Happy New Year!

Happy New Year! A new decade has begun...

I remember exactly what I was doing 10 years ago. Maud and I dressed in suits and ties, my hair was cut in a short A-line bob, walking around Grenoble with two bottles of wine a-piece in our bags. Singing songs, making a random guy kneel down in front of the Berlioz statue and recite the Lords Prayer to him, crashing parties up and down centre-ville, and finishing the night with pizza at Maud's parents' apartment.

This year was a lot less entertaining, but fun. As in fun on a normal Friday night out I suppose. It just made me a little sad that at the end of the night I ended up walking down the street alone, a little pensive and just feeling worn out. Meg has Jimmy now, Rosie had Noel, a lot of my old friends back in England and France are married with kids... Anyway - enough of that.

By the end of the night I had been called "the sober bitch/sister/person/girl/woman" by 5 different people. Please. I have a name! I don't mind if this comes out of someone I don't know's mouth, but it's really upsetting when it's close friends who say it. I don't call you "bartender dude" or "drunk dude falling asleep at the bar" or "cokefiend girl" or "Indian dude who keeps hitting on me" do I? So why define me by something that I have chosen? It's a little disrespectful and really not funny.
Whether I drink or not is not an issue to me - whether I am happy or not is and I am a LOT happier now than I was this time last year.

I KNOW I shouldn't think these things over so much - but when it happens on a regular basis it just makes me sad.

Pretty sunset tonight: