The end of the year didn't hold any significance for me. Another year over, the next will just be the same. Then in the final week various events occurred that led me to some realisations.

The first was a throw away comment at a party. "Step 2. Acceptance" Yes, the quote is wrong. It was said in jest (regarding an injury) and certainly got us laughing. Yet it also got me to thinking. I hadn't accepted certain things in my past. Hell, I was clinging on to them and analysing them! I was being the opposite of Tom in (500) Days of Summer. Looking back all I could see were my failures. I was missing out the good times. I was letting those apparent failures define who I was. I was forgiving but not forgetting. I had become a cynical, pessimistic, grumpy old fuck.

Then, as a lot of people do at the end of a year, I was making plans. My plans were the exact same as at the start of 2011. Last year was a holding pattern for me. I had made my plans. I had the equipment to maybe not realise those plans fully but certainly get me headed in the right direction. Yet I dithered. I dallied. I made excuses. My heart was definitely not in it.

I had lost faith in myself. I questioned everything I did and found myself wanting. So I stopped trying. I made the right noises in public (most of the time. Top tip - stay off Facebook when drunk and melancholic) but in private I was stricken by doubt. I would spend hours in Lightroom and Photoshop on one image as I was never satisfied. I would write and delete. I had ceased to believe and trust in myself.

I should be photographing, writing and filming for myself. Instead of trying to second guess what would may be liked, I should create what I like. My work may not be spectacular but it's mine. If you don't like it, fine. I don't like Transformers (amongst other things!) but that doesn't make them invalid for everybody else.

As you can probably tell from this journal alone, I like movies. Have done since I saw "The Neverending Story" when I was 8. My current job is in a cinema and it was there that the next realisation struck. Due to my poor diet and lack of exercise in the past couple of years I have piled on some pounds. Nothing significant but enough to lower my self esteem. However when in work, I will put on an act when dealing with guests. I'll smile, I'll joke, I'll get accused of flirting by colleagues but to me it's just a bit of banter. I say it's an act but, really, it's what I used to be like. Still can be obviously. I digress.

I'm serving a girl at the Ben and Jerry's stand. She has spiked, short hair and numerous body mods.  We're having a bit of banter but ultimately she decides to not purchase anything. I comment to my colleague about how I thought she was cool and think nothing of it. 20 minutes later and she's back. The laughing continues as she places an order then I ask her if she'd like any toppings such as sprinkles or whipped cream. "I'd love a slice of you with whipped cream". I was stunned. Literally. I stumbled through the rest but my mind was whirling. Holy shit. A girl had just hit on me. I'm not as bad looking as I thought. And instead of saying "that could be arranged" or something better, I had acted like a bumbling fool.

Finally came a status update while drinking with a friend. "Being happy boils down to three things. Something to do. Someone to love. Something to look forward to." Wow. That caused a stir. Some supporting the philosophy, others proposing their own. All of them valid. We find happiness in our own way but, for now, I am going to follow the above. Maybe in the future I will not need external validation to achieve happiness. If it turns out I do need them, I'm certainly not going to count it as a failure. However, I was reminded of the fantastic support and wonderful friends I have. The ones that have stuck around while I've acted like a douche.

So there we have it - my plans for this year. Accept the past. Follow my heart. Trust my instincts. Move forward with my ambitions. Become open to opportunities. Be the person my friends know I can be.

Throw out all the clothes older than my daughter. Unless they're now cool and vintage.