I’m thinking that I might just delay New Years. Just for a couple days, until I can have a night off. So then I could have a drink or two without immediately falling asleep.
It’s been a weird year altogether. Everyone seems to be stuck in this idea that it was overwhelmingly awful and they won’t miss 2016 at all, but it’s hard to pin down exactly why.
Yes, a lot of famous people died. This guy made a Sgt Peppers collage out of all the people we lost (including Lemmy, who only just missed out on the 2016 headcount):
Still, it’s not unusual for people to die. It’s not unusual for famous people to die. Perhaps I’m just more aware of it this year because the people who surround me – a generation now in our 30s and 40s – are beginning to lose more of the celebrities who we grew up adoring. 2016 is only more tragic because it was our tragedy. But, you know what? It was this kid’s tragedy too, and I think his year was tougher than ours…
… I just can’t look at that image without thinking about how lucky I am. Yes, it makes me sad. Yes, it makes me angry at the motherfuckers who bomb children. But mostly it reminds me not to whine about my life. Because I’m warm, and fed. I have a husband who loves me, and who is physically fit. I can pursue my hobbies. I can live my full life without fear of repression. And nobody is bombing us.
Okay. 2016 wasn’t really that bad for most of us, was it?