I blame this on my Dad, and you should too. After letting this blog lay dormant for almost two years, moving on to other things, and spending more time reading than writing, he asked me about Now's In Between the other day and said he missed reading it. Hell, I didn't even know he read it to begin with, other than that one time he told me he thought I was drinking too much alcohol on the weekends (Happy Father's Day to me!)
But then I started thinking about it and I was like, hey, I may be older now, but I'm wiser, and I still live a more exciting and adventurous life than most people I know, and definitely more dynamic and well-rounded than all the married couples I know who have faded into their single focus domestic pursuits (more power to 'em if they're happy,) so why shouldn't I be on here sharing my exploits? And hell, if my Dad is the only one who wants to read it, I love you Dad, you're awesome, and I thank you and Mom and P every day for every bit of the person I've become. Well, maybe not the socialite part of me...you're more of a hermit in that regard.
I also feel a strong urge to start writing again. Something, anything...reading my older posts got me a bit inspired. I feel more alive somehow when I'm writing, like my brain wants to jump out of my head, do a dance around the room and then sing showtunes. I've used ultimate frisbee team emails to fill that void, but it simply isn't enough and has an audience of 17. And while writing is a bit like working out, being harder to get back to once you've put it down, I have no doubt that I can, and probably better than before as I shed old habits, pick up new tricks and expand my focus. I also don't want people on the Interwebs to think I died in 2010 and didn't invite them to my funeral. That'd be some rude shit on my part.
So...what have I done since March 28th, 2010? Everything short of selling my belongings, moving to a foreign country and becoming a priest. Although, as this post indicates, someone forgot to tell me that people don't blog anymore in 2012. They just Tumblr.
I finished my Master's degree, got a job, lost a job, got a better, higher paying job with less responsibility, and started paying off my Master's debt. I lost a girlfriend, then said good riddance to a fake friend who set out to sleep with said ex-girlfriend a week after we broke up, got back together, broke up again and then found out I had matured since I was 22 and was able to remain friends with her after the break up. For someone who erases the slate and starts fresh after the pain of a break up, usually burning the bridge with a stick of dynamite, finding a way to be friends again was a huge step for me. I didn't go all Bill Murray in Broken Flowers and start rekindling relationships with all of my exes or trying to have make-up sex with them, but that isn't to say that I didn't consider it for a time. ABols taught me a great deal about myself, relationships, the endings of relationships, and the beginnings of new friendships, which I thank her for.
I relaxed my grip and said goodbye to a few long term friendships that didn't make sense or offer support anymore, and said hello to a variety of fun and exciting new friendships that expanded my horizons and social circles. They say as you age that the circles you move in get smaller and more fixed, but that hasn't been my experience. Funny how time and situations slowly but surely reveal the people who are truly there for you vs. the ones who like how the words sound when they say them but don't know how to back them up when you need it.
Had a summer fling with a girl I knew from high school, bought into it when she told me she was falling in love, started falling myself and then she stood me up one night and never returned any of my attempts to contact her. I even sent a hand written letter in the mail...who does that these days? And still no response. Don't know what happened there, but it was undeniably the strangest and possibly most painful ending to a relationship I've ever endured because of the abrupt uncertainty of it all. I still wake up some days hoping that she'll call. Strange how someone can hurt you badly, to a point you know you should no longer care or want them around, but feelings for the times and memories you shared together can outweigh all of that and still give you a broken type of hope, like a bird with one bad wing determined to leave the ground.
What, you thought I'd write about all my triumphs but not mention the hard stuff? Then how could you ever trust me to tell you the truth? I may be anonymous, but that doesn't mean I can be dishonest.
I won four Ultimate Frisbee league championships in San Francisco as captain of the team, learned how to ride, then bought a motorcycle, and finally ditched the 10 year old futon bed from college in exchange for a bed that an adult somewhere might actually own. Bought some pretty little gold fish, bought some new fish when they died, and bought two new bookshelves because my stacks of books started taking over my bedroom.
I went to about 7 weddings, including ones in Mexico, Denver, Boston and San Francisco. I got drunk at all of these, yet still managed not to offend any of the brides during any of my speeches. Although looking back, that probably would have been more amusing.
I turned 30, which was a classy black tie affair. Actually, it was a bar crawl in San Francisco that I wore a tuxedo to while making my friends wear at least a suit and tie. No, I don't feel older. In fact, the fact that I haven't yet made anyone intentionally or accidentally pregnant makes me feel younger than my peer set.
One of my sisters got married and moved to Thailand, the other one had two kids to add to her first and bought a house in the Mormon heart of Utah. This is great because it gives me a few people to corrupt later down the line. Hopefully one if not both of these sisters will move back to California soon, because if I can tell you one thing, it's being the only child out of three still within a 50 mile radius of your parents is not easy. Suddenly all the hopes, dreams, problems and hardships are yours to deal with while your siblings get to check in on Skype every once in a while.
Went through three more roommates that I thoroughly enjoyed, watched the Giants win 2 World Series, and helped a few people avoid arrest on a few occasions through sharp thinking, quick talking and a humble spirit of dealing with police. I gave up buzzed driving to and from San Francisco in exchange for a Caltrain-BART arrangement. This means I'm partying more and worrying about getting caught or dead less. It's a very good thing. 50 dollars for a cab sounds a lot better than 10,000 for a DUI.
Kept seeing movies, kept listening to new music, kept being ridiculous. Kept being irreverent, abrasive and over the top on Twitter. Bought a new computer, bought a new TV and bought myself a new social life. Reading that sentence again I feel the need to point out that I do not mean that I was paying for escorts. Got several new tattoos, which I look at daily as I think about where I've come from and where I'm going. I also wonder constantly what the coroner will think they mean without me there to explain them.
Basically, I kept loving everything I'm doing while having enough amazing events and people in my life to overlook the occasional bump in the road. I'd say I'm blessed, but I'm not religious, so I'll say that life has been extraordinary and I wouldn't trade the last two years for anyone else's, even Tom Brady. And especially not certain people that are no longer around. I may be stupid sometimes, but I would never move to the South. And I may like Giselle, but losing a Super Bowl doesn't sound appealing to me. And I'd never want to attend Serra like Tom did.
Rather than build lofty expectations on my return to this blog like I did in February of 2010, only to go silent again a month later, I'm just going to say I'm back, leave it at that, and let my posts speak for themselves.
In two weeks, I turn 31. And I don't intend to slow down, move aside or stop for anyone. I'm having way too much fun here. Join me.
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