- a few nights free of guilt in sin city - more of a highlight, less of a harbinger.
- "welcome to my communa" - we will go back to your communa.
- an acrobatic spectacle - too much alcohol to remember much but the fire.
- fake eyelashes and glitter. for once, I enjoyed the glitz.
- a trip to New Zealand.
- a jump that was less enlightening than frightening.
- the strongest urge to get away. An impetus I'll never forget.
- an email exchange and a plane ticket bought - I never looked back.
- rediscovering a city that I spent too little time in.
- frat house headquarters on Dartmouth street, Hannaford's, afternoon walks in the park watching baseball games and wistful teenagers, our hands held in summer downpours, shivering in 8-hour stints in the library while the New England heat and humidity blazed outside, chats and beers on the porch, fights in Floyd, lighting up cigarette after cigarette after cigarette..
- thirty pounds lost - anger and stress took its place.
- a fourth of July to remember with fireworks lighting up the hot summer night over the Charles River.
- meanwhile, a book was slowly written. meanwhile, a revolution unraveled in North Africa and the Middle East.
- a visit to New York City. harmless. without intention. a job offered, and a scramble to understand Manhattan realty.
- alphabet city. incessant horns and sirens. lights that never turn off.
- BYOD Tuesdays. And a tradition is born.
- an apartment. my apartment. rent to be paid.
- two years forged. a future mists on the far horizon.
- re-enlistment, meaning painfully long nights. meaning hushed screaming matches. inhaling the embers on cigarette after cigarette after cigarette...
2011, you were surprisingly a year full of light. a harsh, jarring, neon, evanescent light.
2012, you are my year. please be my year. I won't let you come back to me in 2013 and only remember disjointed bits and pieces splintered by the unforgiving glare. flashes of light here and there to cast shameful beams on the fury taking refuge in the dark.
I want you to stay illuminated for me. glow warmth and happiness. not scathing humor. radiate genuine. joy. already there are lovely evenings in the soft, gauzy glow on 82nd and fifth.
and you. thank you for helping me hold it together. and by it, I mean all those pieces.
(this was supposed to be a fun exercise, and I'm sorry to see that my 2011 came out this way.)
2 comments:
sometimes when i read these posts, you seem so very far away. not just in terms of physical distance (never really had geography working in our favor), but of where we are in life, of our goals and expectations and daily anxieties. here you are, actively trying to find yourself in this big - sometimes too big - city, while i hide behind my medical texts and pretend i'm still too young to take responsibility for my own life.
part of my is so proud of where you are now, nearly 1 year after this post (proud like a sister, not a condescending friend), and part of me worries for you all the same (insert aforesaid annotation). i hope when i see you next, i will find you happier, healthier, and more fulfilled than when i saw you last.
and i hope that 2012 was all you wished it to be.
Jen Hen, you're the best.
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