Thirty? Pfft. Isn't it the new twenty, anyway?
My New Year's resolution is to pretend that turning thirty is really no biggie. I am going to defy the Gods who made me the anxious, angst-filled, worry-wart that I am with a big two fingers to the sky.
In the world outside my head, this year has been not so great for a few people I know (and indeed, the person closest to me in the world). Then again, in my circle of "peeps" there has been the birth of a beautiful baby boy, the purchase of a dream house, and some new relationships formed (and no significant break-ups). A year of mixed blessings, then.
In music, as in school reports, the girls have performed better than the boys this year. The albums which have made the most impact on me this year have all been by women, with the possible exception of Scott Matthews (and then only because of the hints of Jeff Buckley which ghost through his voice). Amy Winehouse blew me away with her deep and gutsy Back to Black. Joan as Police Woman (again, the Buckley connection) broke my heart with her soulful, cracked voice. Jenny Lewis brought me around to alt country. Cat Power came out with her best album to date, appropriately titled The Greatest. Claire Bowditch reminded me of what I love about Melbourne (I was a little behind on this discovery).
Most Gorgeous Gig of the Year: Lior at Camden Lock
Sweetest & Funniest Flick of the Year: Little Miss Sunshine
Most Breathtaking TV Programme of the Year: Planet Earth
Best Haircut of my Life: November 2007. Thank you, Stace.