2010: don't fuck this one up

This morning my city is seriously involved in the task of washing itself clean, slants of rain driving against every concrete surface and mud-beaten field, and I understand perfectly well: 2009 felt like one that could have residues. With the bravery we can muster from new possibility, we need to look up, wash clean our eyes, and start of the task of overcoming last year's inertia.

2009 paints a vivid picture of giving up and of persevering. Where we gave up, our complicity sucked dry our resolve: change is hard and things aren't so bad and who's to say that'd be better anyways? Yet here we stand again, on the precipice of prorogation, in the pre-Olympic battle if human versus corporate rights, with inquiries ringing uncomfortable truths about tasers and torture, on a marble that is not far from drowning us all.

In some sense, 09 was our dress rehearsal for the launch of this decade; in a rare moment of pattern emerging in chaos, we have somehow come full circle, this time at the same moment our most recent compass round this solar orb itself comes to an end. The question, the challenge, the imperative now is that we use what we've learned. Our rehearsal was a disaster, you know it as well as I do, yet even then, there were moments. Wear green, vote for change, re-engage, give 'em hell, and you'll tap into the power in this script. Don't, and it will fall flat. And we'll fall flat, and far.

Admitting to having done wrong is hard. Admitting to having done nothing is harder. Time to suck it up, rainy, hung-over foggies. We've had a year to absorb the situation, feel it out, and pussy foot. 2010 needs boots, says stomp on in.