2008: A reflection

Singing along to: Forest Sun, Twenty Toes in the Sand

Dear 2008,

I hope you're sitting down for this, because it's a big one: You were not terrible. In fact, you did one better than that, and accomplished something that even the past few non-crappy years haven't: you were kind of good.

I know: whoa.

Let's review the highlights reel, shall we? On January 1, 2008, I asked you for four simple things:

1) A sense of direction (literal and figurative)
2) More bookshelves
3) A trailer to live in for my senior year
4) Complete mastery of the art of deadpan humor

You gave me:

1a) A figurative sense of direction, via the frickin' sweet Smithsonian internship this semester. I know what collections management is now, and I know that the prospect of working in museum storage can get me out of bed at 5:30 am on my summer vacation. Definitely a win for 2008.

1b) A (slightly better, but still not very good) literal sense of direction. I mean, I still can't get anywhere I haven't already been to, but I've been to more places, particularly in downtown DC. All that walking around the city that I did this summer really paid off. So I'm awarding the year half a point for that one.

2) No extra bookshelves, but the dollar bookstore in Hagerstown closed. This reduces the number of books I will acquire, and thus my need for shelf space, but is also obviously a Bad Thing. Negative points.

3) Well, I didn't get a trailer for the fall of my senior year, but it looks like two of my friends and I have scored one for the spring of senior year. Half a point.

4) I kind of forgot about this "resolution" and I also was unable to take any more classes with one of my favorite professors, who has a PhD in deadpan and English literature. Plus, complete mastery of the art of deadpan humor is obviously a lifelong pursuit. A year simply isn't enough time. Still, I worked on it. Half a point.

5) Assorted bonus points for: lovely beach vacation; creation of an awesome Pandora station (seeded with Iron & Wine, Death Cab for Cutie, and the Weepies); four and a half (totally rad) years with James; being twenty-one; an under-the-wire, museum-filled trip to New York City in December; a really great haircut.

Overall, 2008, you done good, and better yet, you're setting me up for a possibly okay 2009, despite that whole "graduation" thing that 2009 is springing on me. I have an internship at a Baltimore museum in January, James has a full-time job he starts on January 6, and I'll be moving into a trailer park for the spring semester. Good things, all.

Love,
Claire,
(who might actually kind of miss 2008, especially if 2009 turns out crappy after all)

***

Dear 2009,

Unlike previous years, which only had to be better than 2005 (not hard), you actually have something to live up to (see above). Please don't fail me.

Here are my simple requests:

1) A real, full-time job that pays a living wage and doesn't kill my soul.
2) More bookshelves.
3) Minimal graduation-related depression.
4) Pants that fit.

Is that too much to ask? I don't think so.

I am too much of a downer to say that I am optimistic about you, 2009, but I will definitely say that I am interested, which is a word that can go both ways (a la the ancient curse: "may you live in interesting times.").

I've got my eye on you, 2009. Let's see what you can do.

Cautiously yours,
Claire