2009, au revoir

In this, the year of seemingly endless celebrity deaths, the avant-garde going mainstream, and a sizeable amount of personal growth, I'd almost forgotten that the decade was, well, over.

The 00's (aughts?) were definitely my formative years. But I wasn't really, truly cognizant of passing time until well into high school. Until then, life is infinite; when you're 14, only the elderly have sand timers around their necks. And then- bam- something happens and you look down at your own neck, and there you are, sand timer-ed like the rest of them.

In the New Year and well into the next decade (at the end of which I turn 30, dear god), I think I'll end up remembering the 00's as a period of self-realization (to be distinguished, for sure, from self-actualization). Here I am, ready for the next ten years, sand timer around my neck, plans in my back pocket.

Here's to 2010.

Zsa Zsa Zsu

I feel as though something's happened to my motivation and my feistiness. Has becoming a member of a two-some made me both treacly and indolent? I guess we all expect relationships to enable a certain amount of sentimentality, but I'm beginning to feel as though the heady, almost hubristic confidence-- my response to harbored bitterness-- that got me into this great, healthy relationship has evaporated in some of this summer heat. The thing is, being in a stimulating relationship has offered me so much in the way of emotional well-being and, well, general happiness.

So what the EFF is going on?

For example, I was recently asked to write an article for the World Daily News' insert for prospective college students and their parents, an immense and unexpected honor, clearly. Long story short, it's not getting published because of word counts and blah dee blah Asad's an idiot. But worse than that is just how absurdly simplistic-- and almost formulaic-- the writing was. When I edited the piece, I felt as though I was reading the work of some simpleton 9th-grade writer. Yeah, it was that bad.

Perhaps I'm not responding well to no longer being a teen. Perhaps being 20 disagrees with the Peter Pan in me.

I need school to start. I need to be in New York. I need to again experience the terror and the thrill of the hand-to-mouth student experience. I want to smell the stale (central) air of an East Village thrift shop. I want to be and avert clichés. New Jersey is both under-stimulating and deeply uninspiring.

Where's the fuckin' zsa zsa zsu?