Since to avoid reflecting on 2010 on my internet web log would be a disgrace to my title as Person Who Writes About Herself On An Internet Web Log, this is what I have to say: I had a great, happy year. I drank gin and ate chocolate with my friends during a blizzard. I danced in slow motion to Chris Brown’s “Forever” at my grandfather’s 80th birthday party. I sat on the grass in front of the Carnegie Library and re-read A Room of One’s Own in the sun, and everything felt bright and clarified and I felt angry. I got a job. I ran around the balloon room at the Andy Warhol museum with Alice and laughed until I cried. I got a story published. I moved into an apartment I love, with a roommate I love more than is seemly. In between these events were long stretches of time in which I did absolutely nothing at all, so if my 2010 sounds YOUTHFUL and VIBRANTLY ALIVE, rest assured that my memory is selective.
2011: Drink more water, acquire more fame, perform reenactments of pivotal scenes from Black Swan to my boyfriend’s
eternal delight tolerance.