So It Begins.

It’s 2008. Everything is covered in snow. In eleven days, I’ll be leaving the country.

Today, I will inevitably answer the question of what I did last night at least five times. The current count is at two. Because of a snowstorm, and because my mom’s ten-year-old Volvo has a proclivity for skidding, I camped out at a friend’s and had the most low-key New Year’s Eve I’ve had in a while. Last year, I celebrated in New York by going to two parties with my cousins: one was semi-swanky and Iron Chef-themed, with boring yuppie guests and not enough communal food, but plenty of wine and film-related conversation with a handsome Brit to hold me over; the other was in the Upper West Side dwelling of two of my cousins’ lawyer friends (and neighbors)—I only remember playing with their dog, eating a lot of shrimp, drinking more wine, and feeling less awkward. This year, there was an order of deep dish pizza, a bag of cookie dough, and seven hours worth of America’s Next Top Model. We rang in the new year by toasting with a glass of milk, a can of Diet Coke, and a carrot. Nothing had alcohol in it. Over the course of the evening, I received a slew of “Happy New Year!” text messages, and a drunken phone call from a friend, who expressed his wishes for the invention of a microwave that could freeze food (in addition, of course, to heating it). He also promised to pay me ten dollars if I stayed up and watched the entirety of the first cycle of Next Top Model. It nearly happened.

I fell asleep around four-thirty or five. I did not wake up with a hangover. Instead, I had a scrumptious brunch of whole-wheat bagels with cream cheese, clementines, and tea. Then I drove the Volvo into the bowels of surrounding communities, and found that most of the roads had been completely cleared. No more skidding, no more anxiety about crashing into parked cars or lampposts or trains. Just smooth sailing, and snowflakes falling gently onto the windshield.

I made a mix-tape about a week ago. Driving around today, I decided it’s close to perfect for this kind of weather. There is nothing like the calm of Aimee Mann’s voice to remind you of how snug and comforting winter can be. I’m always vocal about how much I hate the snow, but how can I truly hate it when it’s blanketed the landscape in such a serene way? Where is the sense in detesting something so beautiful?

New Year’s Resolution #1: I will try not to distance myself from the things I love.