I sit here today in this coffee shop assessing the carnage that 2018 has left in its wake. I try to start each year out with the best intentions, and I rarely think that a entire year is just bullshit. Don’t get me wrong, there were a few bright spots in this one and I can count them. I am thankful for them. Otherwise, I might be playing my ukulele on a street corner, in a aggressive, agitated manner singing lyrics to off color themes that somehow suit only me. Just like a true musician.
My New Year’s resolution have typically been to lower my standards. I don’t believe it is possible to lower my standards to depths that have never been attempted in order to ring in 2019. My standards are presently at rock bottom, and to get any lower I will need to dig a hole. Seems too optimistic for me to pick up a shovel to start digging today, but I think I will keep the shovel close by, just in case.
2018 has hurt my feelings, my spirit, and I think it even called me fat. 2018 has been that toxic friend that came to my house hungry, ate my cooking and then told me that my food gave them explosive diarrhea all over my bathroom. The aftermath to be cleaned by me. I am still scrubbing, but I just cannot get ride of the stench of 2018. Not yet.
As grateful and thankful as I want to be, I feel I need to send 2018 off in a manner that is fitting, at least to me. 2018 has left me with a bad attitude and a unrelenting right eye twitch. I am presently seeking a level of Botox that has never been tried in order to quiet my twitch and any or all emotional responses that 2018 tends to evoke. I am hoping that if I happen to shed a tear in public again, all witnesses would think that it is just due to my inability to blink in a manner that seems consistent. I would like the Botox to give the impression to others that I am relaxed, calm, composed, happy or dead. Whatever works.
With my Botox doing its job, I will be there tonight counting down the end of 2018, maybe a little too loudly. I will not try to dwell in the events of 2018 that shaped this year. I am not sure 2018 taught me any good lessons. Actually, 2018 reminds of a grade school gym teacher that liked playing dodge ball a little too much with the kids and I was the slow one with the welts. However, I’ll be there tonight anxiously watching your demise. I will be the one with a drink in one hand and a shovel in the other, just in case.