This Time Last Year

February 4th, 2009

I've been bad at keeping up with my friends blogs. When I do peek in now and then, it always makes me feel like I should only blog when something eventful happens. I feel like i'm still living in the world of the live-journal. The world of the time capsule.

I am going to bore you with a train of thought I had on the walk home from work. I relocated a calendar today to a more visible spot in the office and caught wind of todays significance... last year. I panicked slightly at even the thought that I would forget such a thing, but, as quickly as I upset, I was disappointed that I still cared. It's snowing again, here in New York. It has snowed at least once a week since I have returned from Texas / since 2009 began. And on the walk home I passed by a friends apartment. She lives on the second story, and I know her window in the least creepy way possible. I remembered how much I cared about her, and her significance in my life. Five years ago I did everything in my power just to be in the same room as her, and now, a block away, I feel nothing. She is the same person, maybe more defined. Just as pretty, just as flaky. Just as interesting, and just as intimidating. I had such a grand design for her continuing existence in my life. I wanted to learn things, be inspired. I am as close as I will ever be to this girl, and I do nothing. She does nothing as well, for she is the same person. The same person who calls me when she needs to have someone cat sit, but not when she needs a friend. Which is fine, I am reliable, devoted, and eager to please. Have I changed? Am I the same person, just slightly defined?

This time last year I was driving my band's van through the western portion of Texas, cracking my knuckles over and over and over again. The drive was 17 hours, and I did almost 12 of them. I was nervous, you see. I was torn between the choice of letting sleeping dogs lie, and taking a chance on calling this girl I met, a few months prior. I liked her. She told me she liked me too, but not enough to pretend I wasn't too far away. This would be my last tour, I knew that much for sure. This would probably be my last chance to call her, and see what it all meant. So I did, and left a nervous voice mail. It was simultaneously the best and worst decision I have yet to make in my social life. I am forever scarred, and blessed with the outcome. One year later I am stationary, as I wanted. I am writing again, as I wanted. I have a steady job, I am lucky. So, why am I still hanging on to red letter days?

Today I officially put to bed the first draft of my novel. I am 90% done with the skeleton, but I am so anxious to start all over again, I cannot focus on any another word of this version. I was hopelessly optimistic enough to think I would have something readable in time to pass off to my buddy Framps in two weeks, but I am just fine with taking my sweet time. This day will now have two significances.

-Mo