"2010" is difficult to make in sunglasses

With New Years Eve and the ensuing new year comes a time of reflection on the events of the previous year. You can't walk down the street without seeing "Best of 2009," "Worst of 2009" and the like written on magazine covers, newspapers, and flyers. Last night I was on the phone, and found myself saying that this year was…well, not one of my best. It's not that plenty of good things didn't happen, I merely feel as though I could have done better.

Call me naive, but I think the best thing about the "New Year," is just that- it's "new" an opportunity to start fresh, a hope that maybe, with a switch of the calendar will come a change- a new outlook, a new perspective, a letting go of old habits and everything that you've done wrong. Confession, Gods loophole, is offered more often on New Years Eve and New Years Day for a reason- people want a clean slate for the New Year. The fact, though, that most people don't succeed in making long term changes to their lifestyle- hardly matters. People choose to use January 1st as a starting point for trying new things, when what they've been doing simply isn't working out.

The snow is coming down hard outside, covering up everything that seemed to be here yesterday. It is cold and the roads in central park are empty. For a city that never sleeps, it is awfully quiet.

I learned a lot this year… just because you find ten jello shots in someones fridge doesn't mean you should take them when it's 3 in the morning and you've been "out" since noon…you cannot escape your problems by relocating yourself- they will come back to you until you solve them- but in the meantime, drinking andre and ordering pizza doesn't do any harm… essentially: I am not invincible. I feel like this year was the first time I can genuinely say that things went wrong just because I didn't do anything to stop them from happening, thinking I was somehow immune to basic social patterns.

When I sat down to write this, I planned to make a list of my favorite days of the year- my own "best of 2009," if you will, and I had some in mind- Maggie's birthday, My birthday, St. Patricks Day, the Inaugural Ball…but after a few minutes, I realized that the best times of this year didn't really work like that. There's some quote about how we don't remember days, we remember moments…and i'd say that's pretty spot on…sitting in exchange on the day of inauguration, the Orange Bowl, getting ready to go to the inaugural ball, dinner on valentines day, the "all girls club," nights at TT's house, the tiki bar at Thirds, Champions in its glory days, all nighters, bagels in airports, dancing to live music, blue shots at all inclusive hotels, cheap limo rides, discovering Rugby, Hooters, free drinks at the Daily Grill, finishing finals, driving to Pennsylvania, sitting outside of Townhouse row in the dead of summer with speakers, postgaming the entire summer, celebrating my birthday at midnight, the mill for Maggies birthday, Kenny Chesney, Rascal Flatts, themed parties, wing fest, the world series, halloweek, froggys, saying goodbye, coming home…

I could go on. But my point is that it wouldn't do those times justice to say that this year was "subpar" …sure, i went through a few too many jobs, pulled a few too many all nighters and said some things I regret…I've trusted the wrong people and I've let friends down when it mattered most- but, truth be told, a lot of times it takes things like that to test a friendship, a relationship. It's good to know, even when you fuck up, that there are people that are always on your side. I'd like to have a better handle on things next year- my life, my future. I'd like to trust myself more and rely on others less. But, come on, I'm 20. Maybe everyone should stop taking life so seriously…but not so "un-seriously" as to be making runs to Columbia Plaza at 11am.

So- to all of the late nights, the walks of shame, and the trips to The Mall. . .

May 2010 be nothing less

La Vie Dansante

I am a pack rat. Or compulsively nostalgic.

Ticket stubs, notes, wristbands, receipts, cards. . . it may stem from trying to find permanence in the fleeting or from not being able to let go of the past...but whatever it is, it tends to make packing rather difficult- leaving me with nothing but extra baggage.

Holding onto the remnants of times that impacted who I am today is a habit that began years ago, with a champagne bottle that marked the start of a new year (that bottle still sits on my dresser in Pennsylvania to this day).

There is an orange ceramic box resting on my nightstand, a record of the extent to which this habit has developed. I bought it my freshman year of high school on a Spring Break in Jamaica, and it now overflows with plane ticket stubs, dinner receipts, business cards, and the like that bring back memories. In this box, I have hoarded the world and my memories of it- and perhaps it is with the sum total of all of these items that I hope to convey some part of my life.

I buy keychains and shot glasses everywhere that I go, but I neither carry keys nor take shots. I sleep on the left side of the bed. I love country music, slow dancing, and southern accents. I think that the pouring rain holds so much promise and jeep wranglers are the most fun. People would say I'm a romantic- or painfully naive.

There is nothing I enjoy more than a bottle of champagne on a back porch in the summertime when the air is clear and dawn is breaking.

When you are young, everything seems like it is either the end of everything or the start of everything. I find, though, that I have not yet stopped adding to that orange box.

It would be childish to deny that this wasnt, in some respects, the end of something. The end of my first stint in Washington DC. It will not be the same when I return, but it will always be DC. I suspect that is enough.

I am going to Paris in 3 weeks.