Welcome to my Tabula Rasa, Part 1

Last New Years Eve, I wrote what was possibly the most cynical sentiment ever to grace this blog, explaining why I don't make New Years resolutions. I still don't believe that January 1st  means anything more than a new calendar (if you still use a paper one like I do, preferably one covered in naked women or Sesame Street characters or Humphrey Bogart movie stills, please.) But I've definitely changed since then.

It could have something to do with the journey that was 2008-2009-almost 2010; with moving from Brooklyn to Paris to living with an ex to living alone in a box-sized room downtown to finally finding home on The Upper West Side.

 I'd been on my own, technically, since 2005, but this was the first year I felt strength in my arms and my lips. The first year I looked at myself in the mirror and saw open eyes, wide hips, a small waist, vulnerability.

2009 was the first year I learned to calm myself without substances. The first year my feet made noise on the same concrete streets my great-great-great grandparents believed were paved in gold. The first time I payed my rent in full and still had money to tip the girl who serves me frozen yogurt with a smile that sends me soaring.

This year, I let my world grow silent enough to hear my own whispering, silent enough to feel whole in the soft of my skin.

I still don't make New Years resolutions, but I no longer think they are stupid.  In fact, I'd like to know what yours are if you'll share them with me.

This year, I decided to make some non-resolutions and yell them from rooftops. Or at least desktops, swing sets, sunsets, overseas via carrier pigeon, anywhere, everywhere at once - doesn't matter, as long as you hear them.

Non-Resolutions of 2010

I am messy.
I am curvy.
I drink wine in bed.
I inexplicably laugh when saying "goodbye" on the phone.
I am full speed ahead.
I seduce with the force of a Roman army marching to the beat of a Fiona Apple symphony.
I won't and don't exercise, unless speedwalking through life counts.
Unless picking myself off the ground counts.
I don't resolve to stop eating cookies or to fold my laundry the second it comes out of the dryer.
I don't resolve to hide my neurotic quirks.
I only resolve to try, until I can't.