Happy New Year.

I'm curious about this New Year, what is so happy about it? What was wrong with the last one? And what difference does it make if there is glitter and kissing involved?! I guess every blog today is probably taking a moment to pause and reflect on the year past. I suppose I could too, but there truthfully would not be much to tell. A year of travel, realization, growth, death, writing and a severe lack of sleep, too much wine, not enough cheese! I believe that 2009 was probably the least eventful year for me, and honestly I quite like it. It has been a year of work, and just a moderate level of play (have to work on that for 2010 I propose). I was unbelievably grateful to have my family home and safe from Iraq and to be able to have us all together for some much needed Cabot/Ritter tom foolery!

I am sitting, staring at the same computer screen I stared at this exact time 1 year ago. And all I can wonder about is how my thought process has changed. What occupied my mind then as opposed to now? I know what it is and unfortunately due to my lack of self discipline and probably a little respect for my mental health, it is the same thing. Why do we kiss the one we love when the ball drops? We could kiss them anytime we want, what is so special about this giant glowing ball and the fact that is it being, quite dangerously, lowered from the sky. Are we thanking them for sticking by as one year passes to another? An appreciation of having wonderful people in our wonderful lives? A good-bye to the past and hello to the future. But I'm starting to wonder about the desperation people feel. This deep burning need to just have that one kiss, just when the ball drops. Alright, alright, maybe I'm only talking about myself because I sure as hell haven't the felt the need for any kisses at any other point in time when there is not giant glowing glittery mechanical balls dropping in celebration of a new and prosperous year. Perhaps is the nostalgia, the overwhelming sense of warmth and positive energy of getting starting everything anew. Well, maybe not everything. Some old habits are seriously hard to break.

You are like the most bitter cup of black coffee
scalding hot and
steaming from my faded travel mug
curling the ends on my hair
my taste buds screeching
and my heart pounding in his cage.
My blood pressure takes off, straight to the moon.
You are like the Marlboro Red
I bummed from a stranger outside a bar
my breath cursed me and
my body beat me
the burning tornadoes tearing
at the corners of my heart.
And the race had begun in my chest.
You are like the tall glass of dark red wine
flushing my cheeks and warming my skin
my fingertips and toes seem to move like mud
and my body slows to a guiet lull
reminded of the movement of the sea.
For shame, I must pour myself another.