Tuesday 31 December 2013

OK, we're up. 2013 is almost done, and it's a fair bet that you haven't achieved all the things that you intended this time last year. It's not all bad: new stuff will have come out of left field that makes life a bit better - you finally caught up with that boxset on Netflix that everyone else has been wittering on about for years, you found a place that still sells fizzy cola bottles (you know, the decent actually fizzy ones), that kiss was wonderful. The second one was even better. And it all happens again, starting tomorrow. 

And that's terrifying, isn't it? Obviously, 2013 had its good points (no, honestly, it did - look at the feed of pretty much anybody on your facebook right now: apparently there was a really funny meme from Buzzfeed sometime in March), but there were clearly some devastatingly upsetting moments over the last twelves months. Now, in real terms, that isn't going to change in any perceptible sense anytime soon. 2014 will be just as challenging as 2013. But with much less food banks. 

This isn't meant to sound depressing. Well, no more than how I usually sound. But it can be instructive to acknowledge the darkness, and find for yourself where the light may be found. So, the usual thing is to make the change starting with yourself (Ghandi had a very good bumper sticker about exactly that). This, in theory, is what New Year resolutions are all about. Give up this. Start doing that. Stop buying e-cigarettes from Poundland (you don't want to be the focus of the news story when the first e-cig rip-off blows up in someone's face). 

The problem, though, with New Year's is that it's so abritary. It doesn't actually mean anything. Since time itself doesn't actually exist (don't tell Steven Moffat that, however, otherwise that will be the plot of season 8 of Doctor Who, as well as the backstory of Doctor Who back in 1977), we can accept that NYE falling on December 31st is vastly unimportant. We already know that Jesus wasn't even born on his own birthday, and it's worth remembering that nothing changes tonight: the clocks don't go back, and the solstice doesn't kick in. Tomorrow might be another year, but it's also just a Wednesday. The middle of the week. What disillusioned office workers usually refer to as 'hump day.' 

Once you realise this,  it can deliver you free of a great deal of pressure. There is nothing special about tonight. You are not contractually obliged to stay up til the ball drops (even if Miley Cyrus is hanging from it). You don't need to have anyone to kiss at twelve. And there is absolutely no pressure to make a great sea change in your life and attitude starting tomorrow morning. Apart from anything else, there's still a tin of Roses and two decent bottles of wine to be finished off from the holidays, and if you're going to let them go to waste just because you are seeking to improve your life, then you have somewhat elegantly missed the point of what 'improving your life' actually means. 

This is not to say that seeking to improve is not a desirable pursuit. Sure, by all means, give up smoking. Ask that guy out / finally dump him. Eat more fruit. Take up rockclimbing/learning Mandarin/burlesque/a combination of all three. But here's the thing. It doesn't have to happen tomorrow. And indeed, if it gets to, say, April, and you haven't managed to get round to it, that's not a new year resolution that you failed at, because it's not about some arbitrary date in the calender. If you get to April, and there's still something that you need to start striving for, something that gives you energy and passion to push yourself forward, well, that's brilliant. Because, as you might have already worked out, tomorrow won't be the only Wednesday of 2014. There are plenty more hump days to come. 

Happy New Year. 

5 .. 4 ... 3 ... 2 ...

I'm trying to write a review of the year. I'm doing something for the NVT New Year's Eve party, and I've decided to try and do a retrospective of the last twelve months. I'm banking on most of the party goers being far too drunk by the time I get to my bit. I always think that New Year's Eve is a very odd night, anyway. For instance, last Saturday I'd come home after seeing a show, and was settling down for the night, watching the odd TV adaptation of Bag Of Bones. I'd just this week read the book, after having had it on my shelf for ten years. The edition I have was handed to me by Stephen King himself, after having signed it, at one of his very few UK appearances. But anyway, I'm getting off the subject here. That happens a lot, I'm really going to have to reel it in. I was at home, being reasonably unimpressed by Bag Of Bones, when a friend called up and got me out drinking, which ended up in a local nightclub. This almost never happens, but the reason I mention it was on that night, like most other nights, time was fluid - it got to about three in the morning without anyone really paying attention. New Year's Eve, however .. What the hell is it about New Year's Eve? Time slows to a crawl. And it doesn't matter if you're with good company. Such is the pressure about the midnight hour, that EVERYTHING becomes about the midnight hour, and you find yourself glancing at the clock, only to discover that it isn't yet nine.

Having said that, time is running out for me, and I still don't really know what it is I'm going to be talking about to tonight. I'm not even going to have a chance to think about what new year resolutions I'm going to attempt to break this month. I don't think I'm going to attempt too much in the way of resolution, since it can always get far too depressing when you stumble - or, as it's more commonly referred to, fail. I am writing more at the moment than I was at the beginning of the year, and it would be good to keep that momentum going. This is always a dangerous time in the year, because I have a job that actually does give me the full two weeks off for Christmas. (don't worry, I pay for it with my soul and hope). The problem behind that is, at this point in proceedings, I'm beginning to actually feel human again, and feel like I have time for a coffee and for a spot of writing. Which, of course, at this exact time, I do. It's when we shunt into next week (and next year) that my mood will down-shift into the grimace where it truly belongs.

Not that there isn't stuff to look forward to. There's a couple of writing deadlines looming (as I've mentioned before, there are few things more valuable to a writer than looming deadlines), and I have a double shift of improvisation workshops coming up. The Iron Clad Improv, which started up in October, begins again on January 6th at the Duke Box Theatre, and I'm doing a short series of long form improv classes at the New Venture Theatre for three Mondays, starting on the 7th.

The reason for these long form classes, apart from the actual just-having-fun aspect of them all, is for my first major project of 2013 ... For the Brighton Festival Fringe, I'm going to be producing an entirely improvised play: that's a production in which my cast, for five nights, will rock up to the stage with absolutely no script, no plot and no idea of what play they're about to put on. It could be terrible. It could be magical. Much like the next 365 days.

Happy New Year ..