"I am a man who, sauntering along without fully stopping, turns a casual look upon you, and then averts his face
Leaving it to you to prove and define it, expecting the main things from you"
"We either make ourselves miserable or we make ourselves strong. The amount of work is the same."
"These quotes remind me of us. The first one is mine, because I'm so passive. The second one is yours, because, well, you're making yourself strong and I idolize you."
This is an excerpt from a hand-written letter I received today, from my friend in Baltimore. She makes me feel good. So good, in fact, that I feel it dangerously teetering into addiction territory. But there are healthy addictions, right? Like exercise? Or multiple orgasms? At any rate how could this possibly end in tears? At the end of each of our interactions she tells me she loves me. Just last week she told me she wants me to be the first person to give her an orgasm (!) (she's 24).
Shit. I probably shouldn't think about that too long or I won't be able to focus and finish this daylog.
I was going to do a year in review type thing, but then I realized one need look no further than my entire tenure thus far here at E2 to get that. Instead I suppose I'll muse idly on this subject of the transition from one year to the next, resolutions, and getting shitfaced.
In the barest, most logic-bound terms, a year is nothing more than a name for the 365 day period it takes the Earth to revolve around the Sun. For us humans it literally is just another day. In the cosmic sense 365 days, when compared to the 4.6 billion years the universe has been in existence, is like a fraction of a fraction of a second on a proportionate human scale. Hardly enough time for any major changes to occur, or rather, be noticeable or permanent.
On a more sociological/psychological level, the ritual of getting drunk on New Year's Eve could be examined on a deeper level. I have spent the past week bitching about how this year sucked and it can't be over fast enough, and how even though I was invited to many parties I decided to stay home this evening because this was hardly a year to celebrate. "Well, Chris, I think you're actually supposed to celebrate the upcoming year," my roommate explained. "You already celebrated this year in 2009."
"And look how well that turned out," I shot back. Honestly, though, I think we're both right. Most of us fall squarely into one of two camps; spending New Year's Eve reflecting back on the year's events, both good and bad, or just giving the finger to the whole thing and looking forward to starting anew the next morning. I think I'll play it safe, mutter an obligatory quip about how this year can't possibly be worse than the last, and return to my brooding reflection.
I've already talked about the "one day at a time" mantra of AA. It exists because every 24 hour period placed on a time line for a goal increases its chance for failure. That's why I think the concept of a new year's resolution is flawed. I think a better resolution is to do one good turn a day. Change one thing about yourself, break a habit, try something new, just for a day. That's the only length of time you're ever obligated to at any given time anyway. If it sticks, great. If not, maybe you need to re-evaluate why you wanted to make it in the first place.
Tonight my friend in Baltimore is ringing in the new year in a halfway house. She finally got serious about how much she was drinking, she said, incidentally around the same time I said the same thing. She's been sober for about two months. And she says she idolizes me.
My roommate just walked in and informed me that my phone is apparently "blowing the fuck up" with texts. That can't be good, but for now I'm not going to deal with it. For now I'm going to sit here and read the inspirational quotes my friend sent me and wait for, but not think about, tomorrow. I'm not yet done with this 24 hours. And I'm certainly not expending any energy to make myself miserable.