The relativity of shit
Today a good friend declared, as though announcing the day’s weather, “2012 has really been a shit year for you”
And I would be hard-pressed to disagree. But the dead-pan look which she gave me, and the matter-of-fact way that she said it, amused and saddened me. I thought 2011 was bad, but 2012 really takes the cake. Of course, to call it shit is still subjective, and in the grand scheme of things it probably isn’t all tragic. But in terms of the sheer quantity of shit moments – all the episodes of utter bleakness, disappointment, depression which is bordering on nervous breakdown, and then some unthinkably ridiculous occurrences, I must say that the year 2012 trumps the other twenty six, hands down.
It feels like the end of an era – people leaving me behind, pets dying (no really), possibly impending house-moving, even random electronics which I own are simultaneously breaking down. Things have been, and are seemingly going through the motion of falling apart. The death of familiarity. An unseen hand is sticking itself into my life and giving it a good rumbling. And all the little creatures hiding in safe crevices are scurrying out looking for new shelters.
Ah well. Hopefully by the same time next year I will look back at all this and laugh.