2015 and what I thought of it

As with any year, experiences may vary. Workwise it was better than 2011 through 14 should I consider lamenting the loss of my Team Leader job. It was bloody hard work. It was a stimulating environment and I was able to watch a vibrant campus grow up and change around me, visit Kuring-gai one final time (and take photos on my phone) and remember all those other times.
My final burst of emptying cupboards  and filling crates was a terrific way to sprint to the end and, for a records manager, I haven't left much clutter.

I've decided I'm done with records now if I can help it. And I'm ready for a very different structure.

But 2015 was what got me here.

I'd attempt a run down of favourite this and that but that's all come to an end in at least one sphere. My first blog Drink it Black I can no longer edit and so the final 'revolving or rotating hyperlink' happened round Chrissie.
This was a word that would have a different hyperlink applied every week and I did this for twelve and a half years, covering a lot of favourites over that time.

I participated in my first poetry slam at Katoomba Library and picked a ridiculously hard piece to recite. An old acquaintance from out of the blue contacted me asking whether her jazz trio could do one of my songs and of course I said yes. That was back in April and we've seen them a few times since then.

By July, knowing my future, I wrote Reinvention

Reinvention

I'm ready to head into my own unknown
where my asides collide and my deeds are overthrown
I'm prepared to be scared into moments anew
A penny for the many who are now the few
  seeking reinvention

I'll tinker with the blinkers til they finally come off
Fashion all forebodings and hold them aloft
I'll shatter the shutters shot through with chagrin
A wayward display shows that I'm anxious to win

The creaks I've had for weeks 
               are from cogs that are spinning
A stirring of the whirring 
               like it was at the beginning

I wrote more than twenty six songs and thirty poems and it seemed productive as I'd often scribble on the train when the mood struck. A song a fortnight doesn't seem that prolific but I did as many drafts as I felt each piece required and they're not counted, only each instance of unique verse.

The last week of November was a watershed as it was Mum's 80th and my sister's 50th and so some time in Bicton and Falcon along with Leda and Greenfields.

I wrote The Other Side of the Coin on Christmas Eve, my last day at work. It was either written on the train home or back here.

The Other Side of the Coin

Heads up kings and queens
of newly minted scenes
We watch your dolour float
along with those of note
Pay on demand and end demotion
for this denomination
For all you rose and fell
still with tales to tell

Though we get a sense
of early recompense
Out there daily shilling
to all those left willing
Pound pavement peer in cracks
inflate in flagro enacts
Penne ante persuasion
lead to this equation

The year is clear enough
Dime to call your bluff
Does this still have currency
Cast at last for clemency
As many in the money have since found
Begins with a spin ends on the ground

My goodbye while still technically on holidays followed on Boxing Day:

Freeing Us Up

No escalators or escalations
No relations solicitations
No obvious observations
No rising early or reaching late
And you know all of those
         woes to negotiate

All gone with the waving of a hand
  and the taking of a hug

No lifts no shifts
codes and keyed concession
No building tension
forget to mention

No crossing roads or casing creeds
 End to ask for other needs
No carrying, marrying, parrying
 Unrelenting documenting
Every hour in that tower