This year in ponders

At some point earlier this evening I had a momentary panic about the date, for I was quite sure it was next year. Wishful thinking perhaps, but I can only assume that the whole thing about time slowing down when you're busy is true, for this week is incredibly long and I've done more this week than I've done in the last 6 months!

I do believe time does literally slow down but that's something my brain doesn't understand.

So I got to thinking back over this year and what it's been. According to the bible, the year 2008, or 8 to make things simpler, is a year of new beginnings and rebirth. 8 being the number after 7, which is how long everything's supposed to take to complete a cycle, based on the 7 days in a week thing and an awful lot of excitement about the number 7. So, 2007 saw the end of the cycle begun in 2000 and 2008 was the beginning of the next cycle.

Brilliant.

So we can look forward to another 6 years of economic downturn and the media being idiotic. Myself, I think I'd like to opt out of life until 2015 and live in a commune somewhere, eating carrots and seeing if I suit dreadlocks.

The economy:

not that great, really. I don't fully understand it all because it's imaginary money. Somebody somewhere said "actually, I'm not going to give you any more "money" because you might not pay it back" and the whole world ground to a halt. Prior to this, everyone just lent pretend money happily in the belief that it would be virtually returned to them later and all was happy, then suddenly they didn't. And everything collapsed. Why they couldn't say "only joking, of course I'll transfer some not-there money to you and look, we'll say you owe me it and they owe you that and we'll all get some new cars".

Now everything's shutting down. Except it's not. It's not the good stuff. It's the kind of rubbish companies that have been winging along on the happy economy. It's not stuff we want or need. It's the dregs. It's the shops that exist purely because they always have. Nostalgia is not a reason to keep something. This here blog post says some of what I want to say, I shall link it instead of badly paraphrasing.

And banks, I don't care. We don't need a million of them. They're all greedy and provide a non-service. Even Nationwide want all their cash back. Standard Life aren't passing on much of the interest rate cut, because hey, the customer can subsidise them.

The loss of jobs is indeed sad, and terrible for those it is happening to, but, erm, that's what happens in a recession. Never mind, only 6 more years!

The Media:

Well, the biggest story of the year has to be the Russell Brand/Jonathan Ross/Andrew Sachs debacle. Whataloadofnonsense. Yes, it was cruel and I don't consider what they did to be funny, but Andrew Sachs had agreed the broadcast could go ahead. So he wasn't that offended. Who are the Daily Mail to be offended on his behalf? Utter nonsense.

The other piece of utter stupidity was the fraca about the turning on of the LHC. Not that many people understood it but the media focussed on the whole idea that this was the end of the world and ignored the actual science. Noone got excited about the implications, apart from that guy from D:Ream who everyone fancied for a day (Brian Cox, remember? no?). It was really important. It could have answered the fundamental questions about life. But it got turned on, we didn't die, it got broken and everyone thought it was quite amusing. It's still exciting and will still be mega when it gets turned on again next year? the year after? sometime? And we still won't die.

People have died, they always do. I'm not even going to try to suggest which deaths were significant, every death is important to someone. Other people were born: 2 little girls and 1 little boy arrived in my little circle, all perfect, all gorgeous and all most welcome.

Myself:

My own year hasn't been all that eventful although I have mostly been a rather rubbish friend. 2009 is going to be the year I stop saying sorry: no more apologising for things I haven't done, and no more doing things I have to apologise for.
The nicest thing that I do appreciate this year knows it.

The other stuff that mattered this year: I proudly and exhaustedly watched my two little guys grow from toddling babies into competent little boys, I turned vegetarian, and I got an iPhone. And I've been 33.

Why Jeremy Hardy is funnier than me

Tonight I saw Jeremy Hardy, which was a very unusual thing to happen in Kirkcaldy, but it happened all the same and he was marvellous. He looks, bizarrely, a bit like Holly Johnson, with a hint of Dale Winton from the side, then he does his big grin and he looks just like himself and rather gorgeous. Which is not a term applied to either of the aforementioned. He does have the best grin ever.

Ah yes, relevance: he was extremely funny, and very entertaining for two hours. Hurrah for value for money. I saw him, I think, two years ago and he was very good then. He is topical and outspoken without being remotely offensive. Clever, witty act. I'm cringing a bit on his observations of bloggers and their sheer inanity, but I did laugh and laugh.

My inner child would like to protest: I have made some genuine friends that have taken a liking to the drivel I write online.

I'm feeling a little blooo however.

For one, I may have had an evening out, but noone told my hair. So when it came to time to get ready and I tried to coax it into submission, it mutinied. stating "Whoa, woman, are you a trained hairdresser? No, I thought not. What are you doing? Why are you disturbing my lank tangled ways? Do you think this is 2005 or something? Get a grip and get back in that kitchen" so it took me out looking a bit bedraggled. The right side relented and went into quite cute curls, the left side simply wasn't up for a night out and did its best to achieve the Real Bedhead look (ie, the "goodness you need a shower" look).

Secondly, I hate being 33. I have hated being 33 since approximately one week before my 33rd birthday, compounded by actually having flu on said birthday. It's a rubbish age, it's such a nothing age, it's not old, it's not young. This is not a new discovery, but listening to Jeremy Hardy, who expresses the things I'd like to be able to think, I feel extremely young and inexperienced. Yet I find young people an alien species, they make me feel past it and shrivelled. It's very disconcerting feeling like a small child most of the time interspersed with feeling like I should be pensioned off.

33 doesn't even know what it is, is it early or mid thirties? At least with 34 you know you are definitely talking mid thirties, which is more definable.

To clarify: Early 30s are 30, 31, 32; mid thirties, 34, 35, 36; late thirties, 37, 38, 39. Where does 33 go? 33 is neither early nor mid, it doesn't know where it is, clinging to the youthfulness of 30, or maturely accepting the inevitability of 35. No, it swings back and forth between the two, being nothing. 34 is nearly 35, which is something, 33 is nothing other than nearly 34. What use is that? 23 has the same problems but 23 is undoubtedly young. By 43 I hope to have grown up and may even be able to talk to people. It's just stupid limbo age, 33. Grr. Roll on January.

Talking of which, winter is arriving, I love it :-)