I've never been a giant fan of New Years; I habitually experience a juxtaposition of anxiety and anti-climactic ennui around the end of every December and it lingers through the end of the year and into the start of the next. This year, I upped the ante by blanketing all that old jazz with the hectic haze of moving stress and a new job with erratic hours. For the first time, I had the experience of working on both New Years eve and New Years Day; I hate to admit how bitter and left out of life I've been feeling lately, knowing that everyone else is out having fun while I'm at the office.
On the last day of 2013, I made my way to meet my friends and Josh at a quiet house party; I arrived just after 11:30, sober, cold and with a headache. We chatted, ate excellent snacks and had several dance parties in the kitchen. We missed the the official countdown to midnight by about six minutes; Josh and I kissed and there were party-poppers and mimosas. Our friend shared her little black hat with us and it lead to some fantastic photos (there I am, attempting to wink).
