New Year's Eve, for me, is often an evening of contrivance. A few hours of underlying societal pressure to create moments. The thing is, the best moments aren't planned. They just happen; agreeable ingredients brought together and stirred by some benevolent outside force. That's what makes them magical, that's what makes them moments.
This December 31st, my wife suggested that we see a movie so we Fandangoed The Imitation Game. Like a good bedtime story, it amazed. More so because it's rooted in non-fiction: in the messy and the extraordinary that is human potential, in the struggles of every person who pays heed to, as Mahatma Gandhi put it, that still, small voice within.
A good story, like the one about Alan Turing's life, never forces itself upon you. It invites you in and welcomes you and encourages you to stay and to be yourself. It encourages you period. Strangely, it also leaves you with both answers and questions unanswered. But maybe that's just leverage for you to grab a friend, find a good coffee house, continue a conversation, and stay a little while longer in the moment.