I have yet to spend a New Years getting shit-faced, partying with friends, screaming and making lots of noise when the clock turns. Three years ago I was sick with the flu and a high fever - couldn't go out, though I was awake at midnight. Two years ago I had my wisdom teeth out - I got to go out for a bit, but I was draggy and loopy on vicodin. Last year I was in good health, but all we did was play poker ("Oh hey, it's midnight. Happy New Years, everyone.") - I think I made pancakes or waffles in the morning, I don't remember. This year? The demon-strep sort of ruined my entire week, and all I'll be doing tonight is sitting at my computer sipping apple juice. It's debatable if I'll be awake at midnight. I'm sort of hoping next year I can break the chain and have the party-hat excuse.
I guess the one thing New Year's Eve does, more than any day other than maybe a birthday, is make you really look-in-the-face the fact that it has been exactly one year since the last time you were forced to do so by the nature of the day. Because everyone else around you is also doing it, you find yourself asking, "So, how did I just waste an entire other year of my life? What did I gain from 365 days?" And this year more than any has been the most important, impacting, life-changing yet - as every year following this will probably earn itself the right to be, because that's the nature of life moving on and growing older.
I started the year playing poker. I started the year incredibly in love. I started the year living in the moment, because the moment would be gone and a thousand miles away in one month. I was excited, I thought I knew exactly what I was doing with my life, and while I knew it was all going to be unexpected and new and exciting I held onto this stupid notion, that I'm still having difficulty completely shaking, that I was far more in control of what happened in my life than any person ever has the scope or experience or influence to be.
I made the decision last year to do something entirely for me. I put myself way above anyone and made the decision that I wanted to experience something different. I wanted to step away as the person I had spent two years figuring out I was and stretch beyond that somewhere completely alien to me, to see what else that person that I was so happy with could become. In 48 hours I went from sleeping in a bed I knew, with a person I loved, to standing in a city in another country, completely, undeniably alone. It almost seems unreal, now, it's been almost a year since I was standing in New Zealand for the first time - wide-eyed and excited and scared. I left New Zealand in such a different light from the way I arrived.
I spent my birthday as alone as I had ever spent it before. Happy 19th. I pretty much vowed, from that day, that I would never spend another birthday without doing something birthday-worthy and with as many people I could muster. The first month in New Zealand was overwhelming and felt hopeless and alone; and one month exactly to the day, I found a place to live. Mere days later I had a job. I still hold to the ideal notion that the world has a way of putting things into place almost perfectly for the people who don't give up on believing in the world; that's pretty much what started that notion.
In 2006 I learned that I have the ability to sell myself wonderfully - interviewers, beware, I'm a top salesperson and my product is me. I learned that the jobs I had and will have in life weren't dumb luck, I'm just damn good at applying myself and find it easy to pick up something new and do well at just about anything I want to do. Even the jobs I don't want to do, I can still milk out like a superstar. I learned telemarketing just about sucks, always, no matter what, but I also learned sales - watch out world, because I know what you're selling and I know when you're selling it. I saw three of my favorite people in the world perform live and it was one of the most enjoyable moments of my life. I learned how much I hate being unemployed and applying myself to nothing. I learned how much I hate the fucking, endless, drippy-droppy rain. I hit a low point of my life, and in another country, for crissakes. My first serious relationship ended; I lost one of the best friends I've ever had in my entire life, and though I'm over the relationship, I'd be lying if I didn't say that still doesn't hurt like hell sometimes. I gave up on New Zealand because it wasn't worth it anymore to be so listless and unmotivated; I need to get away from the hole I'd dug myself and go down a different path. So, back to The States. Airports proved once again to be worthy of the hate I have for them. I marveled in a new ten dollar bill. I realized that despite not being a drinker, I did miss the ability to actually purchase alcohol. I got back and was still depressed because I was still stuck somewhere I didn't really want to be. I plunged into the deep-end, head first, because I once again just needed to get out, and I moved to Denver.
And so far, it's been the best decision of my life. I like my apartment. I love my job (another of those life-putting-itself-into-place moments on that one). I love the people I've met through work. I love that I live close to a couple of my best friends. I can drive five minutes down the road and know it's likely Jordan will be around to talk to. I'll be starting school again in just weeks, and after two years I'm excited and nervous to get back into it. My life has roller-coastered from January to December, taking a long and fast dive in the middle of the year, and has now started once again on the up-swing, and I'm hoping the ride continues to rise or at very least plateaus in the coming months. I'm happy where I am right now. Well, relatively speaking, since I'm still not thrilled I'm sitting by myself on New Years Eve still recovering from being horribly ill. All I can hope for now is that things will keep getting better.
Too much bad happened in 2006 that seriously muddied up the waters, but it was definitely a month of some serious introspection and growing, which is sometimes more valuable than just having a jolly-good time all year round.
Without this year: I wouldn't have discovered I'm as interested in photography as I am. I couldn't say that I at least tried, which is a lot more than a lot of people could ever do in their lives. I wouldn't have grown up and learned more about life in a way I needed to. I'd have three less holes in my body. I wouldn't have one the most gorgeous tattoos to grace human-flesh proudly on my body. I'd have missed out on meeting a very good friend. I'd be missing that many more laughs and WTF memories. I'd have missed some fantastic music.
All in all 2006 has left me feeling stronger, more confident, more beautiful, as a canvas for great artwork, someone I'm proud and happy to be. I'm trying to relax, take life more as it's handed to me and as I work for it, rather than thinking I know what's going to come if I follow points x, y and z. There's always room for criticism and improvement, but hey, I'm doing about as well as I should hope to be.
It'll be interesting, to say the least, to look at it all again next year. And damn, there's some stuff I'm looking forward to immensely already in store for 2007, and that's always a good sign.
Hope everyone is having a party-hat excused good time!
Labels: 2006, 2007, New Years, reflections