In my mind's eye, I thought it might be appropriate to make a long-winded, big deal of an emotionally saturated reflection entry for this year. I did, afterall, accomplish much. But instead, you're getting a bullet point list and some questionable metaphors. Could you really ask for anymore? I don't even think so.
I became so healthy as a vegetarian, my lung capacity has DOUBLED since this day one year ago.
I wrote a book, a script, and honed my writing skills by 1,000% after participating in writers group(s).
I crocheted so much, and took on so many new projects, big and small, this year - I can hardly believe it.
I even made some of my own patterns.
I went to school, albeit only a semester, but I went.
I left a job. I got let go from a job. I got a new job. I am happy.
I quit drinking.
I got my Etsy store up and running - properly.
I became productive, creative, poor, rich, poor again, insightful, humbled, enlightened, humbled again. I became healthy, I did acupuncture, I left my comfort zone to learn and give. I gained friends. I lost them.
In the past, when I've looked out onto a new year, my thoughts have always been pretty much the same. I felt as though I was looking out onto a blank canvas, something white and clean, perfect and waiting to be painted on. Something untouched, full of promise. Patient and worried, I would normally look out onto that canvas, reluctantly start sketching, only to erase it all, and walk away from it. Too scared of ruining it to actually do anything with it.
But now, in this moment, looking out at 2013, I see more than that. I see a canvas, covered in lines and scratches. Splotches of paint, and covered in glitter and duct tape, with rainbows of swatches everywhere around it. The sound of coffee brewing and music playing beside it, paintbrushes in all shapes and sizes already wet with water and paint, being thrown down onto it without any real pattern, but a picture forming. I see 2012 has left it's beautiful mark, and it's up to 2013 to make those plans, sketches, swatches, ideas and inspiration into a masterpiece.
So, instead of looking at the clock striking midnight as being ushered onto a new canvas, I'm going to see it as something much more. I'm going to see it as a canvas just getting bigger. As a crudely taped canvas being crudely glued to the old one, as if to say "THIS IS GOING TO BE MESSY AND BEAUTIFUL," and hopefully without even missing a beat, and I can keep throwing paint and glitter onto my beautiful mess of a canvas the way I have been for the last week, the last month, and of course, for all of last year.
I just might use some different colors.