So that’s the end of 2008. Did it bring you good fortune? Did it bring you laughter and tears? Did you make new friends, and lose touch with old ones?

For me (well, this blog is about me), 2008 has probably been my best year, possibly ever. I’ve got a great new job, live in a fantastic (and random) country and hooked up with loads of cool people and doing something that probably 99% of people would ever have the courage or inclination to do.

There’s no way I want to get to the age of 80 and look back and say “I wished I had…”

Such a lot has happened, and I’ve learned so much. I’m really looking forward to 2009.

Do people still make new years resolutions? I’m going to tempt fate and list some out here…

1. Learn Tamil. I really want to learn the local lingo. I’m going to buy CD or course – books on Amazon have very bad ratings, so will have to hunt it out
2. Give people proper and indepth feedback at work
3. Keep a physical work diary to become more organized
4. Drink less – ha ha! Only kidding!
5. Earn more money from my little websites

A friend suggested that I write a poem for my first blog entry of 2009, but since I’m not that creative, I decided to post my favourite, and the worlds cheesiest poem instead. It’s extra mature cheddar cheese with an additional cheesy topping!

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
‘ Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!