The Longest Month

 I've been seeing a lot of chatter online about how long January has felt. 

"It's been 72 days of January" they joke. 

As funny and relatable as those jokes are, they also have me pondering just how aware we are of the passage of time at the beginning of every year. That awareness is really what slows the month down. It's odd to think of it this way, but January of a new year never has any blueprint or context. We're always in wait and see mode in January. We feel all thirty-one days as we try to predict whether or not this year will be better or worse than the last.

I personally love January. Not because it's my birthday month (by the way, I am 29 years old), but because it feels like the one month where we (on the western hemisphere at least) are all experiencing this collective lamentation. And invisible bubbles of hope are floating in the air all around us, filling it with a certain, transmittable energy. If you sit still for long enough with your eyes closed, you can feel the bubbles, lightly brushing against your skin, leaving a very slight cold session, and popping, silently, causing the hairs on your neck to stand up. 

I believe in new year resolutions because now is the time to harness all this energy into something that changes your life forever. I don't normally do this. Because it's not easy. But I always feel inspired to try and that's the first step. 

This January, I'm writing more. And I think I'm less depressed as well...

But I don't really recall what my mood was like yesterday, much less for 28 days in a row. It's a good thing I'm writing more. It's a great way to keep track of how I'm really doing. I'm hoping that I'll realize that I'm doing way better than my perception normally allows me to see. 

Anywho, Tomorrow is the last day of January. Come Saturday, everyone will become numb again. 

I hope I'm not like everyone.