A Love Letter to the Passing Year

Dear 2012,

I think you have been the craziest year yet in my life. When I wrote this same letter to your predecessor last year, I was in my Brooklyn apartment, waiting for it to snow. Now, I’m spending my first Christmas on the West Coast in three years. Life is incredibly unpredictable but I’m finally figuring out that the randomness is what makes it all beautiful.

I can’t believe how much I did this year. Moved across the country. Had my first, heart-yanked-out-of-my-chest break-up. Was blessed with the world’s greatest roommate. Lost jobs. Got in touch with old friends and watched new relationships blossom. Man, oh man- I even joined a freaking softball team (all we do is win, win, win no matter what!). I never, in a million years, thought life would turn out this way. This magical, insane way. It’s almost like watching Criss Angel perform a trick, upside down, in mid-air…

I never thought that playing with shelter kittens could bring me so much simple joy (same with walking shelter pups).
I never thought I would celebrate Passover (such awkward fun).
I never thought brownies and bacon would make a delicious combination.
I never thought I would leave New York, especially to go back to Nevada.
I never thought I would date the men I dated (and that I’d become so obsessed with beards, Irish accents and ink- full sleeves, all the way, baby).
I never thought my grandmother would get the sick the way that she did.
I never thought I would fall in love with social work and want to care for homeless people. I never really thought I’d care for anybody that way, really.
I never thought me and my mom would get so close.
I never thought President Obama would be re-elected (I’m so happy that he did!)
I never thought I would have the motivation to sit down and write a book.
I never thought I would finally start loving my body.
Heck, I never thought that I would want to finish school.

I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you. Thank you for everything. All the fun (working out in my teeny BedStuy living room with Clarissa). All wonderful people I met (having my male roommates and their friends teach me how to “shotgun” a beer). All the trouble I found myself in. Even for that awful night in Bushwick where I sobbed all night and chucked my red umbrella off the subway platform (thanks for holding my hand the entire time, BB). Thanks for all the great hair and skin days (and all the compliments about my fancy footwear)! Thanks for my terrific family and friends who care for me and support my random ideas and adventures (and who came to my Sunday brunches to happily eat my cooking). Thank you to wine and other alcohol- you made some nights a 1000x better and more memorable. Thanks to the great new music that moved me during my solo dance parties and in bounce houses at raves (the night I was introduced to dubstep is one of my fondest memories of both New York and the year). Thank you all for giving me the opportunity to discover and grow (massive shout out to Eunice who gave me her Mac!).

Earlier this the month, I sat at a coffee shop near campus and wrote about the joys 2013 will bring. My mom tells me this often, but I do feel like 2013 will finally be my year. I will be braver about the choices I make every day, be more positive and encouraging toward myself and others and have A LOT more fun. That is a promise. Promise! Promise! Promise! Remember what Myrtle told you and Brittney that one afternoon at In N’Out, Andrea: “Life is short.” Rihanna said to shine bright like a diamond and shining bright I shall do. You CAN choose to be happy.

2012, you were, in the words of Samantha Jones (my fictional hero), FABULOUS. Drama and all (seriously, what was with that Mayan apocalypse baloney?). 2013 will certainly give you a run for your money. And hopefully next year, there will be more romance, tattoos and (pretty please) Ryan Gosling movies.

Thanks for the memories and lots of love,


Our Lives

Be happy!“The useless days will add up to something. The shitty waitressing jobs. The hours writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and story collections and novels and dead people’s diaries and wondering about sex and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming…” -Cheryl Strayed ♥