New Years Eve, in general, sucks. The pressure to make it something meaningful and lots of fun, while somehow marking the passage of time, raises expectations that are never met. I do best with a small group of friends and a large amount of alcohol. Last year's baby bump prevented the latter, and for that I had the most dull New Years of ever. This year I am recovering from the Great Christmas Plague, and I fear it won't be much better. Plus I have a baby. So the wild partying? Kind of out. Not that, if I actually had some wild friends around here, I wouldn't shove him on my parents (sorry Jack!) and go out, but seeing as I don't....yeah. Lets just say the day is here and plans are still up in the air.
While this decade was pretty amazing for me, 2009 was a pretty crap year to be honest. I know that's a horrible thing to say about the year in which my beautiful son was born, but it's the truth. It was the unhappiest year I've had in a long, long time, a year in which I seemed to sit by and watch as my youth, my freedom, and any beauty I might have had drifted--no, galloped--away. In their place is something infinitely more precious and irreplaceable, that I know. But there is an adjustment to be made, and make it I will in the coming year.
Here's hoping that 2010 kicks 2009's ass.