Happy New Year!

So 2010 is upon us, and it feels pretty good. I’m hoping that the rule with New Years Eve parties is similar to that expounded on Sex and the City about weddings; that the more disastrous the wedding, the better the marriage. Because my New Years Eve was spent surrounded by food I’m allergic to, missing the party I was intending to go to, and paying R250 for a terrible cover band in a nondescript venue in a town in which I knew almost no people. It culminated in my passing out on the pavement at 2am like a derelict homeless person or teenage Essex girl and having to be rescued by my father - something that has never happened in all my 25 and three quarter years. But the defeat, symbolic as it was of my emotional state towards the end of last year, was oddly cathartic. Somehow in that broken mess I found my resolve, my backbone and my optimism. So instead of throwing my voice in with those who actually felt The Recession and shouting good riddance to 2009, I’m looking forward to 2010 with an unfamiliar and welcome lightness of being. If the Mayans are right, we’ve got less than three years to work with, and I’m not going to lose another moment. The non-believer in New Year’s resolutions finds himself plotting everything from running the Two Oceans to learning violin, falling in love, decorating the hell out of my new flat, and finishing my book. This is going to be the year, people. Yee-fucking-ha! as the cowboys get to say.