January 1 may be my favorite day of each year. Call it an arbitrary time marker in a chaotic, unsympathetic universe if you will, but, to me, the day almost vibrates with an energy of opportunity. The world exhales, grants itself permission to begin again. Another journey around the sun.
I compare it, this thrill, to the feeling I get when I see a blank word document, and I’m unsure of what I’m going to write. Or, perhaps, the beginning of a new save file on a video game. How will I play through it this time? What might I discover anew? 2017. What will that mean to me when we’re ushering in 2018?









