2009 will be my year. For me. Mine.

Mother heifer, the year is over and I have once again failed to achieve any of my goals. Money? Uncheck. Love? Uncheck. Pony? This close!

I did get a lot of D this year, which none of you want to know about, and I furthermore spent a lot of money on books and clothes, both of which are arranged by color in my pauper's apartment. Paupartment, if you will. Will you?

My last goal of the year was to write a 2008 Year in Review, but there's really nothing to review.

Favorite album of the year: Something from the '90's.
Favorite TV show of the year: Something from the '90's.
Favorite movie of the year: Mean Girls again.

No, not even Batman.

What's to reflect on? Same little apartment, same bonehead job, same sense that I'm too weird to hold a lover. It's not a mindset that makes looking back a gay romp. I'm not normally one for that sort of depressive introspection, but for some reason this season is filled with my first-ever feeling of New Year's Guilt and Regret.

SO! In honor of the occasion, I hereby declare myself "Approaching 30." Ooooooooooh! Clock's ticking, dude!

I don't know what I want besides a change, and I have a good feeling I'll get one. I'm looking to move in April, which is a start, so hopefully having an actual bedroom will make me feel like I've made something of my life. Maybe I'll spring for one with a bathtub and some counter space.

Stupid rut. I diagnose myself brunches, dates, professional conferences, dinner parties, and maybe an orgy. There's really nothing to be done except getting off my ass and back into the world. And perhaps an internal change is in order as well... like not hating people by default. Yeah, I'll start with that.

2009 is going to be a good year. I can tell. Not even this depressing Emiliana Torrini song on my iPod can make me think otherwise even though she just called me a bleeder. So here's to a happy, healthy, peaceful, progressive, and enlightening year for you and your loves ones! And especially for me.