As the year 1997 comes to an end, I breathe a very hefty sigh of relief.I never thought it possible to have so much frustration with something so inanimate as a year in time, but the contempt with which I reminisce about 1997 has surpassed any other animosity I have experienced in my 26 years of life.
After a series of successes in 1996 (I'd started grad school, met what I thought was a wonderful man, got a new car, a new job, a new apartment), every victory became a debacle with the arrival of 1997.
The past 12 months and their repugnance seem to have come to an end. The abundance of time that was spent looking for work has finally produced a promising new job. I rely on this position to bring forth a multitude of other triumphs, revoking the string of terrors that became 1997.
I don't know what happened this year. I do know (now) that I brought the year in erroneously. I remember being at the house of one of my boyfriend's friends, none of whom I ever had much use for. I remember midnight coming with the elusive boyfriend nowhere to be seen. I remember being entirely too intoxicated, frustrated and exhausted when I left the party without the boyfriend.
I should have known at that moment of the impending doom. That omen, curse or portent that would evolve into 365 days of virtual hell. That boyfriend and I hadn't been getting along well for some time. The new job had turned into a dull, repetitive nightmare - haunting me for at least forty hours per week, usually more. Graduate school was no longer an exciting challenge, but a weary obligation. And all of these events came, at once, to a shrieking halt with the onslaught of 1997.
I may never know if it was the Domino Effect that made things so assaulting and unmanageable, or just the curse of the year itself. I do know that I will never forget the horrors I experienced.
So, as I embark upon 1998, the salt is out of my eyes and I am able to see the sunrise off in the distance. Or are those just the headlights of a Mack truck coming my way?
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