I think my least favourite thing about January is everything. You're completely skint after Christmas, the weather is rubbish, it's dark all the time, you're still months away from summer and you feel down for all of these reasons. Then you turn on the radio and you hear, in amongst the stories of war, crime and hate, that this really is the most depressing time of the year, officially. Just in case you hadn't worked it out for yourself some clever so-and-so employed a bunch of scientists to do some research and prove it. Thanks lads, much appreciated. January is bleak, through and through.
Yesterday I had a particularly low day. I spent most of it sitting around trying to force my tired eyes to look at the screen and get motivated enough to concentrate on what I needed to do, with work piling up around me quicker than I could say "Man, what happened to the holidays?" It wasn't easy. Financial worries and the wind whipping around the house made me think that maybe the bears have it right with their crazy hibernation plans. Yesterday was a true January day.
Today, things are different. I overslept but woke up thinking "who cares?" I went to the fridge and found it full of food. I checked my emails and there were loads, every single one of them bringing good things and nice ideas. I've drawn the shutters over the windows, refusing to believe it's anything other than summers peak outside and things are disappearing from my to do list in a pleasing correlation with friendly emails dropping into my inbox.
Next week will bring an announcement of a new band and an exciting tour, a couple of interesting meetings, seeing friends I haven't seen since last year and my final full week in the UK before I head off to New York the following Thursday. Obviously nobody cares about any of these things except possibly the first one, but when did I ever say this blog was anything more than self-indulgent ramblings?
Currently listening to: Manchester Orchestra