Kaboom! Goes the Piccolo

Spot the clichés, folks. This will be rife with them, I tell ya.

I was hoping not to write anything for the end of the year. I wanted to break from the tradition of making year-end evaluations and introspections reserved for the changing of calendars every 360 or so days. I mean I can muse and introspect all I want at any time of the year. But it’s almost a reflex for me, to once again drift into existentialist assessments come this season. Considering this will be my supposed last Christmas break, I knew I’d have a lot of time on my hands to think and contemplate. So yes, I knew from the start that my “change of pace” was never going to happen.

All I can say is, ah yes, 2012 you have been marvellously full to the brim.

I haven’t written in this little nook for two months now, and obviously a lot has transpired since October. That’s the thing with 2012—things happen at the most unexpected times and in the most unexpected durations. I started off hopeful and ecstatic, which quickly turned into a sinusoidal ride, and this year’s journey had crests and troughs abound. It was ultimately exhausting, even for a person like me who worships extremes.  I look at myself right now and I quite can’t figure out how far I’ve come or how different I had been 366 sleep cycles ago.

Right, that was a terrible estimate of my sleep cycles. 2012 surely had way less than that.

If there’s anything I have learned through two years and two decades—which 2012 has ever so kindly reinforced in my head like all the years that have come before—is that you can never be sure of whoever comes, goes, and stays. I’ve made myself believe that I’m not easily shocked with anything anymore, but I realized I could still be wrong with my threshold for surprises. It was a year of heartbreaks, and it was a year of re-experiencing the things that I love. It was a year of new discoveries, as it was a year of debunked theories. It was definitely a year of clichéd disappointments and victories. I could go on about those if my brain isn’t too stressed about the language shifts. Home does that to me.

The year-that-was was huge, but I know the coming year will even be bigger. It’s the scary kind of bigger, and I’m not sure if I want to start on the huge scary things just yet. 2013 will be a year of major decisions and major consequences, and I’m absolutely terrified. Quite an honest sentiment that is, and I’m a bit surprised I’m being a bit more eloquent with my fears (among other feelings). At any rate, when life does give me lemons eventually, I’ll go off and make marinade, and save some for tequila shots later.

As far as my writing is concerned, I can’t say for sure what to make of it. You’ve all heard too many of my “I’ll get back to writing once I get my affairs in order” already and all other variations. You’ll hear from me, don’t worry, just no promises on how often or on what about. I did churn out a few decent thought-to-word outputs this year after all.

It may not have been the year I deserved, but it had been the year I needed. It was a good year. With all checks and balances considered, it was a good year. And I won’t stop with the Batman references just yet.