Thursday, January 29, 2009
A Tribute to 2008
2008 came and left in a blink. I remember boarding many planes to many places;experiencing many cock-ups, detours and delays; and then missing some. My bumpy plane rides have thematically summed up my journey of that year.
2008 was a busy year. The year opened with a play of arpeggios, what with aplenty social activities, lots of sex, intimacies, booze and break ups. By May, I stopped working as my frail nerves got the better of me. I was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. The ghost of my break up with DL would creep up every so often to tug at my heart where I was made to face myself squarely about how screwed up I always felt about my behaviour. Somewhere deep in the depths of my mind, I experienced regret despite how convicted I am (even to this day) that my confession to the truth of my secret life to him was a good decision.
Then there was the Old Boy. Ah the Old Boy- something of an obsession which I love and hate. He is like a case of my sinusitis that never quite goes away in my life- I don't even know quite how to breathe properly through my nose anymore. Yes, the Old Boy is just like sinusitis- a bad case that I suffer from, that is. I constantly lived in regret and love for him. Maybe he could have really loved me. My mind replayed January 2008 and March 2008 over one too many a time and I lay in bed wanting him and hearing that sweet melodic voice call me “sweetheart” once more. Many times, I tried weaning off him but I never successfully did and then there was always the other side of the story- the Old Boy was always there. Like a dangling carrot, he places himself strategically in the way of my life. A mocking moon he is- the Old Boy watches over me and isn't too far away. I wondered countlessly to myself what was the reason for his existence in my life and the what ifs. What if I never cheated on him with the Koran? Would we have kept going? We had a lot of fate really- somehow I was home in Singapore quite often in 2008, which made a longer term affair more viable and then there was this strange coincidence of his office moving really close to my house. The stars were so perfectly aligned to convenience us for a rendezvous. We could have had a real relationship. I would have been happy with our arrangements, though god knows how long I could handle the thought of him fucking some young late teens or twenty-somethings on the side when he gets bored with humouring me. The Old Boy is very good at taunting me by not giving himself to me. But he would have demanded all of me.
With my emotional instability, work and the people at work irritated the shit out of me. I was walking on the tightrope whilst I kept my wits about me. My anxiety levels at work was hitting a crescendo and with the Old Boy constantly on MSN giving me grief (and which I foolishly allowed myself to gravitate towards him), I often experienced the tightening of my chest and I felt myself losing it. I was about to hit a lowpoint in my life...
Came June, I was on the mission to heal myself. With work out of the way and my wish to potentially kiss the corporate world a final goodbye (having felt that my boss left me an irreversible bad taste in my mouth towards the end plus the association with this historical lowpoint of my life which has since imprinted a phobia in me), I decided to re-locate home (not the best decision either since subconsciously, I wanted to be closer to the Old Boy).
I went on a pilgrimage because I knew that my heart that was used to wretchedness and my emotions prone to depression needed a combined mental and physical challenge. I had to work myself hard to surmount the insurmountable and perhaps then I could understand or come to a realisation point in my healing journey that there is Hope that I could get better one day. Coping on a day-to-day basis shouldn't be the bare minimum of how I could live, which I have been doing for a good decade at that stage. So I went to meditate at a monastery and later set off to trek up the Everest Base Camp. Imagine me, a weakling!
I remember during my trek up to the Everest Base Camp and we must be passing the village of Tengboche, we passed an area with many tombstones and plague stones to honour the memory of the many brave hearted who attempted to scale the Mount Everest. It was a dreary day. The landscape appeared foreboding with the grey clouds overshadowing us and the winds were strong. I trudged on and felt the Old Boy with me (feeling somewhat comforted and ironic- for he was a big reason for my need to go on this grand trip), his watch strapped around my wrist. A special watch it was to have marked the milestones of our lives- me trekking to Everest Base Camp and years before, him running his first marathon at age 39.
Months before in March 2008, I was in Chicago with a bunch of colleagues and over seafood and wine, we talked about our dreams. Mackie, who is a physically fit and disciplined guy first mentioned about trekking up the Everest Base Camp as one of the things he would want to do before he dies. I was awestruck because the word Everest to me was unattainable. In August/September 2008, there I was trekking up towards the foot of the king of all mountains. I held a smile in my heart. I remember leaving my career with trepidation as I had no back up plans. But the doors do open to other things. On most trekking days, I cursed and sweared for taking on such an arduous journey. I wasn't particularly fit but my stubborn pride in that instance, had turned into a blessing. I wasn't about to abandon my trek halfway as it would be too embarrassing for me, what with my announcement to friends that I was embarking on a grand journey- I had to be the first amongst people I knew who have made it there!
Towards the final legs of my journey, I remember experiencing a bad headache from the high altitude and had vomitted all of what little contents there were of my liquid breakfast. Throughout my trek, I survived mainly on garlic soup as I had lost my appetite from my previous week of illness when I was sightseeing around Nepal. But I belived in the power of meditation and insisted on trekking up to the village of Gorashep. I meditatively trekked up the situated at around 5000m and ironically, my trekking guide noticed that I walked faster than the usual. That afternoon, after I dumped my bags at the guest house and had lunch, we continued our trek. We made it to Everest Base Camp and was one day ahead of schedule.
During my pilgrimage, I had much time to think but at the same time, so little. Every energy spent on this arduous journey required my utmost concentration. I noted the physical strength and resilience of the Sherpas who carried with on their backs at least 70kg worth of goods each walking from villages to villages up the steep of the trek roads. I was also ever so grateful too that my ever attentive trekking guide who wanted me to save a few US dollars each day carried most of my backpack and held my hand (and offered to piggy back me) as I was confronted by my fear of great nature- the gushing waterfalls and rivers where we had to walk sideways on a thin mental pole to get across villages and one slip would have resulted in us being swept away by the waves to the point of no return and the steep edges of the cliffs that we had to trek through one too many occasions. Then on my way down, we were stuck in a village for two more days, my schedule brought back by two days. Life took a new tempo when I was in the mountains. One thing I came to realise was that you couldn't fight the great natures of life. Our time was controlled by weather and being in the mountains with primitive travelling means, many things didn't quite matter. I came to a part realisation that perhaps I was too bogged down with the material things of life. That, I even meant my senseless feelings for the Old Boy, my depression and all. I realised I tend to hold on too strongly on things. Maybe if I were to die there and then, I wonder do I have any real regrets of not having done something I could have done? The mountains has since alter my perspective, maybe combined with the meditation- it did transform my soul. A few weeks after I returned, I got news that all passengers flying on Yeti Airlines to Lukla, typically the starting point to trek the Everest Base Camp have died in a plane crash. I travelled on Yeti Airlines just a few weeks before too, the same route and twice we were forced to fly back to Kathmandu due to poor visbility and then I missed the first plane back to Kathmandu on my way back due to poor visibility and was stuck in that small town for two days. I am still alive. I am lucky.
Life is ever so fragile and moments transcient, I mused.
My age is catching up with the natural cycles of life. I was made a bridesmaid once more in September 2008. I remember two years before, Danielle has made me promise to be back as her bridesmaid when she got married. She wasn't even being proposed then. Then the following summer whilst I was back home in Singapore, I caught sight of a shimmering more than one carat stone on the left of her fourth finger. I questioned her and she smiled.
So there, she got married at the Hyatt Hotel. It was a very meaningful wedding for I knew the groom too many moons ago with Danielle when we were a mere seventeen. I remember the groom asking me for a dance during Orientation and in his flirty, swaggering manner, he too tried his hands at charming me. But Danielle had captured his imagination all these years despite them having many other relationships over. He always went back to her. It felt like a high school reunion as I caught up with his best men- only 12 years ago, we were in our uniforms. They still had to tease me about my green pinafore. I was made a compere that night and so was Knife. Knife was another gangster character in junior college who has now done well for himself in the banking industry. He never stopped trying to be flirty with me even till now (although I heard that he is probably getting married soon). He noted that I was pretty much still my larger than life personality (thank goodness he met up with me post Nepal, with traces of my last decade of life hidden from view). Subsequently, Knife attempted to meet up with me and quite strangely at times, he would ring me during the late of the night...
After the wedding, I rushed off past midnight to meet up with Harry, having only closed in no more than two hours of sleep the previous night from partying and then waking up early to be at the bride's house that morning. I was still partying like an eighteen year old and not slowing down in my merry making. Harry was also attending an old classmate's wedding at the Oriental Hotel (he had to tell me Mr. London was there too). I got Knife to drop me off at the Oriental and Harry and I caught a cab to head for the clubs. I had so much to update him since I just got back from Nepal six days before and he had just been back from his 3-month long sailing trip. Then I also wanted to update him about my latest caught up with the Koran, his high school friend.
We were already headed into the club as we continued to updating information to each other quickly. Then Harry suddenly alerted to me that by the way, the Koran is coming to the club tonight with his girlfriend. Would I mind? I said that was cool because in my head I was pleased with our being candid with each other.
When we finally saw him and his new hot babe girlfriend, I smiled at him. The Koran looked awkward. Subsequently, a day or two later I logged onto my facebook account and realised that he wrote me a not so nice message. So there-it was little wonder. Comically, Harry had said to me to not worry as I looked really hot tonight with my new china doll hairdo and short pink cheong sam- I had the wow factor.
Recently, I learnt that the Koran has got married. I think it must be sometime in November or December. Wow- I thought. We had that last conversation in September and he mentioned about us best not keeping in touch because he didn't want to jepordise his relatively new and blosoming relationship with this new girlfriend. What can I say but wow? People do act fast and trust making life decisions in a matter of months. Maybe he is sure she is the One.
Just one year ago, the Koran wonders if he would ever get married. After all, he is a progressive Muslim with a lifestyle residing on the wild side but having traditional parents and as a filial son, he would have found finding an on par partner of the same religion challenging. But voila, he found her. She is probably the girl who he could happily spend the rest of his life and she be his one and only. Good on him- I am happy for them.
Exactly, just one year ago whilst the Koran and I had an affair, I was with the Old Boy. My feelings in Jan 2008 is still the same one year on. People do move on and you wonder you are still left behind. What happen to emotional progressions and your theory of histories confounding histories, Miss P?
By October 2008, I was mentally ready to start life over again. But before so, I had to write off a few people. I swore Nano out of my life then as I deemed he made a bad friend (we have since resumed our friendship) and then there was Big M. Few times after I have returned to Singapore from Nepal, he had asked me to give him two weeks to sort out his work and family from his busy flying schedule before he could spend time with me.
I didn't have two weeks, I told Big M. Ironically, on my last week at the foot spa with the Old Boy, Big M had texted to proposition a rendezvous at Ballantine that night. I declined. Getting over the Old Boy was more than enough work, I had DL awaiting my return to Australia on the other end. I was getting ready to embrace a whole new life. There were all the social bad debts, like the global financial crisis of 2008 that needed to be written off my life. A clean slate was what I needed.
“Not everyone gets a second chance. So treasure it ” Josie said to me over dinner the last week before I left Singapore. He meant my relationship with DL. I pondered too overmy good fortune and mentally took note of the men I have known in my life, be they close friends or lovers. Infidelity seemed to be the hallmark of their lives. Half, murky lives these people lead. What their other halves don't know.
DL, in contrast, has always been a transparent man. So pure and almost righteous that he questioned the reason of infidelities, especially in married life. I quietly told him I do understand why. He would reply firmly, “It is people who don't understand themselves well from the very beginning and what they want out of life to become prone to such errors in their lives.” For him to have overlook my fallacies and infidelities as he promised, I know he must love me.More so than he loves himself...
So yes, I returned to Sad Town in October 2008. I was in business partnership with Tina. We got the raving food reviews, media coverage and all. Worked my ass off for a good 15 hours everyday-no breaks. I thought I was done with writing off bad debts and on the roll to a great 2009.
On Christmas Eve, I fell out with Tina. Enough was enough. Being taken for granted, I was. You suddenly saw a side of your so called best friend in Australia that you never saw. Whatever contract that was drawn up meant nothing, even the standards she had set for the both of you were not honoured. They took the credit whilst you slogged away. Even your domestic life took a toil. She tried to pick a fight despite your long tolerance but she didn't choose her battles wisely. It was the straw that broke the camel's back. I walked out. So she became the last bad debt I wrote off for 2008. Swift and fast, I left. I have not looked back.
2008- I thought I was once again a rising star. But it's a story of riches to rags.
Next week, I start a new job as a Waitress at a fine dining establishment. It was exactly the same restaurant I took my chefs to dine and learn up the concepts not too long ago .
Ground zero, I start from in 2009.
I have lost my 2008 weather worn anxiety. Instead, I am smiling and anticipating an interesting year ahead.
2008 came and left in a blink. I remember boarding many planes to many places;experiencing many cock-ups, detours and delays; and then missing some. My bumpy plane rides have thematically summed up my journey of that year.
2008 was a busy year. The year opened with a play of arpeggios, what with aplenty social activities, lots of sex, intimacies, booze and break ups. By May, I stopped working as my frail nerves got the better of me. I was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. The ghost of my break up with DL would creep up every so often to tug at my heart where I was made to face myself squarely about how screwed up I always felt about my behaviour. Somewhere deep in the depths of my mind, I experienced regret despite how convicted I am (even to this day) that my confession to the truth of my secret life to him was a good decision.
Then there was the Old Boy. Ah the Old Boy- something of an obsession which I love and hate. He is like a case of my sinusitis that never quite goes away in my life- I don't even know quite how to breathe properly through my nose anymore. Yes, the Old Boy is just like sinusitis- a bad case that I suffer from, that is. I constantly lived in regret and love for him. Maybe he could have really loved me. My mind replayed January 2008 and March 2008 over one too many a time and I lay in bed wanting him and hearing that sweet melodic voice call me “sweetheart” once more. Many times, I tried weaning off him but I never successfully did and then there was always the other side of the story- the Old Boy was always there. Like a dangling carrot, he places himself strategically in the way of my life. A mocking moon he is- the Old Boy watches over me and isn't too far away. I wondered countlessly to myself what was the reason for his existence in my life and the what ifs. What if I never cheated on him with the Koran? Would we have kept going? We had a lot of fate really- somehow I was home in Singapore quite often in 2008, which made a longer term affair more viable and then there was this strange coincidence of his office moving really close to my house. The stars were so perfectly aligned to convenience us for a rendezvous. We could have had a real relationship. I would have been happy with our arrangements, though god knows how long I could handle the thought of him fucking some young late teens or twenty-somethings on the side when he gets bored with humouring me. The Old Boy is very good at taunting me by not giving himself to me. But he would have demanded all of me.
With my emotional instability, work and the people at work irritated the shit out of me. I was walking on the tightrope whilst I kept my wits about me. My anxiety levels at work was hitting a crescendo and with the Old Boy constantly on MSN giving me grief (and which I foolishly allowed myself to gravitate towards him), I often experienced the tightening of my chest and I felt myself losing it. I was about to hit a lowpoint in my life...
Came June, I was on the mission to heal myself. With work out of the way and my wish to potentially kiss the corporate world a final goodbye (having felt that my boss left me an irreversible bad taste in my mouth towards the end plus the association with this historical lowpoint of my life which has since imprinted a phobia in me), I decided to re-locate home (not the best decision either since subconsciously, I wanted to be closer to the Old Boy).
I went on a pilgrimage because I knew that my heart that was used to wretchedness and my emotions prone to depression needed a combined mental and physical challenge. I had to work myself hard to surmount the insurmountable and perhaps then I could understand or come to a realisation point in my healing journey that there is Hope that I could get better one day. Coping on a day-to-day basis shouldn't be the bare minimum of how I could live, which I have been doing for a good decade at that stage. So I went to meditate at a monastery and later set off to trek up the Everest Base Camp. Imagine me, a weakling!
I remember during my trek up to the Everest Base Camp and we must be passing the village of Tengboche, we passed an area with many tombstones and plague stones to honour the memory of the many brave hearted who attempted to scale the Mount Everest. It was a dreary day. The landscape appeared foreboding with the grey clouds overshadowing us and the winds were strong. I trudged on and felt the Old Boy with me (feeling somewhat comforted and ironic- for he was a big reason for my need to go on this grand trip), his watch strapped around my wrist. A special watch it was to have marked the milestones of our lives- me trekking to Everest Base Camp and years before, him running his first marathon at age 39.
Months before in March 2008, I was in Chicago with a bunch of colleagues and over seafood and wine, we talked about our dreams. Mackie, who is a physically fit and disciplined guy first mentioned about trekking up the Everest Base Camp as one of the things he would want to do before he dies. I was awestruck because the word Everest to me was unattainable. In August/September 2008, there I was trekking up towards the foot of the king of all mountains. I held a smile in my heart. I remember leaving my career with trepidation as I had no back up plans. But the doors do open to other things. On most trekking days, I cursed and sweared for taking on such an arduous journey. I wasn't particularly fit but my stubborn pride in that instance, had turned into a blessing. I wasn't about to abandon my trek halfway as it would be too embarrassing for me, what with my announcement to friends that I was embarking on a grand journey- I had to be the first amongst people I knew who have made it there!
Towards the final legs of my journey, I remember experiencing a bad headache from the high altitude and had vomitted all of what little contents there were of my liquid breakfast. Throughout my trek, I survived mainly on garlic soup as I had lost my appetite from my previous week of illness when I was sightseeing around Nepal. But I belived in the power of meditation and insisted on trekking up to the village of Gorashep. I meditatively trekked up the situated at around 5000m and ironically, my trekking guide noticed that I walked faster than the usual. That afternoon, after I dumped my bags at the guest house and had lunch, we continued our trek. We made it to Everest Base Camp and was one day ahead of schedule.
During my pilgrimage, I had much time to think but at the same time, so little. Every energy spent on this arduous journey required my utmost concentration. I noted the physical strength and resilience of the Sherpas who carried with on their backs at least 70kg worth of goods each walking from villages to villages up the steep of the trek roads. I was also ever so grateful too that my ever attentive trekking guide who wanted me to save a few US dollars each day carried most of my backpack and held my hand (and offered to piggy back me) as I was confronted by my fear of great nature- the gushing waterfalls and rivers where we had to walk sideways on a thin mental pole to get across villages and one slip would have resulted in us being swept away by the waves to the point of no return and the steep edges of the cliffs that we had to trek through one too many occasions. Then on my way down, we were stuck in a village for two more days, my schedule brought back by two days. Life took a new tempo when I was in the mountains. One thing I came to realise was that you couldn't fight the great natures of life. Our time was controlled by weather and being in the mountains with primitive travelling means, many things didn't quite matter. I came to a part realisation that perhaps I was too bogged down with the material things of life. That, I even meant my senseless feelings for the Old Boy, my depression and all. I realised I tend to hold on too strongly on things. Maybe if I were to die there and then, I wonder do I have any real regrets of not having done something I could have done? The mountains has since alter my perspective, maybe combined with the meditation- it did transform my soul. A few weeks after I returned, I got news that all passengers flying on Yeti Airlines to Lukla, typically the starting point to trek the Everest Base Camp have died in a plane crash. I travelled on Yeti Airlines just a few weeks before too, the same route and twice we were forced to fly back to Kathmandu due to poor visbility and then I missed the first plane back to Kathmandu on my way back due to poor visibility and was stuck in that small town for two days. I am still alive. I am lucky.
Life is ever so fragile and moments transcient, I mused.
My age is catching up with the natural cycles of life. I was made a bridesmaid once more in September 2008. I remember two years before, Danielle has made me promise to be back as her bridesmaid when she got married. She wasn't even being proposed then. Then the following summer whilst I was back home in Singapore, I caught sight of a shimmering more than one carat stone on the left of her fourth finger. I questioned her and she smiled.
So there, she got married at the Hyatt Hotel. It was a very meaningful wedding for I knew the groom too many moons ago with Danielle when we were a mere seventeen. I remember the groom asking me for a dance during Orientation and in his flirty, swaggering manner, he too tried his hands at charming me. But Danielle had captured his imagination all these years despite them having many other relationships over. He always went back to her. It felt like a high school reunion as I caught up with his best men- only 12 years ago, we were in our uniforms. They still had to tease me about my green pinafore. I was made a compere that night and so was Knife. Knife was another gangster character in junior college who has now done well for himself in the banking industry. He never stopped trying to be flirty with me even till now (although I heard that he is probably getting married soon). He noted that I was pretty much still my larger than life personality (thank goodness he met up with me post Nepal, with traces of my last decade of life hidden from view). Subsequently, Knife attempted to meet up with me and quite strangely at times, he would ring me during the late of the night...
After the wedding, I rushed off past midnight to meet up with Harry, having only closed in no more than two hours of sleep the previous night from partying and then waking up early to be at the bride's house that morning. I was still partying like an eighteen year old and not slowing down in my merry making. Harry was also attending an old classmate's wedding at the Oriental Hotel (he had to tell me Mr. London was there too). I got Knife to drop me off at the Oriental and Harry and I caught a cab to head for the clubs. I had so much to update him since I just got back from Nepal six days before and he had just been back from his 3-month long sailing trip. Then I also wanted to update him about my latest caught up with the Koran, his high school friend.
We were already headed into the club as we continued to updating information to each other quickly. Then Harry suddenly alerted to me that by the way, the Koran is coming to the club tonight with his girlfriend. Would I mind? I said that was cool because in my head I was pleased with our being candid with each other.
When we finally saw him and his new hot babe girlfriend, I smiled at him. The Koran looked awkward. Subsequently, a day or two later I logged onto my facebook account and realised that he wrote me a not so nice message. So there-it was little wonder. Comically, Harry had said to me to not worry as I looked really hot tonight with my new china doll hairdo and short pink cheong sam- I had the wow factor.
Recently, I learnt that the Koran has got married. I think it must be sometime in November or December. Wow- I thought. We had that last conversation in September and he mentioned about us best not keeping in touch because he didn't want to jepordise his relatively new and blosoming relationship with this new girlfriend. What can I say but wow? People do act fast and trust making life decisions in a matter of months. Maybe he is sure she is the One.
Just one year ago, the Koran wonders if he would ever get married. After all, he is a progressive Muslim with a lifestyle residing on the wild side but having traditional parents and as a filial son, he would have found finding an on par partner of the same religion challenging. But voila, he found her. She is probably the girl who he could happily spend the rest of his life and she be his one and only. Good on him- I am happy for them.
Exactly, just one year ago whilst the Koran and I had an affair, I was with the Old Boy. My feelings in Jan 2008 is still the same one year on. People do move on and you wonder you are still left behind. What happen to emotional progressions and your theory of histories confounding histories, Miss P?
By October 2008, I was mentally ready to start life over again. But before so, I had to write off a few people. I swore Nano out of my life then as I deemed he made a bad friend (we have since resumed our friendship) and then there was Big M. Few times after I have returned to Singapore from Nepal, he had asked me to give him two weeks to sort out his work and family from his busy flying schedule before he could spend time with me.
I didn't have two weeks, I told Big M. Ironically, on my last week at the foot spa with the Old Boy, Big M had texted to proposition a rendezvous at Ballantine that night. I declined. Getting over the Old Boy was more than enough work, I had DL awaiting my return to Australia on the other end. I was getting ready to embrace a whole new life. There were all the social bad debts, like the global financial crisis of 2008 that needed to be written off my life. A clean slate was what I needed.
“Not everyone gets a second chance. So treasure it ” Josie said to me over dinner the last week before I left Singapore. He meant my relationship with DL. I pondered too overmy good fortune and mentally took note of the men I have known in my life, be they close friends or lovers. Infidelity seemed to be the hallmark of their lives. Half, murky lives these people lead. What their other halves don't know.
DL, in contrast, has always been a transparent man. So pure and almost righteous that he questioned the reason of infidelities, especially in married life. I quietly told him I do understand why. He would reply firmly, “It is people who don't understand themselves well from the very beginning and what they want out of life to become prone to such errors in their lives.” For him to have overlook my fallacies and infidelities as he promised, I know he must love me.More so than he loves himself...
So yes, I returned to Sad Town in October 2008. I was in business partnership with Tina. We got the raving food reviews, media coverage and all. Worked my ass off for a good 15 hours everyday-no breaks. I thought I was done with writing off bad debts and on the roll to a great 2009.
On Christmas Eve, I fell out with Tina. Enough was enough. Being taken for granted, I was. You suddenly saw a side of your so called best friend in Australia that you never saw. Whatever contract that was drawn up meant nothing, even the standards she had set for the both of you were not honoured. They took the credit whilst you slogged away. Even your domestic life took a toil. She tried to pick a fight despite your long tolerance but she didn't choose her battles wisely. It was the straw that broke the camel's back. I walked out. So she became the last bad debt I wrote off for 2008. Swift and fast, I left. I have not looked back.
2008- I thought I was once again a rising star. But it's a story of riches to rags.
Next week, I start a new job as a Waitress at a fine dining establishment. It was exactly the same restaurant I took my chefs to dine and learn up the concepts not too long ago .
Ground zero, I start from in 2009.
I have lost my 2008 weather worn anxiety. Instead, I am smiling and anticipating an interesting year ahead.
