First and foremost, I started the year off with a bang by completely uprooting my life and moving from Philadelphia to a small fishing village in Massachusetts. And yes, I probably was drunk when I decided that might possibly be a good idea.
As a result of The Move, I was unemployed for what felt like a very, very long time.
But because of that, B and I got to gallivanting all over Europe and even dipped our toes in Africa. For free.Tweet
On a related note, I also spent the majority of the first six months of my newlywed life living with my in-laws. This also felt like a very long time. Hiya, Babs! Love ya!
And then not only was I constantly battling a vicious and never-ending case of homesickness, but I had, like, no friends. For what also felt like a very long time. This, I've come to discover, is simply because New Englanders are assholes. Luckily, since I am also an asshole, I've picked up a few very good friends along the way.
But then I got a job. Which I love. And with that, I voluntarily get up (almost) every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at 4:30 a.m. to run with a group of homeless men and women, who I also love.
And then summer came -- for the love of gah FINALLY -- and I really hit my stride. I spent my weekends hanging out with friends on beaches and boats and docks and bars and pretty much operating like any other functioning alcoholic with a really nice tan.
B and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary. First, at the wedding of one of my best friends in the city where we were married ourselves, in Philadelphia, which I'm not going to say is vastly superior to Boston but I'm also not not going to say it either. And then we celebrated again together, in Provincetown.
By then it had gotten really cold again. And for what felt like a while after the marathon but was actually only two weeks, I couldn't run. But now I'm better and I can run but it's so fucking cold that who the hell wants to even go outside? I guess I do because I'm still out there almost every morning. Like a fucking idiot.
Before I knew it, it was Christmas and now it's January and I've spent the past month vacillating between being euphoric and a miserable sack of snot because I miss my home and my family and can you even BELIEVE I've been up here in this frozen tundra for an entire fucking year? B thinks I have Season Affective Disorder but I told him I have Scituate Affective Disorder because Scituate is in the middle of fucking nowhere and I am 26 years old and want to enjoy my youth damnit! If I want to walk out of my house and get sushi at 3 a.m. on a Tuesday I should be able to do it! You can't even get pizza in Scituate after 9 p.m! On a Friday! I've tried!
Anyway. This post is not about that. This post is about this year. Or rather, last year. 2010 was a crazy year and I am certainly a lot crazier for it. Before we moved, I definitely had a slight flair for dramatics. These days, my crazy runs wide and it runs deep.
As such, my New Years resolution is to find my zen. I'm going to try to chill the fuck out a bit more. And hopefully stop punching B when I'm drunk. And also sober. And I'm going to try stop not saying but not not saying how much better Philly is than Boston. Or, at least, not say it less. Here's to hoping 2011 holds all the wonder we hope! And is slightly less punchy.