Now Experiencing Technical Difficulties

The two-week silence has been caused by massive internet retardedness at my house. Apparently the technicians have taken turns breaking different parts of the modem, so since the beginning of January the connection had been spotty at best before finally dying about a week ago. I'm enjoying a temporary spotty moment before it dies again. Coming up... Resolutions, Church, The Big Move.

Let's Recap

This is something that I saw on a website and thought it was pretty interesting. Well, it saves me from any soulsearching about what exactly I've done for the past year. The premise is that you take the first few sentences from the first post from each month over the last year. It is kind of interesting to see how your year has evolved or hasn't, how I have changed... or haven't.

2005
january
Being terrifically tired, Travis and I decided to watch the South Park marathon on Comedy Central to ring in the new year. Somewhere about 11:30 we fell asleep.

february
I got my haircut at way-too-trendy-for-you-so-don't-even-think-about-it Juan Por Dios! again this morning. My attempts to shmooze with the locals are endless.

march
I realize that I haven't said anything in a few days, and certainly nothing substantial in about a week. Things have been very hectic, very scary, and very exciting. Remind me to tell you about my job, to spill the gossip on new Spanish events, and to stop eating so many hot dogs.

april
Open Letter to the waitress at La Musa, Too Trendy For Me Restaurant:
I'm terribly sorry that I saw fit to return the steaming pile of fish that you placed in front of me, but it wasn't without great internal struggle. You see, as you neared me with the plate, even from far away I could tell that there was, of course, a head clearly attached to the fish.

may
Thanks be to the curative power of the sun. The temperature has risen and risen and finally, after months of winter, the sun has broken through.

june
He's got really thick glasses. When he shifts his gaze from his feet to his surroundings, he looks like a fish. He opens his mouth and closes it intermittently, blowing bubbles of nonsense words. He mutters to himself a bit. I see this man nearly everyday; he walks up and down my street.

july
Names I´m Called By The Children At Camp
Team
Deem
Bean
Ping

august
The camp bubble has burst, and I've landed unceremoniously in the real world. As the dust settled a bit, I've found that it's a bit anticlimactic to be back.

september
The plane ride home was uneventful, although I was slightly afraid that the girl next to me was going to either cough up her lung or die (or both). She continually apologized for the 8-hour cough, and I said "Don't worry. But really, are you okay?" because at that point I was afraid she was going to pass the bubonic plague on to me.

october
I arrived in Spain jetlagged and suntanned from my time in the States, and was immediately greeted by friend Jerritt, who had come to visit for a week. The next few days were a whirlwind of exhaustion and tourist sights for me, but altogether extremely fun.

november
Observation: Maybe you didn't find my class interesting. Maybe you were still a little upset that I told that no, you couldn't bring in cookies to class or drink your piping hot tea from a mug. To my credit, I did cave in and let you sip from a more conservative plastic cup and I even let you sit right next to my desk (an odd request from you, really).

december
The lights are up all around Madrid now, and I've been walking the streets with Travis and sighing contently.

2006

Over dinner I ask Adam and January (my official cohorts for the night) what their New Year's resolutions are. I spring this on them suddenly, so they're caught off guard and as such are unable to really come up with good resolutions. I've got a few fermenting in my mind, but when January and Adam decide not to turn the question back on me I leave my resolutions to simmer a while. I figure they'll be ready for a more official unveiling in a few days.

But it's not the resolutions we are all thinking about, really. In one of those pregnant pauses that happen periodically between friends, each person caught between choosing words and discarting others, January speaks up. She remembers an old superstition that I told her about, taught to me by a girl named Devon in Prague, who learned it from her mother in Connecticut. The idea is simple -- whatever you're doing at 12:00 a.m., whoever you're with, whatever is happening, that is how your new year will be. Surrounded by friends? You will be surrounded by friends. Watching the South Park marathon, falling asleep? A year of inaction (my particular fate last year).

Two hours later, January and I stuff our faces full of grapes in traditional Spanish style. We hold our grapes in our hands, waiting to hear the countdown 10! 9! 8! 7!... Instead, the countdown starts at 5! 4! 3!... and January and I hastily shove grapes down our gullets in an attempt to eat them all by the New Year. It's almost impossible, since I'm laughing so hard. January smiles at me, and a grape falls out of her mouth. The world around us explodes, the flash of cameras, people begin to kiss, to sing, someone throws confetti, and the world is sparkling, new.

I think that's a pretty good way to start the new year.