"2012 needs to just end already."
"This has been the worst year ever."
"2013 can't possibly be as bad as 2012."
And on and on and on. It seems that a lot of people felt that 2012 was a brutal bitch who punched them in the face repeatedly. I had to fight the urge to prove that I could win the Misery War.
If you've been around, you know. If you haven't, so what? What difference does it make that I paid my dues and then I paid it again and then I paid it some more? Let's just throw some confetti in the air and call it a pity party and waaaah. waaaah. waaaaaaaaaah.
At the end of it all, none of it matters. It wasn't the calendar or the date or the number 2012 that was devastating and hurtful and mean. It was the things that happened here and there. It was the sequence of completely unrelated events that piled on and on ...
... and that danced an intricate ballet with The Other Things.
The new friends cherished.
The old friends enjoyed.
The magic discovered.
The eyes that knew where to find it.
The fun frozen.
And the fun picked.
The life lived out loud.
The life lived louder.
The lessons learned silently.
The questions asked loudly.
The joy delivered.
The curiousity satisfied.
And the smiles for miles.
2012 had ... its moments. They weren't all good, but there were good ones to be found. I just had to go looking.
I could fight the Misery War, or I can win the Joy War.
I choose joy.