Epic.

Three thousand nine-hundred and forty-one kids (or what felt like it) gathered around the television last night to shout the countdown from 15 seconds to the dropping of the ball.

Then as if we were in a movie, for possibly the first time in my entire life, I witnessed the entire room burst into singing Auld Lange... whatever that song is they sing at midnight. I'm too lazy to look up the spelling. Sue me.

From there, it was an exodus of bodies migrating from bedrooms and kitchens into the living room where everyone was hugging and kissing each other. Then, slowly, as lips were still parting, this quiet chant fell over the group and began to grow in strength and volume.

"19 days... 19 days.... 19 days.. NINETEEN DAYS!"

Fists shook in the air, glasses lifted and emptied into smiling mouths as it became undeniably evident that "secret voter ballots" aren't very secret at all.

More than drinking, more than celebrating the dawning of a new year full of resolutions to be nicer and lose weight, more than mourning the loss of the people you failed to properly love, pounds you couldn't shed and number of times you lit up a cigarette anyway despite previous resolutions, my politically charged friends chose to celebrate the historical changing of the guards on January 20.

It's hard not to fall in love with people so impassioned.

I finally fell asleep around 4am with tangled hair, smudged eyeliner and hopes of remembering more about 2009 than I did in 2008.

I dreamed I was in charge of making $300 worth of peach tea (brewing sun tea and mashing hundreds of peaches) for the wedding of a friend whom I undoubtedly expect to become engaged this year. I was elected to be the tea maker, florist and photographer.

I am taking this psychological mutation to imply that I have been in too many weddings recently, I work entirely too much and I work entirely too much.

In 2007, I remember shooting photos last new year's ever of bands that were performing, shooting photos for a Valentine's day theatre show and it being pointed out that I didn't have a date. I don't remember anything about March except that my roommate was supposed to move out and then decided to stay until the end of the month. April, I turned 27 and immediately took off for a week in Mexico after my premonition about my abuelo dying came true. I don't remember Ma or June, though I'm sure I have photos documenting whatever I did. I spent the 4th of July weekend working photo shoots, I spent August helping my boyfriend pack as he prepared to move to Italy, sent him off in September and I spent from then through December playing flute at football games, volleyball games, orchestral christmas company partyness and in between all that, I've been playing hockey.

Sometimes the only place I feel at peace is on the rink with a stick in my hands and a guy twice my size charging at me.

January holds a lot of dreams, hopes and fears for me. a project I've been working on since about March of last year will finally either come to fruition or fail completely. It makes me sad to think I could work so hard on something and still have my efforts fall on deaf ears again, but as my grandfather said "dress like them, talk like them, tell them your great ideas and if they don't listen, give up and leave."

This is not to sound pessimistic or passive aggressive but merely an acceptance that sometimes you can't change things drenched in apathy. I talked to my grandfather for 2 hours today and at one point, upon telling him my plans for the year he said "Are you hearing what you're saying? You're not happy. you should meet my friend at work. She's a little younger than you and
shes a lot like you... Really really intelligent, really really bright and really realy wasting her time."

I've been in this town almost seven years now. That's a frighteningly long time to stay in one place despite the 15 moves in between. And like I told him, this is a beautiful town, I love the local culture of art, I love my friends and I love everything I am able to do here but eventually you hit a plateau. I hit mine in 2006. My heart left and I never got it back. Over the last few months, my mind has been in search of my heart and it's only a matter of time now before my body finally follows.

I wouldn't mind staying longer if I were getting married and settling down with a family but let's face it, I have a better chance of winning an award for curing cancer than I do of getting a guy to marry me again. Which is not to say all is lost in the love department but I grow weary of watching prince after prince turn into frogs. If marriage and family was my only lifelong dream, I could understand parking at a roadside stand and increasing my search. But I was made for more than that.

My life is over as soon as I get that ring and stroller. Who I am as an individual ceases to exist. And that's a fine exchange for when I'm /ready/ to give that up.
Like Bridget Jones said, "I'm not willing to gamble my life on someone who's not quite sure. I'm still looking for something... more extrordinary than that."

There was a time when I was content to live with a Ring Pop proposal and a goldfish named William was enough for me to desire. All of my "someday"s drifted into a sea of what could have been and I was left with a pile of dirty laundry and dinner that always needed cooking.

In a world that's supposedly "raining men" all I seem to find is overcast skies. I know what's out there, I know what I'm capable of finding and capable of becoming. It's been five years since I saw a real honest-to-God lighting and thunderstorm. There are some things this town just can't offer me anymore. And there are some things in life I can't live without.

This year brings a lot of uncertainty on my part, but I've noticed when you follow a calling, it rarely comes with roadmaps.

And so I trek forward, sifting through my own laundry and own dinner to fill my belly. Maybe there's still a Mark Darcy out there waiting to stumble upon the diary in my nightstand drawer. Maybe the most I'll ever get is a selection of overcast skies.

Regardless, I made a promise to myself in 2003 that I'd never again settle with my dreams or self-worth. I've walked this tightrope for a year and found myself giving up more and more each day. I'd rather face failure dead-on than spend another year daydreaming about what I could do "if given the chance."

This life is my only chance.

Eleanor Roosevelt once said "Do one thing every day that scares you."
It's only day one and I'm already scared shitless.

Life is still beautiful, you jsut have to see it fromt he right angle. :)