Just after midnight, but still nearly 14 hours before my officially birth time – on the other side of the world, because it’s not even January 14th some wheres.
If 365 days ago someone had told me half of what happened in my life in 2017 was going to happen, truthfully I would never have believed it. And 365 days from now when I reflect back on 2018, I cannot wait to see how life has yet again surprised, defied, and molded me.
Last year I learned that absolutely anything, literally anything, is possible. That my plans are nothing more than seeds that life actually uses to manifest my dreams, hopes, desires, fears, and all. That failing to plan is sometimes the best fucking idea ever. That while hoping for the best is awesome and all, expect the worse and leave room for less disappointment. That when you least expect it and without notice the people who genuinely love and care for you will show up – hugely. That family and love are not always predetermined at birth or by blood – that I only navigate this thing called life solo if I choose to, however I do not have to. That opportunities are limitless and I have just begun to scratch the surface.
2017 had epically broad strokes, with everything from emergency hospital admittance to relocating overseas and everything in between from pulling off New Zealand in less than a month to welcoming a new niece in those final few weeks. I feel like I learned so much in just a year. Just a year, 365 days of conceivably almost every kind of high and low imaginable – that I survived and thrived off of nevertheless.
This is always my official new start, when my new year begins, January 14. 42 I have no idea what you have in store for me. Per usual, I have some ideas. Some are far fetched perhaps, many are reoccurring wishes, while others are fresh and most will likely happen with or without my acquiescence.
Thank you 2017 for lots of fundamentals and foundation.
2018 let’s cultivate the fuck of ‘em!