[Author's note: I wrote this on December 27 of last year, and just decided to post it now. I'll let you decide if this is a good idea.]
Facebook's little "Your year" feature got a few details wrong, in my case. 2014 has been a year of stress, bad luck, and ill health. Naturally, that doesn't show up in the pictures.
I think next year will be better, because on New Year's Eve I am going to turn into a robot with laser guns. I will also turn into a bear. A robot laser bear with a nice little den tucked away in a little glen up in the mountains. There is a brook nearby, bubbling. There are stags roaring. I will eat one later. I'll sneak up on it and crush its neck because that's the fastest way.
Later, after I'm done being a bear, I will learn how to stop worrying about being a programmer, because I won't be a programmer anymore, because programming sucks. Programming is like learned helplessness, except instead of 'helplessness' it is 'sitting in a chair atrophying your muscles', and instead of 'learned' it is 'indoctrinated in the passing fad of industriousness and productivity'.
Outside the window in front of the desk at which I sit there is a bench that used to overlook the fields south of Wincanton. (Now it inlooks Rosie's front room.) It has a plaque on it engraved with the words "V R / Jubilee / 37 - 97 / Wincanton". I was going to somehow tie that to the Victorian virtues of industry and productivity, but I've given up on that now.
Anyway, 2014 sucked, but I have a plan and although I won't follow it (that's not how plans work) things will get better anyway.
Things did get a little better, although I did not turn into a bear.