Well...this morning I had to take Temp to the vet. Which was kind of difficult because it's a holiday and everything is closed around here. Lucky for me, the vet lives upstairs in the same building. I woke up this morning to the coughs of my dog and soon realized she was coughing up blood. Where I live is almost completely deserted because everyone went on holiday except me and a few other people. I actually had to call a cab and wait to take Temp in. She obviously was not doing well. It's cold out and has been snowing on and off all day. In the car I had a feeling I would not be returning with her. To my surprise the people at the office were very understanding especially since they were not supposed to be open today. We were let into the office and Temp was examined. It's amazing the things that can be understood purely through body language. The doctor looked up at me and simply shook his head and looked at the light green tiles on the floor. I called my friend Hujeong on the phone and asked her to translate for me. We went into another room in the back and the doctor put Temp to sleep while I held her. I didn't have to hold her in place, she wasn't trying to get up or run away. I just had my arm around her and ran my hands over her head and ears. Dogs are big mouth breathers and it's kind of disturbing to witness that breathing stop.
I wish living things died like Yoda in return of the Jedi. He just closed his eyes, stopped breathing and then disappeared. But, that's not the case. There are decisions to be made and a body to deal with. In this case, I have to wait a few days before Temps body can be "processed." Which means burned to ashes and spread in a field somewhere. If she hadn't been throwing up blood and in obvious pain I'm not sure I would have been able to take her in. To be completely honest, I thought Nikki and Paul were going to be the ones to eventually take her in but life always has other plans. I should really have learned that much by now.
Temp was a good dog and I'm going to miss having her around. Even though it was hard to be in that room with her I'm glad I was able to be there. Endings always seem to pass me over in one way or another. It's always been that way for me. I'm either not around or I'm not invited for them. But, this time I had to be in direct control of the outcome. I feel a little guilty but I know it had to be done.
I have been speaking with a lot of people lately on the ol' skype. Just got a skype from a good friend while I'm writing this blog. The more I step back and think about it the more I realize how lucky I am to have good people in my life. I was chatting with an old girlfriend of mine on facebook and we had a really good cyber chat. We've been friends for years now and I still care about her deeply. She still feels the need to give me advice and I gladly take it. I know she has my best interest at heart. She's a good person and it seems like she has found another good soul to share her life with.
If I ever get into therapy again I think I'm going to dig a little deeper into the fact that the majority of my friends are female. I've been doing some good work on my own but it might be helpful to have another voice and a fresh pair of ears that is not connected to my life in any way. Of course my therapist will have to be a woman. I've been speaking with my friends lately about a phenomenon I will call "old man crush" at my work place. In this case, I'm the old man. I will tell you what I've been telling them. I'm not trying to start anything with anyone at this point in time. But, being that I am very attractive, intelligent, funny and of course, humble I do have my admirers. It can't be helped, it's only natural. I'm a social creature and I like to talk to people. But I just don't talk, I also listen, and apparently, there are not a lot of people doing the latter part. I think this is where the old man crush starts. They sense that I'm listening to them because I ask follow up questions. But this isn't some kind of move mind you. I'm just doing what I always do.
Except now I'm extra sensitive to giving people the wrong impressions so I'm upfront with them that I'm not looking for a relationship or intimate company. This statement seems to have the opposite affect however. But I think it is very important not to lead people on. There's nothing worse then thinking someone feels a certain way about you when they actually don't and I don't ever want to do that to someone. Even though it's pretty flattering it's important for me not to lose myself ever again. I am becoming more aware of the kind of people I want to spend my time with and the kind of person I want to share myself with. These women are good people but all I have to offer at this point in my life is friendship and old man stories. I can say, "I remember back in 1985 when....blah blah blah." God I feel old...and yet my body continues to remain young? Good genes I guess.
I just realized I'm making it sound like I have 100's of women pursuing me. Of course that isn't the case, I have three, rather aggressive young ladies, who have expressed interest in me. The oldest one is 26 and the youngest is 22, which is just wrong. I know lots of people don't think a ten year difference is a big deal but I'm of the mindset that that is true once everyone is 30 years or older.
The conversations that I've had in the past month have been awkward at times but I think it's still better than the alternative. I know that honesty, although difficult and uncomfortable sometimes, is the only real choice I have in personal matters. Truth be told, I'm still tired. For now, it is just easier for me to have friends. All that said...I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel good to have people look at me with desire. It feels good to be wanted by someone. I honestly forgot what that feels like.
My time in Korea has really helped to inform me about the kind of person I am. Losing my dog this morning has reminded me that we have a finite amount of time here and I don't want to waste any of it worrying about things I have no control over. All I can do is listen to my heart and do what feels right to me. The rest is space and time.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Am I proud of Barack Obama?
I'm excited that we are going to have a new President of the United States in less than 24 hours. I don't believe that this man with the funny sounding name is a savior for our country. I'm pretty sure he will make mistakes and at times I will disagree with some of his policy decisions. But it feels good to have someone who, so far, has shown character taking the oval office over. It's nice to have a someone who looks more like me than any president in the history of the United States. Am I proud? Honestly...not really. I'm happy. I'm excited, thrilled even. But am I proud? I can't say that I am. I was raised in a household where thinking there would one day be a Black President of the United States was not strange or laughed at. I was brought up in a household that taught me to believe in myself and understand that I was much more than the color of my skin. I learned that I was a combination of peoples, nations and beliefs. I was raised by two parents who did not have the same advantages or family structure they themselves provided for their children.
Am I proud of Barack Obama? I don't know Barack Obama. I know what he represents to me. He represents the moment that the United States decided to open their hearts and minds. The moment that the United States decided to take a huge step forward and walk down a different historical path. I can hear the faint creak of the flood gate as it begins to slowly open up. Once that gate opens up I doubt it will ever be closed again. This truly is a brave new world we are all about to walk into. You can feel the fear and the joy and the excitement all melting together to become something new and unseen until now. Proud is not the word I can use to describe my feelings about Barack Obama. I'm not sure if the right word exist at the moment to describe my feelings. Perhaps there is some song out there that correctly describes my emotions on the matter.
I find that as this transition moves forward thoughts of my own father fill my head. The pride I feel for him is unending and unapologetic. In this moment in history I am more excited for my father than I am for myself. He cleared the path as best he could and my brother and I were able to walk more freely than he ever was. It's easy to take for granted the sacrifices people make so that you might live a more comfortable life. Poor, young, black male from Detroit makes something of himself isn't a unique story but it is the story of my father. It is the story that helped write me into existence and I am proud beyond measure of the accomplishments my dad has made during his life so far.
So if you ask me if I'm proud of Barack Obama I will say "no, but I'm proud of Benjamin C. Williams." I am excited about the new President beyond words. But I am more thrilled that my dad, who grew up in the segregated projects of Detroit Michigan, gets to live in a country where someone like Barack Obama can become its President. I am happy that my dad, a black man who had two sons with his wife, gets to have a little less weight taken off of those tired shoulders. My dad who inhaled one reality and gets to watch his two sons exhale a completely different one.
Am I proud of Barack Obama? I don't know Barack Obama. I know what he represents to me. He represents the moment that the United States decided to open their hearts and minds. The moment that the United States decided to take a huge step forward and walk down a different historical path. I can hear the faint creak of the flood gate as it begins to slowly open up. Once that gate opens up I doubt it will ever be closed again. This truly is a brave new world we are all about to walk into. You can feel the fear and the joy and the excitement all melting together to become something new and unseen until now. Proud is not the word I can use to describe my feelings about Barack Obama. I'm not sure if the right word exist at the moment to describe my feelings. Perhaps there is some song out there that correctly describes my emotions on the matter.
I find that as this transition moves forward thoughts of my own father fill my head. The pride I feel for him is unending and unapologetic. In this moment in history I am more excited for my father than I am for myself. He cleared the path as best he could and my brother and I were able to walk more freely than he ever was. It's easy to take for granted the sacrifices people make so that you might live a more comfortable life. Poor, young, black male from Detroit makes something of himself isn't a unique story but it is the story of my father. It is the story that helped write me into existence and I am proud beyond measure of the accomplishments my dad has made during his life so far.
So if you ask me if I'm proud of Barack Obama I will say "no, but I'm proud of Benjamin C. Williams." I am excited about the new President beyond words. But I am more thrilled that my dad, who grew up in the segregated projects of Detroit Michigan, gets to live in a country where someone like Barack Obama can become its President. I am happy that my dad, a black man who had two sons with his wife, gets to have a little less weight taken off of those tired shoulders. My dad who inhaled one reality and gets to watch his two sons exhale a completely different one.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
It's just feet...
Where to begin? Temp is still alive. Don't think I have the heart to pull the trigger....at least not until I get some things straight with the Vet. Long story short they don't want anyone in the area when the "procedure" is taking place and the fact of the matter is that's just not going to fucking happen. Sorry dude. But if the dog dies the dog dies with my hand rubbing her belly.
Been communicating more with my mom in the past month than I have in the last three years. It's not so bad. Who knew communicating with ones parents could feel good? I guess it doesn't really matter how old I get there will always be that childlike dynamic between me and my folks. I always think to myself "Why do they still treat me like a child?" but the answer to that question isn't really that difficult to answer. I am their child. I know, I know, I'm going to be 33 years old soon and I just figured that out. I can be slow sometimes.
What else? Oh, I've lost about 10 pounds probably more like 15 due to the fact that I've been sick more in this country than I've been healthy. I am left with only one conclusion and that conclusion is that Korean germs and viruses don't like black Americans. My buddy Dave can't stop getting sick either and we are sensing some kind of conspiracy. I am a student of history after all. I can't get sick again. Seriously, I'll snap. I will snap if I get sick again. I forgot what it's like to be able to breath out of my nose for more than two weeks at a time. And...some of you are not going to believe what I'm about to say but...I don't look good this thin! I know. I can't believe it either, but it's true. I need to gain my weight back.
Today, we are starting week three of the month long kids program at my work place. It's kind of nice getting to know these little ones. They are so smart. Some of them are really poor though and it's been pretty damn cold here lately. They only brought two pairs of clothes, non of which are that warm. So we have to come up with interesting ways of giving them warmer clothes. They won't just take it from, so one day for my group I had a writing contest and the top 5 winners (there are five kids in my house alone that needed jackets) won a "special prize." It was really funny cause these kids actually wrote pretty good stories and amazingly enough the top 5 winners happened to be the kids who needed the jackets. It was pretty funny, but they took those jackets. It's funny how hard it is to help people sometimes. It's like we are set up to deny help from others. I'm the same way, I'm learning still to take a hand when it's offered.
I have a massage appointment with the best freaking masseuse on the planet back in Portland on May 27Th and I will be counting down the days. Seriously, if I ever get rich I'm going to hire Luna to be my personal masseuse and I will pay her whatever she asks. She's that good folks!
I have a place that I'm going to sublet from a friend when I get back to Portland. The timing could not be better cause I was not looking forward to searching for a place to live over the summer. She is leaving town to recharge and reflect and I am moving back to town to remember and reconnect. Couldn't have worked out much better than that. Of course, I don't move in until the beginning of June which means my good friend Alex D gets to have me as a house guest for a couple of weeks. I know he's just as excited as I am. I can't wait to have Anya paint me. She's always wanted to do a nude of me and now we will finally have the time to make that happen. Al will of course be at work while I'm lying naked on his couch as his girlfriend paints me. By the way Al, I guess Anya is going to need to rub oil on my skin so that my muscles pop more...you're cool with that though right? For those of you who don't know yet, Al has decided to stop talking to me and only communicates through random emails. The thing is these emails are written in Italian so I don't understand what he's saying to me. I'm pretty sure he is calling me racial slurs however. This is the guy who is picking me up at the airport in May when I touch down by the way. Al, I don't speak or understand Italian so stop writing me in Italian!!!
Anyways, life is pretty much moving along in the ROK (Republic of Korea). It's been cold so there has not been much traveling going on. My mood is somewhat more stable or at least the way I'm looking at life seems to be leveling off. I talk it out with myself. If you could watch me for a day you might think I hear voices or something cause I spend a lot of time talking to myself. I work things out that way. Some of my friends here are beginning to notice that I have a lot of inner dialogue going on with myself and they look at me with raised eye brows at times.
I downloaded a new picture editing program the other night and was going through some of my pictures. Pictures are amazing little time capsules aren't they? Fucking pictures. By the way, one of my New Years resolutions was to stop swearing so much. How am I doing? I was talking to one of my good friends over skype last night and she likes to secretly therapize me and I allow her to think I don't know she's doing it. Anyways, we were talking about life and all that jazz and after I got off the phone with her I felt like editing some of the photos I have saved on my hard drive. So I'm going through these photos and I realized that I don't take a lot of pictures. I never did and I don't now. I mean, I'm in other peoples photos but I don't really take photos myself. But the photos I have taken have been gathering dust in the jail cell of laptop.
So I'm going through these photos and they all consist of Danielle and my friends from Portland. Some of these photos I used to have in my facebook albums but I deleted them all in dramatic fashion after "the break up." What's funny about my deletion of all my albums on facebook was that it wasn't even done in anger and I got rid of all my photos. All of them. Not just the ones with me and that beautiful little creature known as Battee. I got rid of all of them! Why am I such a drama queen? I don't know. But I am. I am a huge, big, fat, large, giant drama queen. Please feel free to contact me and argue this point. So, needless to say I have not seen or thought about a lot of these photos in a long time. But I'm looking through these photos and I started to remember how much fun I had with my Portland buddies. I miss you guys (except you Alex). I miss hanging out and chatting and having dinner with you all. I am thrilled to be coming home and spend my summer days and nights with you guys (except you Alex).
Then I found one of my favorite pictures I've ever taken. It's a simple photo and there's nothing very artistic about it at all. It's just a picture of my feet and Danielle's feet on a chair in an airport. It's just feet but it still brings a smile to my face. Fucking pictures.
I realized then and there that I'm not "going evil" this summer, whatever that actually meant in the first place? It's not who I am. I'm not evil. I'm not mean. I'm actually a pretty decent guy. I talk a lot and I think deeply about things. I love to laugh and I enjoy listening to people tell stories. I enjoy my friends and I hate Alex Deussen. I'm just this intelligent, handsome, funny, awesome dude who loves life! That's me. Talk to you all soon.
Been communicating more with my mom in the past month than I have in the last three years. It's not so bad. Who knew communicating with ones parents could feel good? I guess it doesn't really matter how old I get there will always be that childlike dynamic between me and my folks. I always think to myself "Why do they still treat me like a child?" but the answer to that question isn't really that difficult to answer. I am their child. I know, I know, I'm going to be 33 years old soon and I just figured that out. I can be slow sometimes.
What else? Oh, I've lost about 10 pounds probably more like 15 due to the fact that I've been sick more in this country than I've been healthy. I am left with only one conclusion and that conclusion is that Korean germs and viruses don't like black Americans. My buddy Dave can't stop getting sick either and we are sensing some kind of conspiracy. I am a student of history after all. I can't get sick again. Seriously, I'll snap. I will snap if I get sick again. I forgot what it's like to be able to breath out of my nose for more than two weeks at a time. And...some of you are not going to believe what I'm about to say but...I don't look good this thin! I know. I can't believe it either, but it's true. I need to gain my weight back.
Today, we are starting week three of the month long kids program at my work place. It's kind of nice getting to know these little ones. They are so smart. Some of them are really poor though and it's been pretty damn cold here lately. They only brought two pairs of clothes, non of which are that warm. So we have to come up with interesting ways of giving them warmer clothes. They won't just take it from, so one day for my group I had a writing contest and the top 5 winners (there are five kids in my house alone that needed jackets) won a "special prize." It was really funny cause these kids actually wrote pretty good stories and amazingly enough the top 5 winners happened to be the kids who needed the jackets. It was pretty funny, but they took those jackets. It's funny how hard it is to help people sometimes. It's like we are set up to deny help from others. I'm the same way, I'm learning still to take a hand when it's offered.
I have a massage appointment with the best freaking masseuse on the planet back in Portland on May 27Th and I will be counting down the days. Seriously, if I ever get rich I'm going to hire Luna to be my personal masseuse and I will pay her whatever she asks. She's that good folks!
I have a place that I'm going to sublet from a friend when I get back to Portland. The timing could not be better cause I was not looking forward to searching for a place to live over the summer. She is leaving town to recharge and reflect and I am moving back to town to remember and reconnect. Couldn't have worked out much better than that. Of course, I don't move in until the beginning of June which means my good friend Alex D gets to have me as a house guest for a couple of weeks. I know he's just as excited as I am. I can't wait to have Anya paint me. She's always wanted to do a nude of me and now we will finally have the time to make that happen. Al will of course be at work while I'm lying naked on his couch as his girlfriend paints me. By the way Al, I guess Anya is going to need to rub oil on my skin so that my muscles pop more...you're cool with that though right? For those of you who don't know yet, Al has decided to stop talking to me and only communicates through random emails. The thing is these emails are written in Italian so I don't understand what he's saying to me. I'm pretty sure he is calling me racial slurs however. This is the guy who is picking me up at the airport in May when I touch down by the way. Al, I don't speak or understand Italian so stop writing me in Italian!!!
Anyways, life is pretty much moving along in the ROK (Republic of Korea). It's been cold so there has not been much traveling going on. My mood is somewhat more stable or at least the way I'm looking at life seems to be leveling off. I talk it out with myself. If you could watch me for a day you might think I hear voices or something cause I spend a lot of time talking to myself. I work things out that way. Some of my friends here are beginning to notice that I have a lot of inner dialogue going on with myself and they look at me with raised eye brows at times.
I downloaded a new picture editing program the other night and was going through some of my pictures. Pictures are amazing little time capsules aren't they? Fucking pictures. By the way, one of my New Years resolutions was to stop swearing so much. How am I doing? I was talking to one of my good friends over skype last night and she likes to secretly therapize me and I allow her to think I don't know she's doing it. Anyways, we were talking about life and all that jazz and after I got off the phone with her I felt like editing some of the photos I have saved on my hard drive. So I'm going through these photos and I realized that I don't take a lot of pictures. I never did and I don't now. I mean, I'm in other peoples photos but I don't really take photos myself. But the photos I have taken have been gathering dust in the jail cell of laptop.
So I'm going through these photos and they all consist of Danielle and my friends from Portland. Some of these photos I used to have in my facebook albums but I deleted them all in dramatic fashion after "the break up." What's funny about my deletion of all my albums on facebook was that it wasn't even done in anger and I got rid of all my photos. All of them. Not just the ones with me and that beautiful little creature known as Battee. I got rid of all of them! Why am I such a drama queen? I don't know. But I am. I am a huge, big, fat, large, giant drama queen. Please feel free to contact me and argue this point. So, needless to say I have not seen or thought about a lot of these photos in a long time. But I'm looking through these photos and I started to remember how much fun I had with my Portland buddies. I miss you guys (except you Alex). I miss hanging out and chatting and having dinner with you all. I am thrilled to be coming home and spend my summer days and nights with you guys (except you Alex).
Then I found one of my favorite pictures I've ever taken. It's a simple photo and there's nothing very artistic about it at all. It's just a picture of my feet and Danielle's feet on a chair in an airport. It's just feet but it still brings a smile to my face. Fucking pictures.
I realized then and there that I'm not "going evil" this summer, whatever that actually meant in the first place? It's not who I am. I'm not evil. I'm not mean. I'm actually a pretty decent guy. I talk a lot and I think deeply about things. I love to laugh and I enjoy listening to people tell stories. I enjoy my friends and I hate Alex Deussen. I'm just this intelligent, handsome, funny, awesome dude who loves life! That's me. Talk to you all soon.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
The Ponytail Kisser
I had to work until 9pm on New Years Eve. For those of us working that day there was an interesting energy in the air. It felt like any other day and in many ways it was. It's the beginning of a month long teaching program and the kids (800 of them) who's parents signed them up got here on Monday. Usually we recycle through the kids every week, but we have these little gems for a whole month and I'm actually looking forward to getting to know this bunch a little better than one week provides. So, I ended my work night last night doing an activity with about 45 kids. The plan was to hurry up after work, jump on the bus to Seoul, and find a group of friends who were already there. But after signing out I looked at my two good friends and I knew none of us wanted to do anything. We laughed and decided we were going home. No one felt like hanging out.
I got a couple drunk phone calls from friends like "Where the fuck are you?" and "Awww, man you guys suck!" but over all I think I spent my last New Years Eve in South Korea with good company. It was just me and Temp. She now lays on the lower half of my body when I type on my laptop. I think she enjoys the sound of the keys pressing down. I was busy working on a short story and didn't realize I had missed the count down. Before I knew it the time read 12:10am and 2009 had moved into my apartment like a shadow. I did manage to get a kiss from Temp though and that was good enough for me.
I spoke to a lot of my friends today back in the U.S. getting ready for the New Years Eve experience. It sounds like most of them are taking it pretty easy. I told one of them that New Years Eve parties are for people ages 18-28 and 45-100. So I'm stuck in the "engh,whatever." phase with New Years Eve for the next decade or so. I love the way certain holidays give people free reign to let all their inhibitions out and party like a rock star.
Today (Jan. 1st) is my friends birthday and she went out last night. She was one of the people calling me late into the night hurling insults for my "no show" into the city. I was looking for her today and she was no where to be found. Then I ran into one of her friends who was laughing while looking at a camera. I asked her what was so funny and she said that my friend was still passed out (it was 2:30PM) underneath her bed. Turns she got back around 4am in the morning and walked into this girls room and crawled under her bed and went to sleep or rather passed out. I was on my break and although I thought the image was a funny one I wanted to make sure she was not lying dead in her own vomit. We walked back up to her friends apartment and there lay my friend, eyes closed and slowly breathing away. She was fully clothed (this included her winter jacket and hat) and decked out in thick, bright make-up. It was both horrifying and comical at the same time.
I lay on the floor and whispered her name. A slight smile started to form on her greasy face. I said, "Hey...are you alright?" She didn't say anything but slowly shook her head up and down. At the sight of this her friend started to laugh and I couldn't help but laugh too. I said, "OK, do you wanna keep sleeping here?" She shook her head up and down again and chuckled a little bit. I started to get up from the floor but decided to ask her one last question. I said, "Did you have a good time last night?" There was no movement for a while and I considered the possibility that she just died. But after a moment she started to speak for the first time. With her eyes still closed and what was now a wide smile on her face she said, "I kissed a boy who had a ponytail and was wearing skinny jeans." She giggled and both her friend and I started laughing out of control. I congratulated her on getting some action and then her friend walked me to the door. Her little story made the rest of my day.
Although I'm sure she woke up with quite the hangover it seemed like she had a great time for her New Years. I hope all of you had a wonderful time welcoming 2009 into existence. I hope you brought the New Year in with people (or animals) you love and/or care about. I'm wishing everyone in my life has 365 days that are filled with adventure, growth, surprise and wonder.
I got a couple drunk phone calls from friends like "Where the fuck are you?" and "Awww, man you guys suck!" but over all I think I spent my last New Years Eve in South Korea with good company. It was just me and Temp. She now lays on the lower half of my body when I type on my laptop. I think she enjoys the sound of the keys pressing down. I was busy working on a short story and didn't realize I had missed the count down. Before I knew it the time read 12:10am and 2009 had moved into my apartment like a shadow. I did manage to get a kiss from Temp though and that was good enough for me.
I spoke to a lot of my friends today back in the U.S. getting ready for the New Years Eve experience. It sounds like most of them are taking it pretty easy. I told one of them that New Years Eve parties are for people ages 18-28 and 45-100. So I'm stuck in the "engh,whatever." phase with New Years Eve for the next decade or so. I love the way certain holidays give people free reign to let all their inhibitions out and party like a rock star.
Today (Jan. 1st) is my friends birthday and she went out last night. She was one of the people calling me late into the night hurling insults for my "no show" into the city. I was looking for her today and she was no where to be found. Then I ran into one of her friends who was laughing while looking at a camera. I asked her what was so funny and she said that my friend was still passed out (it was 2:30PM) underneath her bed. Turns she got back around 4am in the morning and walked into this girls room and crawled under her bed and went to sleep or rather passed out. I was on my break and although I thought the image was a funny one I wanted to make sure she was not lying dead in her own vomit. We walked back up to her friends apartment and there lay my friend, eyes closed and slowly breathing away. She was fully clothed (this included her winter jacket and hat) and decked out in thick, bright make-up. It was both horrifying and comical at the same time.
I lay on the floor and whispered her name. A slight smile started to form on her greasy face. I said, "Hey...are you alright?" She didn't say anything but slowly shook her head up and down. At the sight of this her friend started to laugh and I couldn't help but laugh too. I said, "OK, do you wanna keep sleeping here?" She shook her head up and down again and chuckled a little bit. I started to get up from the floor but decided to ask her one last question. I said, "Did you have a good time last night?" There was no movement for a while and I considered the possibility that she just died. But after a moment she started to speak for the first time. With her eyes still closed and what was now a wide smile on her face she said, "I kissed a boy who had a ponytail and was wearing skinny jeans." She giggled and both her friend and I started laughing out of control. I congratulated her on getting some action and then her friend walked me to the door. Her little story made the rest of my day.
Although I'm sure she woke up with quite the hangover it seemed like she had a great time for her New Years. I hope all of you had a wonderful time welcoming 2009 into existence. I hope you brought the New Year in with people (or animals) you love and/or care about. I'm wishing everyone in my life has 365 days that are filled with adventure, growth, surprise and wonder.
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