This post was supposed to be inflicted upon you on Nov 30, 2009. One month of cold storage has effectively killed the humour. Perhaps a bit of brandy will revive it? So go down one, come back, sit down and commence the process of self-flagellation.
A year is such an aptly round period, isn't it? For anything. Especially for irresponsibility. You can drop out of college for a year. You can do what you always dreamt of doing. You needn't be stifled by society's and your parents' expectations. A year is a legitimate period to ask for yourself before you become yet another cog in the capitalist wheel. You can backpack around Europe for a year, you can write the magnum opus you're convinced lies within, you can do theatre for a year. Heck, you can even stay at home and watch TV for a year! It's all cool, since it's just for a year.
So. As I was saying, its been a year. A year since we last met and exchanged online telepathic pleasanteries. A year since you last visited this blog and went, "Oh, fuck! Why? Why? WHY????". A year since I last angsted online and spewed out my particularly self depreciating brand of humour. Probably a year since you visited this site, apart from that one visit the only purpose of which is to prod a corpse gingerly with one's toe to make sure that it is well and truly dead.
A year. Welcome back.
A lot has happened this past year. I've passed out of college. My sense of humour has taken a hit, like a bug that's been stamped upon by the cruel feet of Lady Work. A bug who's valiantly making cyclical motions with all its limbs but who's most evidently in the throes of the Grim Reaper. It will have to be resurrected, new life injected into it so that it can continue to terrorise those souls unfortunate enough to wander into this cursed corner of cyberspace.
Also, pR has returned to blogging in full force. As Shelley said, "If winter comes, can spring be far behind?" Ok. In this case, though meteorologically incorrect, "If spring comes, can winter be far behind?"
Wish you a Happy Wintry New Year.