And vaster,
Some realms I owned,two rivers, a continent,
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.”
I was in Delhi for New Year’s Eve, my first time Not In Goa in like, four years. Ah, Goa. I found myself searching for the smell of sea and unwashed hippy and hashish. And Bloody Marys. The winter somehow doesn’t make Bloody Marys as satisfying as they are on a nice summer’s day for lunch. Now I’m also idealising summer. Having not seen the sun in over a week and a half, I’m having pangs of what I suspect is Seasonal Affective Disorder (with its very cute acronym: SAD. Awww.) and yearning for sun, bare brown shoulders, even sweat sounds good to me right now.
But, let me tell you about my New Year’s Eve. You know I’m all like “what you do on New Year’s Eve is like a PORTENT for the rest of your year”? In that case, this is going to be an excellent, excellent year. A couple of friends and I, all with no plans, decided to call everyone else who had no plans and drink a lot. Previously mentioned Low Expectation Life Lesson From 2010 made me delighted that a couple of lovely people showed up, we cranked up the party mix on my iPod and danced like crazy people. Then around one, everyone prepared to go to other parties and I too, was whisked away to some fancy government bungalow for party number 2. This year clearly is going to be my year with old and new friends, making my own parties wherever I go. The year of not depending on other people. The year of being free.
Maybe there’s some hope of finding my lost optimism and in the process, my lost mojo along the way? I hope all your years are filled with success (because we all need money) and fulfilment (because money isn’t everything) and love (even if, like me, one of your main sources of love is a pretty awesome tabby cat). And because we don’t want to be all OLD! and BORING! before our time, dahlinks, I hope this is also a year of great stories and interesting times. Whaddaya know? The optimism is seeping back after all.