go fuck yourself, 2009

I started writing here almost a year ago, at the beginning of what would turn out to be a very challenging era in my life. January and February brought my unwilling participation in the Great Uterus Adventure, followed by months of bitterly cold weather and a summer that never really happened. My grandfather died, who was the relative outside of my immediate family to whom I was closest, as did my parents' cat that had at one time been my cat. My boyfriend lost his job and has yet to find a new one, and we almost had to get married in June so that he could afford his anti coagulant medication and contact lenses. The Minnesota Twins' performance was once again laughably underwhelming, and the Notre Dame Fightin' Irish football team made me want to punch a nun. My kitty got sick, and in a fit of panic and fear of losing yet another something important, I willingly shelled out whatever the vet asked for in performing a series of procedures that turned out to be detrimental and consequently found myself with $20 to my name (aside from retirement savings) with two weeks to go until Christmas. A bunch of public idiots said a bunch of stupid shit, and a bunch of private idiots realized that they, too, could become public idiots if only the shit they said and did was stupid enough.

I did some cool stuff this year-- my first time in Mexico City, I succeeded in not getting fired, my brother's wedding was a bucket of fun. I listened to some good music and I learned how to cook and I became a little less afraid of everything. I met people that I like, I left people that I didn't like, and my friend Mrs. K and I cooked Thanksgiving dinner for 10 people and nothing was a disaster. I wrote a decent amount and managed to keep my apartment in a state above chaos. I haven't totally given up on going to the gym and I have succeeded in living on this earth for 26 years without catching an STD. Hooray for those things.

I feel sort of like how Luke Skywalker must have felt at the end of The Empire Strikes Back. I may be sporting a weird robotic hand and completely freaked out to discover that my mortal enemy is my biological father, but at least I'm not dead, and I'm excited for 2010, which I hope ends up being a Return of the Jedi type year.