Last year's chronicles.

I wrote a wedding guest post yesterday for Indieberries. Well, it was supposed to be a wedding post, but as it already happened once before I ended up talking about vampires. Which was probably just as well, because who are we kidding?? I know nothing about weddings. Though no expert either, vampires just seemed a safer choice of topic and I do know my Eric from my Edward (thanks, nieces!).

So either way it seemed that some people liked my story and one commentator was looking forward to reading more vampire stories. Which I hate to disappoint. Then again I think I have written all about them that I can, because – you may need to cover your eyes, eager vampire stories fan – since an overexposure to pouting Stefan, I am actually slightly over vampires. Dig here and here and here if you want to know my former insights on the eternal matter.

Today however I still have some thoughts about my birthday and my previous year to share. I guess most people start reminiscing around their birthdays in one way or another. Some before, some after – once the pressure is off you and realize it is not much different to be 28 34 than it was to be 27 33.  I was reading some old posts again and remembered that though my birthday itself was properly celebrated last year, I was not in a good space. I was in a relationship that was completely wrong and if I care to admit it made me somehow miserable. For an odd reason or another I accepted this misery as part of an adult relationship. As much as I tried to tell myself they could, but pink bubbly and filet in cappuccino truffle sauce (a phrase I never use is in order: OMG!) at the Pot Luck Club couldn't make up for the fact that we were arguing all throughout my birthday dinner.  Things ended shortly after, but I still felt off. A layer too little…out of my skin… uncomfortable in my own skin…and all of them at once.

In June I had my long booked appointment with Rod Suskin. The last time I had spent money on revealing the future and explaining the past I was in a dark square off Bourbon Street in New Orleans. Equally drunk on Bloody Marys and spooky vampire stories (see, dear vampire stories fan, I can always sneak one in for you!) it made complete sense to pay an old witch to tell me about burning towers, the sun, the moon, and the knight in shining armour following them. The next morning I washed the prophecies and the hangover down with two aspirin and forgot all about it. The only reason why I would spend money on a session with Rod as expensive as pink bubbly and filets in cappuccino truffle sauce for a party of twenty was the combined effort of my aunt and uncle. Two people who I trust completely, who cannot be more different, but who were both utterly convinced by his skills. So was I after the session. I still don’t know if I believe in astrology, but I believed him when I told me that I was okay the way I am and that my life choices are on the right track. He told me to stop worrying. He told me that everything was going to be fine. Wouldn't you rather believe someone who tells you that you can have everything you ever wanted and maybe make it a self-fulfilling prophecy than a silly, little voice that advises to be sensible and that you can’t always get what you want? Maybe I was naïve, but I thought I should at least try.

So I tried and before you hold your breath, no, my life did not just become magically better overnight. I still had a difficult year 2012, where things just felt harder all the time than I thought they should feel. The year culminated in a trip back home, which turned out less than exciting and a New Year’s party with an about to be divorced couple. When the first day of the new year dawned I was not only hangover, but had no voice to yell at them to shut up and stop arguing. I was convinced this year was going to be equally bad as the last with such a way to start it. It wasn't.

Somehow, something in me had shifted after this trip and I found a non-New Year’s New Year’s resolution when I came back to Cape Town. I think without knowing the words, I took Rumi to heart when he wrote: Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.

Mind you, most of the days I still fail miserably at changing into the person I ultimately like to be. I worry and the worry makes me bitchy and confused and indecisive. Some days however I don’t fail quite as much and just with these few days and the good intention, life has become somehow easy. Or at least a little less hard. I might not be a glass if half full kind of person yet, but at least I have learned that even half a glass of wine is better than no wine at all and that’s good enough reason to keep trying.