So, as of writing this, 2005 is about four hours and forty minutes old, but I'm awake for the moment and I meant to write something to mark the passing of time, if you will.
What did 2004 bring me? I don't know. Any number of things. A number of the friendships I started back in 2003 became real cemented honest things, as I grew to be closer with people I really liked and respected. I continued to grow stronger with the support and love my family gives me freely. I started being more adult in any number of small ways, due mostly in part to my greater exposure to actual adults, who do things like write thank you notes and bake and donate and care.
I got a job I don't hate, that puts me in daily contact with a number of excellent people, and is that much closer to what I actually want to do. And say this for it -- it's rarely boring.
My mom taught me how to knit, and I picked up binding off and purling on my own, trying out new things along the way. Knitting is a big thing for me, actually, an actual hobby, something I do for pleasure, something I do for me. And it's something I can do with my hands, something active and interesting and useful, a simple skill that can be used in so many complicated ways.
I wrote. I wrote less than I wanted to and more than I'd imagined possible, and I did it under my own volition, because I wanted to. I'm developing my rhythm now, getting closer and closer to actually being good at this. The majority of three screenplays, a few short stories, the Hearttaker script, any number of Bookslut and Ostrich Ink articles...
2004 was the year I took more chances, tried more things, became more confident, less afraid. It had its flaws, but what year doesn't? What year doesn't hold the promise of improvements to come? January 1, 2005 -- a day for optimism if ever there was one.