Thirty minutes later, that seems it. The media noche is over, and so are the fireworks. The countdown specials on television have wrapped up. The calendars have started over again. There's plenty on zeros, and in a similar fashion, there's plenty of ones. After the euphoria of the actual moment when the clock hits midnight, the numbers flip and you know it all starts again, what now?

I'm not really the sort who does these things when a new year arrives. New year's resolutions? Waste of time. I'd rather keep on doing what I'm doing - not that I'm (that) resistant to change, but I don't really have to limit myself to the first day of the year. "I shall lose weight." Really, I'd rather walk for the next 365 days rather than dump all my efforts in December, when I realize I haven't followed up on anything. That, or I'm totally lazy.

Still, oddly, there was this sense of revolution when both hands of the clock hit twelve. It was noisy, maybe less than before, but still noisy, and there I was, seated in front of the computer, watching tweets fly - I can't go out, stupid asthma attack - and going, "well, this is it."

I don't actually know why, but it does feel like there's much more at stake this time around than before. That, or I've become too existential over the past few days. Maybe it's the difference a change of number brings - two zeros for the past ten years, finally giving way to a one... and two more zeros, right.

Let's see if the next 365 days justify the first thirty minutes. Or the next 3652.

And your responses...

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