"Let's make this our year" was the first text I received in 2010. It was from both Pacemaker and Lau.
"Something tells me this year isn't going to be so great. But I hope it really does become your year" I wrote back.
While 2010 was no where near as shitty and unbearable as 2009, it was the year that dragged on. It felt as if I had to move through molasses to get anywhere. Everything went in slow-motion.
Luckily, no one died... I think... I mean, no one near and dear to me. There were close calls, but nothing overly devastating like '09 when my two remaining grandparents passed away.
I'd do the whole month-by-month recap like every year, but honestly, I can't remember much of what went down.
The major stories of 2010 for me were the following:
The disintegration, the death of the MGH-AnoMALIE unstoppable duo.
Way to start the year.
Visiting him back in February just felt like a goodbye... and it was. While I had fun, there was an inexplicable sense of melancholy.
As we stood on the tallest hill we could find in San Francisco, we stared at the city below... lighting up the otherwise very dark night. We stood next to each other in complete silence, and after a couple of minutes, I turned to him.
This place will forever own my heart... but I could never live here.
That weekend he met Olive Oyl... and I was done. Whatever we may have ever been... died.
On my last night of my Bay Stay, MGH was furious as he sat in the living room by himself. No one could cheer him up, immediately walking out of the room and leaving him alone to pout on his sofa. I went over to him and sat down, hugged him, and laid down so my head rested on his lap, with my eyes looking directly up at him.
What can I do? Please don't be mad. Seeing you like this makes me sad.
His breathing slowed down, his jaw and fists unclenched, and he started playing with my hair... completely relaxed.
The day I broke the news to him about not even being able to stay friends with him, he used that line on me. It had the opposite effect.
That was painful... very painful.
My raping of the GRE and the process of Grad School applications.
With no more MGH to lower my IQ and make me act like a dumbass teenaged girl, I had to move on. It was the most difficult decision ever... because I hate admitting when I'm wrong, accepting my mistakes, and I especially hate asking for help. Call it pride, if you will. But once my world crashed on that horrible month of March, I had to go and ask for help... from my guru, my adopted grandfather. I didn't have to tell him a word, he immediately knew I was messed up and heartbroken... and he gave me the (unsolicited, but much appreciated) advice:
"Remember... Elvis didn't go to the crowds, the crowds came to Elvis. Girls don't go to the boys... the boys will come looking for the girls."
Words I now live by.
He also told me I "looked like a writer from the moment you walked into class that first day. You and Mr. Darcy. You guys have that look down: Anti-social. Private. Neurotic." Only that man can call me "neurotic" and I'll take it as a compliment.
Anyway, I decided, with his help, that I would follow my heart and apply to grad school... for creative writing.
I spent the time studying on and off from April to October, when I took the GRE and showed it who was boss (me!).
Now I'm in the middle of the application process. Which is fun and scary and somewhat overwhelming. I didn't experience the process (of looking up schools and applying) as an undergrad, due to my strict parents forcing me to stay in Vegas, so this is huge for me.
World Cup frenzy.
Speaking of Darcy, he made a reappearance in my life during this awesome time where the world stops and only lives soccer for a month. The best event ever created: the World Cup. Way to bring back the smile to my face. My circuitry was rewired to happy and normal... sort of.
It was a weird time because I just remember being close to turning into a zombie from June to July. The game times were wack, Mom kept startling me awake at four in the morning with her screams of "GOOOOOOOL!!" and I had Darcy once again making me laugh and (unbeknownst to him) reminding me what life was like pre-MGH.
Just like when my grandpa died back in '09, Darcy just randomly popped back up and made me smile during a shitty time (the weirdest is still, by far, the day of my grandpa's burial. I was home after burying Gramps, vomiting, crying, and barely lucid. I remember being on-line, trying to keep my mind off the pain in my stomach--and heart-- when I noticed Darcy wrote me a comment. I don't remember what he said, I just remember smiling, and for the moment, I didn't vomit or cry... I was just... trying to be me... and all I could think was "Dude, Darcy... you're so fucking awesome. Thank you." I'll appreciate that forever, even if he didn't do it on purpose). Darcy will always hold a special place in my heart. I don't know how or why it happens, but he just... his timing is perfect. He probably never liked me, he probably hardly remembers who I am, but he's still... a motherfucking badass. Guy could become a serial killer, and I'd still sit there and admire whatever the fuck he does, he's that legit.
Definitely the one thing I'll look back on most fondly for the year 2010... besides the ass-kicking I handed the GRE, of course.
Apocalyptic Hometown.
Things were just... out of hand this summer. It was heartbreaking and terrifying to see how the cartel violence has escalated in Mexico. The news agencies only cover some of what is going on... so much more is kept secret, and THAT'S what makes anyone shit bricks once he/she is in the country. It really did feel like I was in a horror flick... seeing dead bodies disposed of on the side of the road like I had often seen dead cattle all the other summers I had headed down to Hometown.
While Hometown continues to be a different planet for me, it is now different in a negative sense. What was once a peaceful getaway, so detached from the real world, is now... violent, bloody, unruly and forgotten by the real world.
I still get chills down my spine when I see an SUV with limo-tint windows roll by me. I can still envision what an AK47 looks like as I stared down the... is it barrel? I still see it... and I still feel that anxiety overpower my heart. Just one pull of the trigger... and... bam, game over, AnoMALIE.
I will not step foot in Hometown until things return to some normalcy... because we all know things will never be "normal" again.
ChicAHgo.
Fun time... depressing time, like everything in my life. This gets a special mention because this week and a half vacation was a riot. Yeah, some speed bumps along the way, but I have never laughed so much, or felt so much love. I slept on the hardwood floor for my entire stay (my poor hips were FUCKED up by the time I got home), and shared a shower with seven other people (who would use my fucking razor! Pigs...), but I would do it again if I could. The weather was dreamy, the people were sweet, and the shenanigans were unforgettable.
JC coming clean.
This was unexpected... well, apparently only for me, since it seems the rest of the world was able to pick up on JC feelings for me. I bumped into this photo yesterday, actually, that best sums it up (my cluelessness and his... admiration?):
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| Umm... ok... ? |
It was me... and it wasn't in one of my albums... but in JC's.
It was from my first ever visit to the boys in the bay, two years ago. I swear I was never made aware of JC's paparazzi moment... and finding it yesterday made me feel like a cunt.
Here I am complaining how no one ever likes me and blah blah blah, and then I see JC was going around sneaking photos of me during some of my happiest moments (although at this particular time I was a little sickened, since the sea lions-- while terribly cute-- smelled like shit. The place was beyond fetid). What kind of dumb retard doesn't understand what that is about? I'm so, so sorry JC.
And yeah. That's pretty much it as far as 2010 goes.
I won't be too sad to see it go... besides the fact that once it goes, it means I'm three months closer to being a year older, which... God.
I'll look back--not so fondly-- on 2010 as the Molasses Year.
Adios, motherfucker.
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