Ah, 2013. The year I turned 40. The year
that saw too many good people leave us. The year that tried to beat me, but
failed. In your face 2013. The year that saw my work in print, a more
consistent work ethic, and the very real possibility that I am a writer. Good
shit.
I didn’t think turning 40 mattered much. It
doesn’t, not in the grand scheme of things, but it mattered more to me than I’d
thought it would. It gave me perspective (“HOLY FUCK! HOW AM I STILL ALIVE LET
ALONE 40! WELL DONE ME!”), which is a good thing, trust me. A lot of the pointless bollocks that
endlessly haunts me seemed to disappear into the ether (not all of it but, hey,
all improvements are welcome) and I remembered that I am, in fact, a kickass motherfucker
with no time for bullshit, bitches. Depression really gave its best shot at
throwing my shit off but it failed. Bite me, mental shitdickery. This has been
one of the roughest years in that respect for a long time, I’d maybe even throw
an “intense” in there. That said, I WON! While I may have wallowed at times –
sometimes it’s so tiring that you have to, mending takes time – I’ve worked,
seen shit through and achieved stuff. Actual STUFF. It may not be the stuff of
legend but from the tiny acorn the mighty oak doth grow, my friends. I’ve been
published (by the fabulous Fox Spirit http://www.foxspirit.co.uk),
I’ve read my work in public (check it out right here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CfVTwL9TlWw&feature=player_embedded), I’ve travelled on my own without getting myself into a
state about it, I've got a website and business cards (see the former here http://www.chloeyates.com/home.html) and I’ve refused to let the monkey on my back suck the joy out
of it all. Fuck you, monkey. You might think you’re clever coming back with a
vengeance this year but I’M SPARTACUS! Anxiety, I’ve sorted you out too.
Magnesium and B6 is the bomb. Try it if that old bellyaching gobshite, Mr A,
visits you regularly. From someone who’s dealt with him since she was eight years
old, it’s a fricking Christmas miracle. A big thank you to my dearest Amy, who has always been there when I needed an ear. She is the best sister I could have acquired for myself and I love her without condition.
My friends, Adele and Kate (the Captain and
the Prof) have helped to keep me afloat with their belief and encouragement. I
can’t thank either of them enough for being as excellent as they are and for
being my friends. I love them both more than they'll ever know. To all the Skulk, some I met in Derby and others through FB,
you rock it hard. And they will know us by the trail of our dead.
I became an Auntie this year (a natural
Auntie, I already have two nieces and a nephew on Mr Y’s side, plus my Amy's sweeties who might as well be my blood, who are all totally splendid themselves) and I can’t lie – Austin Otis van de Peer is BEAUTIFUL!
I’m a very proud Auntie. I'm excited to see how he turns out. (Although I'm sorry that of all the things he could have inherited from me, he inherited the larynx problem.)
Mr Y and I have been together for 21 years
this year and I love him more now than ever – no cliché bullshit either, I do.
He’s got a patient streak 8 fathoms deep and his habit of being oblivious
actually works in my favour the majority of the time. I don’t want complicated,
I don’t want arrogant ponce, I want exactly what I’ve got – laidback and most
excellent. Plus he is still as foxy as fuck!
2014. I’d wonder what’s in store, but
that’s a waste of time because it’s coming no matter what. I’m just going to
dust myself down, stop
fondling my balls and, like the Prof says, BE AUDACIOUS – because there’s no
time to do anything else. No time for fear or for uncertainty. Balls out, baby,
balls fricking OUT! RARRRRRR!
