Belated, very random New Year ramblings.
* 2004 was, oh wait, what, I'm not depressed any longer?; 2005 was more... realistic. Learning to accept the still ongoing mood swings and bouts of depression, and realise that this doesn't have to be the end of the world. That they are part of me; that they will, and do pass, that I can be strong enough and secure enough in myself and make it through. Learn to maintain a perspective regardless. Continue to gain a better sense of myself, of who I am.
* My only sort-of resolution last New Year was, I'd like to re-connect with my artistic side; i can't (or don't want to) believe it's vanished altogether.
Surprisingly, I actually managed to do this, to some extent, although not in the way I thought I would. I love my digital camera, and I love the possibilities of photography [er. that snapping-of-pictures thing I do]. I think it's actually good for me, or is something I need at the moment, to look not only inside (which was what I did with ceramics, almost exclusively, and which was perhaps the reason why I'd come to a dead end) but outside myself, try to define my view of the world. I want to learn more, get better at this.
* Sort-of resolutions for 2006.
Trivial, but important: If the weather allows it, I will pick up my morning runs again next week and re-arrange my sleeping patterns accordingly again.
Dear self, get your ass out before it gets any fatter. Also, it wouldn't hurt to get out more, go on walks, that kind of thing.
The actually doable resolution. Will start with Turkish classes again this spring. That shouldn't be too hard.
Slightly more vague resolution: actually read some of the art-books I keep buying. It's downright embarrassing to own so many books I've only browsed through.
The big resolution that I'm deadly scared of. The job situation. Try to at least think about it, update/re-write your resume, think about what you could do. Be confident. Start February.
2005 nothing major or important happened, as such things are normally understood, except the ongoing process of learning to deal with depression, or more to the point, myself, which is important to myself, but probably sounds horribly self-indulgent and boring to anyone else. No births, deaths, same job, same apartment. Still no falling in love, no relationship, but I think I might have been getting slightly better at being friends with people.
Other minor things that are important only to me.
* Things I've been putting off for too long. Found a new eye doctor and got new contacts in the wake of the having scratched my eye-ball
disaster nuisance which wrecked pretty much my whole summer and left me with a profound sense of gratitude for the existence of contacts and the fact that I'm not allergic to them. More importantly, made it to the dentist, again not entirely unprompted, but I'm still kind of proud of myself for over-coming the panic/phobia. And relieved. A whole lot of relieved. Because after years of not-going I actually expected a lot worse than two old fillings that needed to be replaced and one new cavity.
* I didn't regret finally having let go of university in 2004. In fact I've been starting to think it was a good step to take, but that's material for another entry.
* It's perhaps tell-tale of how my life and perception of it has changed over the last two years, that I finally fell out of love and fangirldom with NIN. And just as I was whining about the lack of interesting new music in my life, I was dragged into Crossing the Bridge [see above, minuscully improved social skills] and now I have Sezen Aksu and Aynur and a few other cds, and a vast realm of music to foray into.
I also picked up 20th century classics 1 & 2 at work, which should give me some inspiration for classical music.
* Books... meh. A lot of re-reading, a lot of more or less negligible stuff. The only really worthwhile thing was starting with Russian authors, Tolstoi, Dostojewski, Gogol... I intend to continue this year, once I've found & reassembled my brain. (On an entirely unrelated note, but I'm in a rambly mood... It's interesting that many people seem to read Dostojewski at a much younger age while he never bleeped on my radar at that time. At 17, 18 I was reading E.M. Forster, who I would still say was perhaps the author who had the strongest influence on me. And I took the complete works of Oscar Wilde on the Maturareise and was mocked for reading it on the beach.