I’ve been thinking all this week about 2011, what it meant to the culture, to me personally. The answers don’t come easily.
2011 was, for your humble host, simultaneously the best and worst year. Professionally, I started writing for other outlets, made some tiny moves in my career doing new work I’m good at and care about, made a little more money, started RadioPFG and PFGX [updates may have been irregular, but hey, it was started]. By year’s end proper I should have a laptop that will actually take huge swaths out of the work making these things requires. [I love Ol’ Wheezy but there are cell phones with faster processors by now]. There really isn’t a whole lot to complain about on that side of the equation.
Personally, 2011 was….less good. I danced and sang and laughed and read good books and listened to good music and actually saw a doctor for once and got a driver’s permit. I also fought viciously with family, went months without speaking to people I love the most and neglected my most important relationships to the breaking points. Even after losing so much, I can’t tell you that I know how to fix any of it, or if I even can. Many months of this year felt like living in a Drake song, syrupy bass and echoey falsetto bludgeoning me into a numbed and dazed stupor.
But I’m trying, friends. I’m trying to figure it out. I’m a slow and scared and stupid man who usually learns what I need to far later than acceptable, and pushed far too many people I love away when I should have been honest with them. But I’m trying. Just wait for me, please. I’ll make you so impatient and frustrated, but I’ll never let you down, I promise you that.