The end of the world... or not

Being in a completely different timezone this year means I can't do any ‘last year this time’ style reminisces without a lot of confusion and back pedaling. But I do remember last year clearly, and though I don’t usually do new year’s eve posts, the difference between 2011 and 2012 was so marked, I had to put this down.

New year’s eve 2011 was all kinds of awesome, a fitting end to the year itself. I was living in my own house, the first one which felt like home other than my parents’; I enjoyed my work – and my time outside of work; and, of course, I had the kind of marriage that I honestly believed only existed in wildly imaginative fiction.

2012, in contrast, often felt like the end of the world. I kind of prided myself on outgrowing my tendency to be snappy & tensed, but this year brought it on full force - shifting houses (and cities, and countries, and continents) not once, but three times… it’s been a busy, busy year. Career drama was a constant undercurrent through the year, and, like an Ekta Kapoor serial, it rumbles on in the background.

People I thought were fixtures in my life passed on – some passed away; others, I realized, weren’t worth it – though that idea’s still something I struggle with; I’m not great at letting go. On the bright side, I took a deep breath and dug out people whom I knew were worth it, but whom I’d cut out of my life for purely egoistic or otherwise stupid reasons. And it was exhausting, but so, so worth it.

To be honest, my life so far has been a near constant 2011. I’ve cruised my way through it almost unfairly easily. It’s made me expect things to magically fall in place, and 2012 saw a great deal of insecurity surface when it didn’t automatically. Here’s a confession: my job terrifies me because it’s the first one where I’m actually learning. And while the learning part’s going great, I’ve been slightly… ehm, compulsive. I believe that a certain pair of earrings & a necklace are my lucky charms and I’ve been wearing them to work every day for the last four months. Me. That’s ridiculous.

I have twenty five pairs of earrings in Toronto (and that’s a careful selection of my favorites), but for four. months. I’ve worn a pair of black hoop earrings, which I don’t even like, along with an amethyst chain, which, okay, I love, but it doesn’t even really go with the earrings, and it definitely doesn’t go with all of my clothes. I’m not even a chain person, I do bracelets! I love-love-love bracelets, but I haven’t worn any even because I don’t want to mess with what seems to be working. And God forbid I should be working, rather than my accessories.

Well, I spent a part of last week in Barcelona, a city which I highly recommend to everyone, because my GOD, those people know how to live. My love-babble on the city is a subject for another post, but let’s just say, I came back today and, with a burst of Barca-Barca-joy, wore my reindeer earrings to work, with a platinum bracelet and no chain. And the world didn’t end. Heck, it was great. No one else was in the office, and I ate (regrettable amounts of) holiday chocolate & had an incredibly peaceful day.

So here’s to 2013. A year when I ignore how 13’s supposed to be unlucky, quell my chicken-dance urges, and take risks. They’re bound of pay off, if only because they make me slightly less tight-assed, one leap of faith at a time. We begin by letting the husband order in dinner tonight rather than trying to be superwoman-biwi-no-1-despite-a-very-achey-fever. And also, I don't go back and edit this to sound more clever, or shorter, or any such thing, because it's exactly what I feel, thank you very much. Huzzah. Happy new year, all.