Oh, 8

Here we are, in those strange unidentifiable nether-days between Christmas and New Years. What day is it? What time is it? How long have I been wearing these pants? I always seem a bit lost around now.

The only thing really noteworthy about now is that it's the time us writerly types start to look back on the year and make grand conclusions. Plan for resolutions we know we won't keep. Make lists of our favorite shows or CDs, asserting authority we've granted ourselves. Part of me wants to be better or cooler and avoid it, but gahhh...I just can't. We love this shit. I can't help it. Back in college with all the moving and packing it was even more irresistible, and tangible.

So what about 2008? I spent all of it working at a talent agency - three as a mailroomer/floater, nine as an assistant. I moved out of the valley and to WeHo. I got out of a long-distance relationship that started when I was a junior in college. I finished a spec show and a pilot, and started two features and another pilot (I wish I were further along). I saw Death Cab at the Nokia Theater. I got my first cavity - and three more. I got rejected from several contests, fellowships and workshops. I never left California (until Dec 18), and never left LA except for a day in Santa Barbara and a weekend in Carlsbad. I bought a bike, and it was stolen from my garage two months later. I saw a fun smattering of celebrities, from Adam Sandler to McLovin. I began mentoring a 15 year-old girl in creative writing through WriteGirl. I got my first massage. I lost and gained the same ten pounds about a dozen times. I watched probably a thousand hours of television and a whole lot of movies. I met a lot of new friends. I navigated the gateway from frappucinos to lattes to regular coffee (with milk and Splenda). I voted in my second Presidential election - and this time my guy won. People started actually reading this blog.

Big year? I don't know. I'm kinda hoping 2009 will be bigger.