365.242199 days of kissing strangers
Man. Miss Amber was right. How you spend the New Year will determine and shape your entire year. Last year, I was drunk.
I tried to study and failed miserably. I kissed a stranger. I met a nice guy who drove me home. I went home alone. I did not get laid.
I spent my birthday drinking Mimosas, avoiding my phone, eating good food and resting.
This is how my entire year went. I tried to study. I kissed Strangers. Male and female. Single and married. I kissed folk (and shockingly didn't get Mono or Swine Flu).
At 26, I managed to never lose my Morals, My Shoes, My Panties or My Car. I am a tamer me. A much tamer Me. I didn't "almost get arrested". Not even once.
I learned to laugh this year. Deep, hearty laughter. Something I hadn't done genuinely in a very long time.
I worked on "Authenticity" this year. Making sure that my outsides matched my insides. No fake smiles. No happiness covering up shit. I was me, through and through. For better or worse, no matter whom it inconvenienced.
And I ate. I ate food. And I enjoyed it. I met people, I went on dates and I enjoyed myself. It's hard to do that when you don't eat. Amazing how simple shit like eating food and generally being able to enjoy the company of those around you on a fundamental level makes such a difference.
I walked away alot this year. Whenever someone made me uncomfortable or anxious or sad, I left. I put me first. All year. I made sure that my needs came first. After spending years making sure others were comfortable (often at my own expense), I made sure that I felt safe.
I fell in love at least 3 times. Admittedly, these loves were of varying quality. Some more genuine and deeply felt than others. I fell in like so often it was ridiculous.
I wrote alot. 170 some odd posts. I wrote cuz I needed to and the more I wrote, the less I needed to. I've tried to explain.... I wrote because I needed to write. For the longest time, my thoughts were stuck. In my head and my throat. I didn't have a voice to say what I needed to, because I wasn't sure that what I had to say was significant. My thoughts and feelings festered, until I realized that it didn't matter. It didn't matter if no one wanted to hear it; if it was inconvenient or ugly or gritty or just plain fucked up. It didn't matter if no one wanted to hear it because I still needed to say it.
I have readers now but even when I didn't, when my words and my voice were not defined, it didn't change my need to say what i felt. The passion, the words, they came. I don't write for you. I write because I have to. For me. It's cathartic.
Somehow in my haze of fuckery from the past, I didn't have a clear vision of who I was. Often, when I thought I was "the bad guy", I was actually being quite deftly taken advantage of. I just didn't have the luxury of selectively perceiving myself to my own benefit. Perhaps being hard on myself has allowed me a more realistic perspective when it comes to my own life. Sometimes I'm good. Sometimes I'm bad. I just have the ability to clearly see the difference and not sugarcoat the gray in between.
Aldous Huxley said "An intellectual is a person who has discovered something more interesting than sex."
I don't know how true or false that shit is, but I know what interests me and it ain't sex.
So this New Year.... I will be in New York. I will be assisting in a wedding. The next days after that, Ill be with my homeys. Last year was hectic. Without focus, I pissed away 365.242199 days just kissing strangers, and shopping. This year, much more focused. Much more direction. Much more heart.
2010. It'll be a good year, with more direction... More purpose. 2008 was just me trying to catch my breath. 2009 was me, learning to crawl, to stand, to walk. 2010, I'll run. Cuz I'm meant for more than what I've been doing. Its more than writing. More than love or hate. I got a vision for 2010.
I tried to study and failed miserably. I kissed a stranger. I met a nice guy who drove me home. I went home alone. I did not get laid.
I spent my birthday drinking Mimosas, avoiding my phone, eating good food and resting.
This is how my entire year went. I tried to study. I kissed Strangers. Male and female. Single and married. I kissed folk (and shockingly didn't get Mono or Swine Flu).
At 26, I managed to never lose my Morals, My Shoes, My Panties or My Car. I am a tamer me. A much tamer Me. I didn't "almost get arrested". Not even once.
I learned to laugh this year. Deep, hearty laughter. Something I hadn't done genuinely in a very long time.
I worked on "Authenticity" this year. Making sure that my outsides matched my insides. No fake smiles. No happiness covering up shit. I was me, through and through. For better or worse, no matter whom it inconvenienced.
And I ate. I ate food. And I enjoyed it. I met people, I went on dates and I enjoyed myself. It's hard to do that when you don't eat. Amazing how simple shit like eating food and generally being able to enjoy the company of those around you on a fundamental level makes such a difference.
I walked away alot this year. Whenever someone made me uncomfortable or anxious or sad, I left. I put me first. All year. I made sure that my needs came first. After spending years making sure others were comfortable (often at my own expense), I made sure that I felt safe.
I fell in love at least 3 times. Admittedly, these loves were of varying quality. Some more genuine and deeply felt than others. I fell in like so often it was ridiculous.
I wrote alot. 170 some odd posts. I wrote cuz I needed to and the more I wrote, the less I needed to. I've tried to explain.... I wrote because I needed to write. For the longest time, my thoughts were stuck. In my head and my throat. I didn't have a voice to say what I needed to, because I wasn't sure that what I had to say was significant. My thoughts and feelings festered, until I realized that it didn't matter. It didn't matter if no one wanted to hear it; if it was inconvenient or ugly or gritty or just plain fucked up. It didn't matter if no one wanted to hear it because I still needed to say it.
I have readers now but even when I didn't, when my words and my voice were not defined, it didn't change my need to say what i felt. The passion, the words, they came. I don't write for you. I write because I have to. For me. It's cathartic.
Somehow in my haze of fuckery from the past, I didn't have a clear vision of who I was. Often, when I thought I was "the bad guy", I was actually being quite deftly taken advantage of. I just didn't have the luxury of selectively perceiving myself to my own benefit. Perhaps being hard on myself has allowed me a more realistic perspective when it comes to my own life. Sometimes I'm good. Sometimes I'm bad. I just have the ability to clearly see the difference and not sugarcoat the gray in between.
Aldous Huxley said "An intellectual is a person who has discovered something more interesting than sex."
I don't know how true or false that shit is, but I know what interests me and it ain't sex.
So this New Year.... I will be in New York. I will be assisting in a wedding. The next days after that, Ill be with my homeys. Last year was hectic. Without focus, I pissed away 365.242199 days just kissing strangers, and shopping. This year, much more focused. Much more direction. Much more heart.
2010. It'll be a good year, with more direction... More purpose. 2008 was just me trying to catch my breath. 2009 was me, learning to crawl, to stand, to walk. 2010, I'll run. Cuz I'm meant for more than what I've been doing. Its more than writing. More than love or hate. I got a vision for 2010.
Comments
(Mayda del Valle)
in regards to the changes made each year:
The only man who behaves sensibly is my tailor. He takes me measurements anew each time he sees me. The rest go on with their old measurements and expect me to fit them.
(George Bernard Shaw)
lastly, I hope your friends statement on your NY's location shaping your year because I plan on spending mine in church with good people. c'mon Team God and company! LOL really though.