A few hours away from a new year

Why hello there... :) I know, its been a long ass while since I've updated this space (June! Seemed like a really long time to be kept quiet, but I've had Twitter to keep my fingers sharp and busy). I checked the blog stats, and apparently there's still a few of you twaddlers finding your way over here, probably expecting a sarcastic moan or two so you can justify your accurate assessment that YES, I am bitchy as fuck.

But nonetheless, I've moved all the old entries (as I usually do every year, when I just feel sick of all the emotional, spontaneous drivel I feel the need for a fresh start) somewhere else. If you're clever enough to Googlocate that, do you have a fucking life? Just kidding. I'm glad you're still reading at this point.


So I'm about 11 hours off from counting down the heavy seconds to the new 2011 year. Excited? Not really. I'll be in a room with a bunch of people I've just met (I'm a friend's plus one tonight), a little buzzed and burpy from gorging on an overpriced holiday restaurant dinner and a few helpful gulps of liquid cheer. Being the classy lady I am, I'd probably oblige if any single white male just grabbed me and asked for his midnight kiss. Go with the flow and all that jazz, right? (New years resolution: everything sounds much classier and mature when I replace shit with jazz - Your dog just died? That's jazzy.)

This sounds like an entry that's about to delve into a long-winded diatribe of self-reflection, considering the day and time. At this point, I realized I'm 2 months and 11 days away from turning twenty. That's 20. Double digits, double diiiis. Its crazy and awful. I feel ridiculously old, and in light of my international independence and how far from resembling a nuclear family my lifestyle is, I have no idea how I celebrate this milestone (its okay, I cringed at that word too).

As always, I'll leave the details to fate. See how offhandedly carefree I sound? Yeah. In the back of my head all my little voices are just screaming "YOU'RE GOING TO BE ALONE, AGAIN", "ITS LIKE 3 PEOPLE ARE JUST GOING TO GIVE YOU PRESENTS, AND THEN YOU CAN PRETEND YOU DIDN'T CARE ABOUT PRESENTS IN THE FIRST PLACE" and "NO FAMILY, YOUR LIFE SUCKS!" But whatever. I know how different my life is from the rest of the world. Without actually talking about it, I guess I've never acknowledged how hard it really is, to be an independent single child living such a sober life of constant change and transition from homes and cities across the globe. All this without a familiar, stable face of emotional support.

I guess the feeling I'm trying spell out is that I don't feel rooted.

Perhaps its all not in the manner of who I experience my life with, or who is there to celebrate or cry or listen to me when I need to sing and groan. I still have a great deal to seek and discover, in terms of myself. A reassurance of my values and the certainty in the general direction I'm headed, positive self-actualization and my dreams. I'm not one so terribly cliche to have held onto one single rainbow image of myself in a lab coat or business suit all through my growing years, but the closer I am to reaching full adulthood, the more strongly I can feel myself wanting to be somewhere, doing something and enjoying it.

I'm starting to see my life ahead of me.


So I guess that's as inspiring and poignant as I can get at a time like this. I've made it a resolution (hopefully, not a synonym for 'a false promise') for myself to keep a wonderful diary where I'll write all my creative, positive thoughts and aspirations and ideas for Future Plan A. How tacky and ridiculously girly is that? I've already filled out the first 3 pages with idealistic bullshit in pink ink, so there's a start.

And you might be wondering what Future Plan A is all about. I'll just tell you right now that I'm too lazy to go on, and I've got to shower and paint my nails and get ready for the night of celebration ahead. (See what I did there? A cliff-mother-fucking-hanger!)

I'll leave you gentle readers to this picture of The Woods bar in Los Angeles, California. Its my current wall paper, because I needed something to wash away the filth of having Megan Fox in a bikini sexily confusing my sexuality. I needed a hot bod to remind me to stay fit for the holidays, don't judge.


Get inspired, and get a move on, schmucks. Oh, and happy new years to you all. :)