I can't believe tomorrow I am exiting my 20s forever. I feel like I'm about to get onto a boat, sail away to a faraway place, never to return to the era of drama, uncertainty, partying and pain that defined my most definitive decade.
I remember every moment clearly ... my 21st b-day in New Orleans, when I had dyed black hair and had to beg everyone in the French Quarter to check my ID ... my red-headed 27th birthday right after Washington Interns Gone Bad came out... my 24th birthday where I had cramps so bad I had to leave dinner and eat vicoden instead.
What a decade! I managed to not get married, stay 120 pounds after losing and gaining and losing again, hook up with lots of ... job opportunities, and meet some amazing people. Meanwhile, I started several bands, fetched my master's degree and at one point chopped my long bleachy locks into a bob. I partied all night at raves, endured loads of pain, saw Amsterdam, partied in England, froze my butt off in San Francisco, jogged in San Diego, took two cross-country road trips, lived in four major cities (Chicago, D.C., New Orleans, New York), fell in love multiple times, ate lots of chocolate, quit eating chocolate, watched tons of reality TV, lived in tons of apartments, got clips published in the Washington Post and The Village Voice, mastered guitar, became a singer, gained lots of friends, loved my family, enjoyed my grandparents.
That's about it. So I raise my glass to the new decade, the time when my sex drive is supposed to peak. And love will flourish with it.
Feb. 28, 2006
It's the end of February, with March just over the horizon ...
I survived six months in New York!!
Hard to believe, considering my rent and bills force $1,800 out of my pockets each month, forcing me to use Clairol and free haircuts at Bumble and Bumble, not to mention scaling back my manicures.
I was probably too shallow to begin with, however. This is just a sign from the goddess that some things are more important than material excesses. And manicures are, even at $20 with a pedicure combo, excesses.
I'm taking a few days off, headed to D.C. to do a story for The Washington Post. (yes, that Washington Post!) and see my family/friends. I don't know why this visit is filling me with dread -- the story will be exciting. Friends and family will be even more exciting. Nonetheless, I'm not looking forward to leaving my home. Yes, that's right. MY HOME. NEW YORK!!
Never thought this city of pavement would feel so warm, so right. My "gut" had always felt uneasy when I imagined living here. I almost didn't want to leave Chicago, but for my friends Doro and Kendra, and Matt, who convinced me to transplant. Now, half a year later, so much has happened.
I'd love to hear what inspires other people to come here, so if you have an inspiring story (or three), send them my way.