new.

it's 2012.

it's 2012, and my hair is getting long.

it's 2012, and i live on my own.

it's 2012, and i write plays for a living, only i pay the school so that i can live. i got my first real grown-up coat for christmas. i have a guitar in my house, and i play it, although still not well. i have trouble sleeping because of my brain and bad habits, but when i do sleep, i sleep like a dead thing. i have my own internet finally but i have trouble getting the password to work so half the time i'm still stealing from my neighbors. i still want to spell "neighbors" as "neighbours" even though i haven't been in england since 2004.

it's 2012, and i still miss england sometimes.

it's 2012, and in my usually silent building, the neighbors are fighting, loudly. i don't mind the shouting, but i am listening for the sound of violence, because that i do mind. i am knitting again, only i realized that i have no interest in counting stitches or patterns or anything other than throwing more and more yarn of different colors (colours) on to the same two needles. so i think i'll be doing that from now on.

it's 2012, and i do not live near the ocean or the mountains, but i do live near the city and the city has already crept into my heartbeat again so that places that are any smaller than fort collins feel very small indeed, the sorts of places that you go to recover from an injury or a broken heart. after awhile in quiet places, i start to believe that i have been very ill.

it's 2012, and colorado still feels like home. but i love chicago. i love its trains and its noise and its toughness with underlying midwesterny goodness. i love the stuff that is happening, the comedy and collaboration, the theatre and music and visual art. i love the lake and the skyline. i love living near my brother and his wife.

it's 2012, and i still have never owned a car, although other people's cars are frequently left in my driveway. i have never owned much of anything, i guess. it still feels like a big (and in some ways, morally questionable) deal to me that my bed and coffee table were bought first-hand. there is not much else in my apartment that is like that, though, and that makes me feel better, like my apartment is filled with small history and not just craft supplies.

it's 2012, and i am graduating from grad school this year, and then i don't know what's going to happen. i'm not usually sure of what i want until i see it. there's almost nothing that i want in general, in the abstract. for now, i just want what i have. i like living alone. i like writing plays and reading books and knitting absurd scarves. i like drinking coffee and telling dumb jokes and using all the mugs in my house every day. i like making things up.

i told a friend what i did for new years eve (which was write a short play and drink a screwdriver), and he said it sounded "lonely, but wonderful." and i thought, y'know, that's a pretty good description of my life right now. and i like that, too.

it's 2012, and i keep saying that because i think that if i name the year enough, it will lose its power to make me believe that the world is going to end. but i think maybe it's just that i always think the world is about to end. that is part of its magic.

and who am i kidding, anyway? the universe is nothing if not unpredictable. and we have never listened to the right prophets.

it's 2012.