New Year’s Meme
In 2008, I gained: a better sense of who I could depend on.
I lost: 12 pounds.
I stopped: drinking.
I started: liking dogs! (Or at least, Hamlet.)
I was hugely satisfied by: my decision to not work over the summer (a first since I was 15!)
And frustrated by: not writing enough.
I am so embarrassed that I: ended up with a Yalie. Okay, not really.
Once again, I: managed to attention whore without really attention whoring.
Once again, I did not: manage to maintain my navel piercing. (Third time is probably not the charm, and thus, I will not be attempting again.)
The biggest physical difference between me last December and this December is: 12 pounds and a monogamous vagina.
The biggest psychological difference between me last December and this December is: my newfound belief that I deserve love.
I loved spending time: living and traveling with my best friend Kennedy for weeks in Germany. Despite occasional stress and a diet of french fries and gelato, still one of the happiest periods of my life.
Why did I spend even two minutes: worrying about my reputation? It is so obviously wrecked beyond repair.
I should have spent more time: fact-checking The New York Times since now I will be forever known solely as a “small Asian woman” with a penchant for finishing dessert.
I regret buying: clothes I don’t fit anymore, mostly jeans. I knew there was a reason I used to live in dresses.
I will never regret buying not-budgeted $400 plane ticket to Germany in the middle of my spring break in Greece even though with that money I could have bought the plane ticket for summer. My best friend needed me both times. Worth it.
I slept in late way too much.
I didn’t talk to my father enough.
Keeping my blog a secret from my mother (especially after The New York Times piece) drove me crazy.
The most relaxing place I went was Norderney, an island in Northern Germany where Patrick and I spent two days cut off from civilization (by which I mean there was no Internet).
Why did I go to New York so many times? (Like monthly). I can’t remember in retrospect, but I’m sure there was a good reason.
The best thing I did for someone else was drop everything for them (see: Kennedy).
The best thing I did for myself was tell my mother the truth.
The best thing someone did for me was have sex with me after the naked photo debacle. Seriously. A fling in Switzerland with someone I trusted after my ex went psycho on me was exactly what I needed to heal.
The one thing I’d like to do again, but do it better, is Patrick.
