Last night on my way home from my last class, I contemplated the year that had just passed.
I wanted to focus on the good things, but even saying, “I am grateful…” began to sound like a recitation.
Then I remembered: “Hot dogs and coffee. And watch out for the typhoon.”
______________________
I don’t have much to say right now, so here’s a picture:
Okay, a little negative, and it is New Year’s after all.
One more, then:
______________________
I didn’t write much this year – published less than 2,000 words compared to over 22,000 last year.
One reason: I felt I had said what I wanted to say.
In 2023 I expressed some thoughts about life and death. Despite the fact that the war in Ukraine is still raging, I didn’t add much to what I said last year. There was also not much I could add about my opinion on the China-Taiwan issue. Like most people, I was shocked by what happened in Israel on October 7th and have since followed with horror on social media what is happening in Gaza.
Other news came and went.
Like every year, people predict the end of the world in the new year.
Like every year, they will probably be wrong.
At the other end of the spectrum, some people predict a good year – for some people.
I am agnostic myself. And full of hope.
Perhaps it will turn out to be a good time to bring things together.
I decided to break my own tradition this year and not write a year-end piece.
Normally I feel the need to spell out that the year that’ll be over in a few hours has been good.
I also feel it necessary to say for the record (seeing that this is what this corner of the global information network is: a record of my existence) that I hope the next year will also be good.
Because I have not, as far as I can remember, publicly complained about anything this year, I cannot claim at this late hour that the year has not been good.
And because I’m optimistic by nature, I also find it unnecessary to make it clear for the record that I’m optimistic about next year.
So, because I can’t include these usual statements in my end-of-year piece, about what else can I type words to publish minutes later for people in Argentina and Siberia and Alaska and Durbanville to read?
Nothing.
So, stay positive. Even if it doesn’t always make sense. (Unless, of course, someone wants to kidnap you. In that case, you have to expect the worst and fight like your life depends on it.)
______________________
Could certainly have been expected after all these years. I ran out of words. Or I had to buy new words, but I forgot. Or I ordered some words, but the container ship sunk. Or the train derailed. Or the plane ran out of gas.
Previously I talked about what had been done. But that’s done now.
Or I talked about what was going to be done.
Or I told anecdotes of anger, sadness, joy, fear, and embarrassment.
But everyone gets angry. Sad things happen. Joy is wonderful. Fear is a pest, and embarrassment is a waste of time. Most of the time.
Best of all, I look forward to next year. I think it will be an exceptionally good year.
Like every year.
______________________