sometimes you just have to take a step back and say woah. and then say happy new year.

as the oldest of four and the oldest of eleven (ooookay, that made no sense. oldest of four siblings . . . oldest of eleven grandchildren), i think it was scripted in my DNA to always have it together. to do things first. to do things right.

well, screw right.

i’m gonna fuck some shit up, do it backwards, do it last, do it on my own accord, and by god make no apologies for it whatsoever.

and i’m [finally] okay with that.

i sort of always did it that way anyway.

[after all, i’m the only one who ever really left. and by left, i mean packed ship from the confederate states, left the safety net of home, and made no promises that i would see anyone within a calendar month. or even two. and sometimes multiple months may pass. and that’s okay, too. we have phones.]

as the new year rolled in, i made no attempt at making any resolutions. primarily because i didn’t really think about it. and subconsciously because i didn’t want to let myself down when i failed one (or all) of them by january 3rd.

screw resolutions.

and screw right.

[again.]

what i did do as the new year rolled in is drank and abundance of cheap champagne, sang songs of my liking at the tip top of my lungs, probably danced (who am i kidding. of course i danced.), rubbed an aloe plant on my skin for no better reason than someone actually brought an aloe plant to the party (?!?), told the people i love that i love them, made some people laugh, made myself laugh, sat by a bonfire and took and absurd number of photos (with my mouth wide open, apparently. why do i do this? okay, maybe this is my resolution.), and played the harmonica (poorly) while wearing a soccer ball-inspired bucket on my head.

what the hell did YOU do?

i did make myself one promise, though. and i’ll be damned if i break it.

2012 will be the better of years i’ve ever known.

a lot of things may change. and some things may stay exactly as they are.

but there is one thing that will not change.

i won’t change.

not the real me.

the me that i like.

the one that makes people laugh.

the one that makes myself laugh.

the one that is there when people cry.

the one that is there when i cry.

the one that sings.

the one that dances.

the one that wears buckets on my head.

the one that, at the very essence of my core, i have always been . . .