Apocalypse Now

"Enough that God my father knows: Nothing this faith can dim.
He gives the very best to those who leave the choice with him" - Hudson Taylor

I've never been afraid of a new year, but as 2010 draws to a much-needed end, I find that I am verging on the terrified, and not because of this ludicrous 2012 apocalypse bollocks - if only it were that easy to be released from your 20-year house mortgage with subprime rates.

My friends are telling me that your 20's are the most tumultuous time of your life, where all kinds of shit happen to you as you carve out a life for yourself, a life you don't know you want. So far, they've been right about the tumult and the shit.

What has been especially hard about this year has been the disappointment. The towering kind of disappointment that played out at an award ceremony early this year. Or the quiet, soul-shuddering type of disappointment that only betrayal makes possible. Or the comic type of disappointment, writ large in the form of squandered getaways and delayed flights. Or the million little kinds of disappointments that abrade and chafe as the months fall by the wayside, leaving you raw to the threat of next year.

When these things happen, the first instinct is always to protest - But I've worked so hard or But I've done everything right. Which is futile, really. When the universe has a fatwa out on you, it doesn't give a shit if you've crossed your T's and dotted your I's.

2010 has kind of chipped away at me, working on the grooves left by the previous years, and as I survey 2011, I find that I am worn down. Maybe this is how it starts - young professionals, declaring themselves burnt out or simply burnt by life, who then take off to Third World countries to "find themselves" on other people's coin. I'd like to say that I'm made of sterner Republican stuff, but today, as what is left of my 2010 is ragged and frayed, I don't trust myself to tempt fate. (The fact that I'd started the year more Democrat then Republican should say something).

Maybe it's too much to ask, but I'd like 2011 to be as boring as possible - so uninteresting and routine that someone else would be driven to tears, every day virtually identical and blending into one another.

Of course, now that this wish has been articulated, I've virtually ensured that I've brought forward the 2012 apocalypse by a year. Time to max out your credit cards, folks.