In like a lion, out like an atomic bomb...

I was anticipating a pleasant, quiet end to 2009. In like a lion, out like a lamb. But apparently, my tiny existence is a super-conductor for tumult, like pepper to a tiger (as opposed to cinnamon.) I've been on hiatus from work for eleven days, and accomplished none of the goals I set for myself over the break. I don't feel as ashamed of this as I should, because a proverbial clean slate is less than 48 hours away. I know that New Year's resolutions are cliche and often ineffective, but right now, I welcome the prospect of self-granted absolution and another shot at "getting it right." Of course, I realize that when the clock strikes twelve on New Year's Day, I'm not going to pass through any imaginary archway, or be dipped in cleansing waters. I will be the same me that I was when the clock chimed midnight on January 1st, 2009, albeit this year a more sober one - in multiple contexts of the word.

My thoughts have been incredibly nondescript over the past twenty-four hours - just a series of racing images and bold-face words pulsating in giant, neon letters. As a matter of fact, this half-hearted attempt at a year-end retrospective is really just a futile ploy to keep my mind occupied. A year ago, I would already be twelve bottles deep and getting ready to inventory the damaged property left in my wake. Fortunately, I've apparently outgrown mindless self-destruction as a coping mechanism. Let's face it, drinking myself blind and re-enacting Balboa-Creed II with every breakable, inanimate object in my apartment never really killed the pain.

So maybe I have change a bit from 28 to 29. I certainly feel older, I can tell you that. And, although I have occasionally caught myself praying for the petty problems and dramatized angst of my youth, I feel like I've embraced the reality in which I exist, and have done so with a fair amount of success. All things considered, I'm happy. I'm working within the career of my choice, and I'm making the rent every month. I know that it's sad when making the rent is the barometer for success, but we all know times are tough. Regardless, I sit here trying to put words to the lessons 2009 has taught me - the things I've lost and gained - and the things that I look forward to in 2010.

As far as what I've lost, the first thing would be the death-grip I held on the past. I still look back on certain times in my life with fond memory, and an appreciation of what they meant to me, but gone are the desires to re-live or re-create them. Those places and those people are not the same as they were when I existed in and among them. So I let them go. I'm afraid I've lost my touch as a writer, but I think what I've really lost is the willingness to bleed out every last bit of emotion and personal business onto a digital page for the entire world (or at least other bloggers and Facebook followers) to read. I realize the irony of that statement as I blog away a mile-a-minute here, but I feel like these ramblings are far more discreet. Rest assured, I do my most personal bleeding the old fashioned way - with a pen and paper. And finally, I may have just recently lost something far more valuable than anything I could possibly express in written words, and if I have... well, suffice to say that all then pens and paper in every Staples, Office Max and Target in the state of Florida wouldn't provide a big enough canvas for all I'll have to bleed out.

All things considered, I think my gains outnumber my losses in 2009 (thus far, anyway.) Above all else, I gained perspective. I gained perspective on some of the relationships I've formed, and how best to manage them. I gained perspective on my actions, their consequences and the type of person I want to be. You can't put a value on that kind of self-awareness. It's funny how a single incident can change your outlook on things; whether it's a drunken night full of bad decisions, or even a night spent in jail. I experienced both this past year, and both of those instances profoundly changed my perspective.

When I said that I gained perspective "above all else," that wasn't quite correct. I gained something far greater. Gained isn't even the right word. More like discovered. I discovered the reason I came to Florida. I honestly believe that. I've been here for the better part of three years, and I wanted to be back in New York within the first month. I tried a couple of times, and damn near made the jump last summer. I couldn't figure out why things had worked out the way they did - why I was still here - until the end of the summer, when I had my moment of clarity. I found a reason. That reason is blonde, beautiful, and the kindest, most gentle soul I have ever encountered in my twenty-nine years. Never have I found more pleasure in simply waking up in the morning and living life than in the days since I first looked into the clearest, bluest eyes in Florida. Never have I met someone who has been more accepting of my little quirks and idiosyncrasies, none of which I felt compelled to hide from her. Those who have known me for a long time might know me as a bit of a hopeless romantic, albeit a fairly unsuccessful one. Those same people might also realize that I've been prone to over-romanticize certain things, limbs flailing with my heart recklessly pinned to the edge of my sleeve. I realize this. But I can tell you that this is no dramatization. There's no hyperbole here. The end of 2009 threatens me with the loss of something irreplaceable. A wise friend told me this morning that "we leave pieces with everyone who walks away." If that is the case, the piece I will be losing will contain my essence - everything that's good in me. The thought is too much to bear.

Onto lighter fare... 2009 was a pretty weak year for music. Rancid put out a phenomenal album, and a lot of other bands I like offered up records that range from pedestrian to highly listenable. My best musical experience of the year was probably seeing The Gaslight Anthem at The Social. It's been a long time since a band has moved me the way their music does.

I've certainly had my high's and low's this year. Some of it I wouldn't trade for the world, while I'd return other parts of it faster than a bad tie or a pair of argyle socks. As I count the seconds to the start of a new year - seconds that feel like hours - I can only close my eyes, be grateful for what I've been given, pray that I haven't squandered it or foolishly thrown it away, and hope for the best in 2010.