Another year over

It's customary at the death's end of a year to look back over the months past, and to measure the distance since that last raising of hopes at the deepest point of winter. I'm usually the type to indulge a near-term nostalgia, but this year I'm feeling less inclined to rise to the inspection. In a way, it's simpler not to think too hard about it. Highlights of 2005 were, in no particular order: birth of my nephew; my visit to New York; my Audi; moving back into my flat; sculpture class. Lowpoints were, again in no particular order: going back to my old job; getting turned down at interviews; dropping my forbidden affections; getting busted for speeding.

It's also fairly normal for me to look ahead to the turning of the year and groan. Like birthdays and anniversaries, these calendar milestones just put me in a mood about where everything is and how I never seem to be satisfied. This year, ironically, I'm not feeling as pessimistic as I normally do. When I do go back to work next week, I know that it'll be about 6 weeks remaining before I get the hell out of that project, which ain't too bad. I'm booked to go skiing with the guys in March. I have a few interviews lined up for January... so there are things to look forward to.

Will 2006 prove to be a better year than 2005? Obviously, this is something that cannot be answered right now. What I can say is that the perception of a year as "good" or "bad" becomes more and more vague as time goes by. I guess it's because life becomes more complicated. At 19, it's all about studies, girls and the future - the risk-reward framework, social networks and the economics are fairly manageable. At 29, there are so many conflicting concerns, so many things falling into the mix - things like tax, career prospects, pressure to get married and settle down, work-life balance, the need to do something worthy, and the sense that time to fulfil one's dreams is continually draining away. It's important, however, that you don't let that stop you from still reaching for it - you have to keep reaching for it, otherwise we'd all end up suiciding eventually.

Turpitude... Motivation... the passing of Richard Pryor

Turpitude

Sometimes, we do bad things. It happens. We know it's not good, but we do it anyway, and sometimes there's just no alternative. What's my bad thing? Well. it's bad enough that Moses brought back one of the commandments not to do it.

So they say, "don't break up a happy home", and I decided to behave and leave the married woman alone. Then comes another, and she's engaged, and I just can't help myself. I hawk and move, flirt and test the limits of her devotion. Is all fair in these matters? What has fair got to do with it anyway? I look at the flipside, and see that it would be awful to be on the receiving end.

Motivation

My motivation appears low at the moment. I have an interview this Friday, and another next Wednesday, and this should mean that I'm in fully-focused, go-getter mode. But no, in fact I'm feeling quite... not indifferent as such, but ambivalent. Yes, there are still opportunities out there that I can try going after, but right now I just want to curl up and sleep for a week.

I think it's because of the anticipation of xmas, the wind-down. I hate being on an out-of-town project at this time of year, because at least when you're in the capital you can slip out and wander the xmas market, or watch people consuming in the high street.

the passing of Richard Pryor

I don't feel bad for celebrities when they die, most of the time. Let me re-phrase that - I don't feel especially concerned when they do pass away, not that it matters whether they are famous or not. But I felt bad when I heard that Richard Pryor had died. Not just because he had a shitty end to life, but because, selfishly (as it always is with entertainers), I thought that maybe he'd come back. Miracles - who can say whether they happen or not? Certainly not Richard. I have recordings of his great stand-up performances, and they always touched me and cracked me up. I loved wearing my Pryor tee-shirt. It made me feel expansive and true to the anger that bubbled persistently within...

Something hot in a cold country

It's cold in my world at the moment. My boiler died, and is being replaced at a sickening cost to my pocket. When they quoted me the price, I almost vomited - let's put it this way, it's not going to be a generous christmas this year! Anyhow, today the installers have bashed huge holes in my walls, and as night is falling the prospect of sleeping in a perforated apartment looms. So it is cold and damp, and I'm not liking it. I'd rather be on a beach, in sunshine.

But Christmas is coming, and the prospect of one whole week at my folks' place eating good food and drinking without consequence is a highly entertaining one. It will also be my nephew's first xmas, and I will be happily cooing and gurning in the warmth of family.

I've been feeling moments of love recently. Sometimes I well up with affection for people, apparently for the smallest kindness or communion. I have short, comforting smalltalk with a colleague about coping with the downers of work. The chat is brief but there is a sense of sincerity, such that we both suddenly appear vulnerable, making ourselves almost naked. Needing, and being needed; Longing, however temporary, and being longed for, however temporarily, is magnetically beautiful. I wanted to wrap her up in my arms, bury my head into her neck, breathe in her emotional exposure, infuse it with my own. Restraint, how difficult it was to maintain...

So how come I'm feeling so full of this emotion even at this, often the bleakest time of year? I don't know why... maybe it's the music on the radio at the moment. The kind that wraps you up in the 3 mins it takes to play. Royksopp, in particular. Perhaps also it's the arching back of the night at barely 5pm, the darkness calling for humanity to bond closer as we did before electricity. Who knows...