Year's End Evening 2015

The year 2015 ends with me sitting in my humble dim living room, by my fireplace that was lit and kindled with the old calendars, sipping on a Scotch* on the rocks, reading and reviewing my chronicled entries I wrote throughout this year that has passed, and writing this current one. I really can’t find the will to be around any other company, despite feeling somewhat more alone than usual right now. The playlist generator app I switched on in iTunes guessed and programmed the perfect set of songs for what’s rolling around my mind right now. The ideal title for this particular playlist would be It’s There and Real. I wish it could be shared with the one I’ve been thinking about.

I was sort of lamenting earlier, as I wrote my last entry, about how 2015 did no special favours for me as a year of good fortune, and I’m at the point where I’m begging for some better karma for 2016. It seems though lately like even a small bit of good luck is a huge thing to ask and pray for. Even when good luck does come there now seems to be a catch, or a caveat. It seems to find a way of short changing me the chance of any complete potential, or the fullest scale for total happiness. Shortly after posting the last entry a little more than a week ago, I received a revelation that stunned and shook me to my very soul. I’ve been in a strange place ever since then, one in which I waver between states: where on one hand I feel like my heart wants to explode with joy, reveling in news that a guy like me would equate to winning the lottery . . . twice!  Then, I find myself falling just as suddenly to the other extreme of wallowing about in a fog of despair because the timing, distance, and other circumstances leave me powerless to be able to do anything more to make the reality of the situation less complicated and conflicted. It's like holding a winning lottery ticket . . . and being unable to collect the prize. A promise of discretion keeps me from explaining anymore about it; I could never betray the trust of the person who told me the facts. It’s something that I couldn’t ever forget anyway, and thus it's not necessary for me to record more here in great detail for the sake of my memory. All I can say is that I really wish I had the ability to clone the dearest people in my life. 

I have set no resolutions for this upcoming year: at least none which I could proclaim openly. My last meal of the year was nothing monumental. I worked this evening with no special ceremonies, struggling hard to find and recall any other special moments of the year for myself, other than what I just mentioned. It was futile. My last purchase of the year is a 3 TB cloud drive, for the arduous task of archiving and organizing my digital life so I can attempt to move other mountains. The recent effort of trying to recover some old photos showed me how urgently this needs to be done. It was bought out of necessity, not desire. It’s for preserving other work I have for the vain hope that it may get published some day. The threat of my laptop crashing any day still looms. Dealing with that may be my next issue.

I just glanced at a clock to see that I’m 40 minutes into the new year. My glass is now empty. Ella’s fear of fireworks was triggered from the bursts and shock waves from outside, and I suppose I have to coax her out of her hiding place. I suppose I should be thankful that throughout this past week, I’ve got real with myself after being sort of jolted and then coaxed out of some hiding places too.

Welcome 2016! Please don’t be as cruel of a year as 2015 was.

*-Single malt, 12 year old Auchentoshan . . . excellent stuff.