It occurs to me that, as ancient Mayan prophecies foretold, we are in an age which is perilously balanced between the known and unknown, the waxed and Kardashian-hirsute. Doomsday is supposed to be next Friday (or Next Friday, I think), so just in case this really is the end of the world as we know it, I feel fine in saying that 2012 was a banner year for yours truly.
Think about it: I got to try out for "Jeopardy" (and travel to one of the most beautiful cities on earth, New Orleans, to do it), and whatever happens with that (which, assuming the world ends on the 21st, is nothing), I still came out pretty far ahead of where I'd come out before when I did the online test. I remained gainfully employed (always a plus since the two-for-one job losses of '10), and I continued to humbly be the best gosh-darn Uncle Bubba to my lil sweet niece.
I didn't write that novel, not yet anyway. Kinda hurt that my computer died in late June (or that I murdered it...you know, it's a matter of semantics). But I read a lot of really good ones, after steering clear of novels more or less as an after-effect of reading so much of them in college. Michael Chabon hit one out of the park with Telegraph Avenue, and I started really getting into Graham Greene and Walker Percy. If 2013 comes to pass, I might just tackle the Great White Whale of American literature...David Lee Roth's Crazy From the Heat. Or Moby Dick, one of the two.
Non-fiction was also heavy on my reading list, with this-year-specific shout-outs to David Byrne's How Music Works in particular (also, Pete Townshend's memoir, long-delayed, was worth the wait). Music played a big role in this year, just in the sense that I made a lot of mix CDs (including two for a girl who said quite rightly that my taste in music is awesome), but I lost that ability when my computer died (or was murdered...you know, it's not like Matlock is on the case. Let it go). But I still get to listen to a lot of it, via these things they call "CDs" and "radio programming of popular-music varieties."
We lost some good folks this year, famous ones that I miss will be Adam Yauch and Levon Helm. Also expiring this year: Mitt Romney's political career and the overall chances that the Republican Party will be relevant any time soon. I had to go there.
The Giants won big, both of them (New York in football, San Fran in baseball), I hope the New York ones repeat as Super Bowl champs. I spent thirty-five dollars on an Eli Manning shirt in New Orleans, high off the buzz of my Jeopardy audition. I don't regret it, nor do I regret buying Tom Sancton's Song for My Fathers, which educated me about New Orleans jazz.
So yeah, it wasn't all rainbows and unicorns, but it wasn't all doom and gloom, either. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. If the world is still around on December 22, I'll be even happier, because I feel like I'm actually starting on something as opposed to coming to the end of something. What that is is still up in the air, but I'm hopeful. Unless the Mayans (who couldn't predict their own damn future) get it right...
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