Generally, I celebrate my blog’s anniversary in December. I discontinued this practice last year. In fact, last year I even got the date of the anniversary wrong. I did. When my closest friend wished me on the correct date, it hit me that I had been such a scatterbrain. I laughed at my own apathy, but I didn’t do anything about it. Safe to say that things have gone downhill from there and this year has been particularly beastly. More on that later.

So, this year, although I did not celebrate my blog, I did a little activity on my book-review blog, which I maintain with a friend. We’ve been doing interviews of esurient readers. It has been particularly fun concocting questions. It has. We have done 9 interviews so far, and each one of them has distinct questions resulting into a unique conversation every time. The answers that readers have supplied reflect on them so well. I understand that we don’t really “know” anyone, but this series has been like looking through a kaleidoscope. Everyone has shined forth in diverse colours, and it’s been so amazing to watch. Their beaded, tiny thoughts have reflected off mirrors and created polychromatic patterns. If you’re interested, check out Bookhad Spotlight about the real people who actually give a damn about books that authors write. Though this post is not about the interviews, I can’t get around to anything without mentioning them first.

I intended to write this almost a week ago, but it didn’t happen as planned. You know those conversations people have about people when they think the “other” people won’t be listening? Those conversations in which they say what they really feel and reveal who they really are? Yes, those. I was in one of those conversations recently. Among other things that left me in total awe of a person (a different person than my last post) was the genuineness behind the person’s concern for other people. My optimistic self has believed that these people still exist and are untouchedΒ by the selfishness that prevails, and I was pleasantly affirmed. This person actually cared for other people and made some sane, axiomatic arguments about caring for fellow humans which I haven’t quite heard in a long time. I just sat and thought, “Wow.” Just how many people walk behind closed doors and not pin point or criticize? It was one of those few moments when I believed there was hope after all, and now that I write this, the recollection is not as strong, but the message is.

WP_20131223_008A considerable amount of time has passed since that day, and most of it has involved a lot of laughing, celebrating, some getting over and above all, exfoliating. In the flurry of these activities, a friend was regained, though for a brief moment. And the friend reassured me about all the writing that I have been doing. It didn’t matter how it was done, the friend said, it needed to be done. Sometimes, you’ve just got to trust somebody when they say something. Their saying something is self-evident now and then. And that’s that. In that brief moment, a friend and faith were gained. The friend left. The faith is still here. Christmas spirit, some would say.

In this spirit, I received a Christmas gift from my Secret Santa today. A cerulean sling bag with pretty white butterflies and flowers on it. Also, I received a blue book titled The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Suess. The gifts made my day. Presumably, the book is about the adventures of two children while at home on a cold, wet day. I am yet to read it. I am suffering the hangover of another blue book The Fault in our Stars, which, by the way, is maddeningly beautiful.

While I go around saying I can’t remember where I was last Christmas, I should like to believe this Christmas has been particularly wonderful.

Thank you person, friend, and secret Santa. And a very Merry Christmas to everyone. πŸ™‚

As a treat, listen to this: It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.