Little Bill

At this time last year I was preparing for a wild night on the town, while daring to leave a Crazy Christian Internet Girl in my apartment all alone. I went out with Mike and Kate and my awesome roommate Steve.

I started a new job working from home, which took me to Las Vegas.

I’ve loved, I’ve lost, and I’ve loved again. Then I lost again.

I made a film, Went on a date and subsequently got my car towed and I discovered Ninja Mannequin Feet. I rode my bike all the way up and down Brooklyn.

I went swimming. My doctor recommend against getting tested for STDs. I got tested anyway. Clean!

Oh, and I was accused of being an axe-murderer. Okay, not quite. I paid off my college loans.

I quit the working-from-home job and started another one. Felt good about it, too.

I fell in love with my hometown again. And remembered the games we play. Photographed Mike and Karly’s wedding. Photographed Paul and Kari’s wedding.

I met The Slackmistress and her awesome husband BeTheBoy.

I turned thirty. And survived. Bet you didn’t have an opera singer sing you happy birthday. I broke my glasses and fell in love with eggrolls. All in the same blog entry.

I connected with strangers, had a not-so-great Thanksgiving, which was remedied by a nice Christmas. Also, I was reminded that Love IS Possible. Just maybe not for me. Or maybe it is. Much to reflect upon.

Drinks tonight with Mike and Kate!

2008 is upon us.

Ahh yes, the long awaited post-Christmas blog entry. It’s taken me a good few days of digestion (read: decompression) to write, but here’s the crazy thing. Nothing happened. Zip, zilch, zero, nada. No drama, no fights. It was nice.

It was also a bit boring. My family doesn’t seem to do anything. Between myself and my father, we had twenty new DVDs to watch. He rented some, I brought ones I’d recently purchased or wanted to see again. Of the five days we were there I don’t even want to tell you how many movies I watched.

Well, actually I will: The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Elf, Surf’s Up (All of which feature the lovely future Mrs. Little Bill, Zooey Deschanel), Ratatouille, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, The Bourne Ultimatum, Letters from Iwo Jima and A Christmas Story. TWICE.

My Brothers and I all managed to get out of the house and go out on the town — well, one bar — and get ourselves a bit lit up. Luckily, we were all wise enough to call a parental unit to come pick our drunk asses up. The next day I got my ass out of the house and took some photos of my hometown. I went high tech and low tech. My Canon 40d and my Diana 151. It was brilliant. At some point tonight I’ll try and scan the toy camera photos.

Another year is upon us. Will there be changes? I don’t know. Many of them were actually made already. Some of them by me, some of them to me. All for the better, I’m beginning to believe.

2008 will be the year I become an adult. I’m gonna try my damdest to make that happen and not kill the child within me too. However I seem to have left a little bit of my wide-eyed wonder somewhere else.

This guy says the horse can do.
If he says the horse can do, can do. Can do.

It is Sunday morning. I am lying in my bed, bundled up under my big heavy covers. The sun threatens to shine through the red curtains and blind me, so I close my eyes and listen. To my left, a beautiful Yellow Cat begins purring the moment she notices I am awake. To my right, a black Phoebe shifts, her tail happily batting down on the mattress (and occasionally on my face.)

Still, I listen.

I listen to the wind, blowing through the bare branches in the backyard, rattling the glass in the windows. Pouring in little bits of frosty air in through the cracks where my window unit sits, reminding me to put it away for the season. I listen to the few birds that have remained. I listen to the few leaves that aren’t trapped under the bits of snow that remain staccato across the yard.

I listen to my own breathing; soft and steady.

I take two more deep breaths and I rise. Awake.

Well that basically describes it. I’m doing okay for the most part. A little stress here, a little relief there. Sometimes I feel out of control and in such a whirlwind of activities I forget that I have a home in which to return. Other moments the silence is maddening, along with my restlessness.

All-in-all it’s good. I’m meeting new people, solidifying already important relationships — my best friend just asked me to be his best man — and learning that other friendships are like ping pong: you need two to play, at least if you want an interesting outcome.

We’re nearing the end of the year and 2007 is ramping up to be the year that could’ve been; revisiting past events and wondering where they went wrong, how they could have been avoided or how I would have done it differently. My time was spent focusing less on the here and now, or more importantly, the future and what it will bring and that’s not healthy.

Turning thirty has changed that in a lot of ways, though. I’m seeing my life on a larger scale, and taking steps to ensure that what will come next happens less serendipitously. Perhaps next time hindsight will be blurry, because foresight was 20/20.

How nice would that be?

It’s been a year to the day since we first started talking, and I’m sad to say that we aren’t now. I really wish I knew what happened, and I refuse to spend any more time guessing why one of the most of my very best friends decided to stop. Also, I’ve no interest in resorting to nonsensical dramatics. Still, I miss you horribly.

Lately I’ve noticed I haven’t been taking as many photos as normally. I need to get back on that. I’ve been thinking the same thought every time I pack up my junk and get ready to step out the door, "I probably won’t find something very interesting today. It’ll be fine." and invariably I come across a situation where I needed my camera. Fortunately I have a cameraphone with me but still, it’s not quite the same.

Last week, one morning after a storm, I was crossing Broadway on my way to work. There, off to my left, was a gentleman pulling out his pocket-sized digital camera (why wasn’t that not with me?) and pointed it at the Empire State Building. Big whoop, every tourist takes a photograph of it. Still, I paused to look. The top quarter of the building had a glow to it; the clouds had parted and let a giant beam of light rain down right atop its spire. It was glorious.

That said, I’m carrying any one of my many cameras with me every day this week. Let’s see what comes up.

I’ll leave you with something I came across with my camera phone this weekend…

…perhaps it is possible.

The wind pounds
the branches and leaves

which, in turn
rattle the glass; shake the house

which, in turn
invokes feline leap; a startled yelp

which, in turn
rouses slumbering boy;
alone, in half the bed

which, in turn
makes him yearn
for the rise—

—and fall
of your chest.

- - -

I think winter’s gets a bad rap sometimes. Yesterday I was strolling in the East Village (still my favorite neighborhood) and it was remarkable how at peace I was. The air was brisk, blowing across my face. Even in New York there’s a silence that hangs in the air and there were less people out and about.

Most of the time I find myself succumbing to heavy moods during this season. Maybe it’s S.A.D., or maybe it’s something else. Perhaps it’s just my frame of mind.

Maybe I’ll choose, instead, to believe that Winter’s role is to wipe the slate clean and purify. Perhaps I’ll be cleansed and emerge refreshed. New. It’s better than thinking of the season as the little death we all experience when something ends. Instead it’s the sleep of the world. Maybe I’ll dream this season…

…and maybe I’ll awaken!