2011

It has been a great year. Coming to New York has been the best thing that has ever happened. Yet I've been sad and lonely and broken more times than I can count this year, and happy and full of life even more than that. I guess I'm thankful that I'm still breathing - we all should be.

This year has been a year of learning. I've learned that it's more important to be a good person than to be smart or clever or funny - not that those things aren't important. But they are secondary. The only thing we have in this short existence is the presence of other people to help us on our little way. It is the mystery of our lives, a nonsensical proposition we accept in order not to feel so alone - and we are accepted in order for others not to feel so alone. We have no reason to believe that anybody else exists, but the assumption is necessary - it defies logic. Yet it is not merely comforting but necessary.

I am glad for the presence of other people in my small, dark and terrifying world. It makes the nights bearable and the days joyful. My dad was right - and Zarathustra was right - you can live on the mountaintop as long as you want, but out of love you must descend into the valley to share and be shared. I miss my old friends and I cherish my new ones. I accept them unreservedly.

Every new year is bittersweet - I treasure the accumulation of the detritus of thought, of work, of love and friendships, and yet I know that I am one year closer to not existing anymore. At this age I rail against the thought. I am too much in love. But barring any bus accidents, it will get easier. Death is a slow process, and I hope by then to have accumulated the presence of the people I treasure the most to make my passing pleasant.

For 2010 I give thanks for the presence of people. For 2011 I resolve to be peaceful, to give thanks for kindness, and to be kind.