2005

Every year I write a poem on New Year's Eve called "New Year's Eve." Last year, I was as down as I've ever been, and the poem was only saved (maybe) by a phrase I wrote later. This year, I'm thinking about LitJ, and Faultline, and my sister's international relations' grad school applications, and my mom's New Years' party (for which she has instructed us to indivudally behead and stuff tiny grape tomatoes). I haven't been writing much, but the well doesn't feel dry. Just frozen over, maybe, since we are in the Arctic land of Minnesota (where it snowed all yesterday and is still very pretty, since St. Paul, in an effort to save money, doesn't plow its streets).

Anyway, 2005 was a good year. I was just thinking about my blog entries from earlier in the year, and immediately the word "gleeful" came to mind, an adjective I never would have thought I'd be using to describe myself one year after that miserable New Year's. Glee really is a strange and complex state, isn't it? I feel proud of English that we have a word for it.