New year, new you.

This post is dedicated to Derek Loh, friend, life coach, muse.

Oh hey 2012.  I’m so glad you’re here!  I know the Mayans have been talking shit about you for millennia and all, so I think it’s really cool you showed up to the party.  Some girls would just like, hide, you know?  But you can’t let the apocalypse keep you from living your best life, right?  Just like, you’re so brave.  You’re like, my best friend.  No like, really.  Like, my best.  Do you want some of this Ecstasy?

So somehow Turkey Curry Buffet staff got away without writing a single post for the entire month of December, mostly because they are lazy sloth who spent said entire month going to parties and eating cheeses and dips and drinking champagne directly out of the bottle and opening presents and throwing sparkly wrapping paper in the air like you just don’t care.  But, a new year has dawned, and in the cold, harsh winter light of morn, we have dragged ourselves from our warm bowers, shaken the confetti from our hair, wiped the mascara from under our eyes, and settled down in front of a fat backlog of salacious topics to be covered by TCB in the new year.

Almost exactly a year ago, I wrote about all the magical things I planned to do with the time allotted us by bright, shiny 2011.  Oddly enough, every single thing I resolved to do actually happened.  In fact, some of the things sort of felt like they came true, like wishes, rather than seeming like something I myself accomplished– almost as if, by announcing my hopes for the new year to the universe, the universe responded in kind.

As planned, I canceled my Netflix, I wore the shit out of my knit Uggs, which are now filthy (How on earth do you clean something that at once a shoe and a sweater?), and I worked very hard on giving up my fetish for seedy Euro types.  Although I have not totally relinquished the charms of the musk of tanning oil and the glint of a silver chain tangled in the thicket of chest hair, my friends have held my hand and counseled me through my tougher moments of craving.  One thing I have learned this year is that if you can’t imagine someone fitting in with your best friends (And please believe me when I say that Calum Best would not fit in with my best friends.  Did you know his middle name is Milan?  Milan, people.)  you probably shouldn’t be face down in his or her crotch on a regular basis. It sounds like some seventh grade bromide, but I have decided to embrace the concept, and I have the distinct feeling that every other adult inherently understands this.  I have always been what they call a “late bloomer”.  And also, an idiot.

Now you are probably saying, Wow, Liz, you resolved to wear shoes and not rent movies.  Would you like a cookie?  Perhaps a gold star?  A Little League trophy, you ass?  Patience, patience; there were further things I had resolved to do.  I said I would travel, and I did.  I went to Puerto Rico, and Paris, and and many other places.  This was one of the resolutions with which God seemed to be lending me a helping hand: opportunities for trips kept popping up in unexpected ways, and I didn’t let a lack of money or my absurd fear of airplanes hold me back.  In fact, every time I worried about not being able to afford a trip, extra funds would rather magically turn up in one way or another.  And for flying, I obtained a prescription for an anti-anxiety drug that works so well that, returning home quite sedated from the airport after one trip, I walked immediately to my bedroom, napped for three hours, and woke up to find I had left the front door to my house wide-fucking-open, with the keys in the lock, too.  I said I would be more open to whatever came my way, rather than nervous or scared as I sometimes tend to be, and I was.  I said I would be more friendly to everyone, rather than shy and sullen as I sometimes tend to be, and I was.  I said I would give a dollar to anyone who asked me for one, and I did, for the most part.  I made a joke at the end of that post about how I was going to learn to cook, with absolutely no intention of doing so, and yet even that happened.  Somehow I found myself paging through cookbooks and buying spices and actually making meals! On a stovetop!  That did not come pre-assembled and frozen in a small box!

Finally, I said I would be more sexually irresponsible, and by God, I was.  I made an effort not to overthink my every interaction with certain handsome gentlemen–and I can say that everyone I made out with this year was quite handsome.  But, while it was pleasant to be an unremitting flirt for a turn, I think this year I have a different goal in mind.  Oddly, I am finding this first resolution incredibly difficult to write.  I have typed out and deleted the next sentence about fifty times now.  What I would like… is maybe… possibly… to have a boyfriend.  Amazing, how uncomfortable it makes me to admit that.  And that’s another thing I realized in 2011: that somewhere along the winding road of my twenties, I began to believe that I don’t deserve fidelity, that expecting commitment out of any man makes me some kind of crazy person.  Maybe it’s because I’ve met one too many boys who “just don’t want to be in a relationship right now”, maybe it’s because, in the immortal words of Miranda Hobbes, “I’ve just slept with too many bartenders” (Yup!  I just quoted Sex and the City.  Sorry about the hives you’re probably breaking out in at the moment.), oh, who knows why, but somewhere along the way, I tossed the idea that I might be worthy of some kind of devotion over my shoulder like so many cigarette butts.  I have plenty of self-worth, probably to the point of vanity, but in this one regard, I can’t seem to believe that anyone would want to stick with… just me.  At weddings, sometimes I feel like I am listening to two people speak Russian.  That level of commitment is completely foreign and incomprehensible to me.  Again, I have to say, I am finding this incredibly difficult to confess.  I mean, I’ve certainly said all of this to my friends, but announcing it to the wide world is a whole different kind of humbling.  (Although, who am I kidding?  The only “wide world” reading ole’ Turkey Curry Buffet are those darling friends of mine.)   Well, what do I have to lose by announcing that I would like to have a boyfriend?  I’ll drop my wish like a penny into the well of the universe and go on my merry way.

I actually made a whole list of things I’d like to do before I turn 30, which, unfortunately, is going to occur this July.  (Yup!  I just made so-called bucket list!  You really might want to get some Benadryl or something for those hives.)  I think that instead of holding myself to a mid-year deadline, I’ll give myself all of 2012 to accomplish the lot, because there is a lot of shit on this list.  Maybe the reason I accomplished my resolutions last year was because there was a more reasonable number of them, but hey, I like to think big, and no, I am not talking about that wrinkly piece of man-meat betwixt yo legs. In no particular order:

1. I will eat a Big Mac.  No, I have never had one.  Because ordering a Big Mac when Chicken McNuggets are on the menu is like slapping God in the face for a beautiful gift.

2. I will ride a roller coaster.  Yes, I have ridden a roller coaster, twice, but both were kiddie coasters, one at Hoffman’s Playland in Latham, NY which I’m pretty sure was called the “Jolly Caterpillar” and which I remember audibly rusting as it careened around its elevated track and about which the most thrilling aspect was the sweet upper arm bruises one received by being squashed into the miniature iron carts.  The other I rode at Carowinds, outside of Charlotte, NC which I’m pretty sure was called “Lucy’s Crabby Cabbie” and on which my friends laughed and laughed at my agonized screams and horror-struck countenance as we rode gentle crests and lightly teasing S-curves mere feet off the ground.  Whatever, that shit was terrifying.  I’m really not sure I even want to overcome this fear, but in the continuing spirit of being open to whatever comes my way, I will ride a roller coaster if by some horrible twist of fate I am dragged to an amusement park against my will.

3. I will ride a motorcycle. I just need to find someone who has one.

4. I will get a teeny tiny diamond nose ring or a teeny tiny tattoo or both.  This is another thing I am really not quite sure I want to do, but I’m seriously considering it.  In fact, the only thing that’s really holding me back is that I’m afraid if I get a facial piercing, I will never become heiress of Downtown Abbey.  And I hate the way old tattoos look– all bleedy and fuzzy.

5. I will finish my long-belabored novel.

6. I will pay off all my credit card debt. Probably gonna have to cut down on the travel juuuuust a smidge to pull this one off.

7. I will really and truly quit smoking cigarettes.  Not just for like a weekend, or a week, or a month, or for Lent. Like for real.  Even after singing karaoke, or taking a shot of bourbon.  Or even when I am reeeeally reeeeally pissed off.

Ed. note: I know I’m really bringing the heat with the size and scope of these resolutions, but posting them in public really seemed to help last year, and I need all the help I can get.

8. I will run a marathon.  I plan to do the Nashville Marathon on April 28 if anyone would like to join me.

9. I will take tap dancing lessons OR join the roller derby rec team OR take a web design class OR take lessons in a foreign language.

10. I will buy a ridiculous amount of new underwear.  Actually I already do this, on a regular basis, but why not give myself one goal I am absolutely 100% sure I can accomplish.

11. It would be nice to lose ten pounds, but, as a rule, I don’t diet.  Maybe the marathon will help me torch some cals, braaaa?

12. I will maintain an alarmingly neat and clean room for 30 days straight.  And this, my friends, might be the most difficult resolution of all.

13. I will throw away 50 things.  Because I heard a story about it on NPR.  Because I literally can’t even tell you what’s under my bed and there are for sure at least 50 things down there.  Because I still have jeans I wore in high school in my fucking dresser.  Because why not?

14.  And AFTER I throw away 50 things (and pay off all my credit card debt) I will buy: a) a Tiffany Love necklace, b) a four poster bed, and c) an original piece of art.

15. And adopt a dog.

Seriously, I know this seems crazily unachievable, but, well, I don’t care.

16. I will volunteer somewhere, for someone, in some capacity.  And stop thinking about my own dumb problems so much.

17. Finally, I will read the following books, most of which I should have read as an English major, but which, shamefully, I did not: a) Moby Dick, b) Middlemarch, c) something by Faulkner, d) Infinite Jest.

I know!  I know, I’m probably over-reaching here.  I know, you think I’m crazy.  Well, guess what.  I already knew I was crazy, so I might as well put that little hamster wheel in my mind to good use.  Suck it world.  Here I come.


2 thoughts on “New year, new you.

  1. “Infinite Jest” is great. My friends in Seattle: many of them have motorcycles. If you come here you will have many a motorcycle to ride on. You will like!

  2. Inspiring post! Truly. Two comments I’ll make now: do NOT get a tattoo. Please? They are hard to remove. The tiny nose ring sounds cool and would accomplish the same effect but its not permanent. And when you’re ready to buy art, let me know. One site I like for affordable but original art is 20×200. xoxo

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