I’m going to try keeping this brief, because there’s not much good to say about two thousand and nine. I’m sure that, many years ahead, I’ll look back upon this year and have kinder words for it: character building, challenging, a turning point. Right now the pain is too close to analyze.
I believe the next year will be a turning point. There are many fine tendrils weaving their way towards good things. A brilliant, talented wife that tolerates my eccentricities with grace and snarky comments. Many fine people, met or imagined, that I now call friend. Writing that improves with each passing day. A job that, despite some rocky months this past year, continues to give me the freedom to craft my own future.
I’ve set many goals for the next year, personal and professional. Getting debt from the divorce paid and forever behind me. Getting personal finances in order. Deciding where we want to live and finding a house. Writing and editing many stories. Submitting said stories. Get more physically fit. Start walking again. Maybe take martial arts again. Things I, more or less, have control over. No more stressing over the things I don’t.
In like a lion, out like a lamb. A pretty apt description of this decade. Ten years ago I was working in New York City, a consultant for NBC. Working New Years Eve, armed with a special security badge (which I still have somewhere) allowing me into the building on the eve of the new millennium. Y2K fever spread rampantly, with security precautions and stockpiling. Much ado about nothing. Follow that with 9⁄11 and Hurricane Katrina. As we bring this decade to its close, this era of ineptitude, insecurity theater, underwear bombers, Jon & Kate, and the Octomom, I say good riddance. Bitterly. Let’s have some forward progress and substance in the next ten years, eh?