Friday, December 31, 2010

My Year: A Review and Recap

2010 was a pretty big year for me. Lots of stuff happened. Normally, on the last day of the year, I like to sit around thinking about the momentous occasions that have taken place throughout the past 365 days and nights while I listen to songs like “A Long December” by Counting Crows (because who doesn’t?) and “February 15th” by Bright Eyes.

This year, though, I’ve decided to recap some of the significant events of my year, while not listening to Counting Crows. It’s not that I don’t dig the song, it’s just that if you listen to the same song at the end of every single year that pounds it into your head that maybe the coming year will be better than the last, it kind of gives you a pessimistic view of the year that’s ending.

Fuck that. I had a pretty decent year, in some ways. And, since I’m a huge narcissist who likes to write things about himself in the first person, and since I think people want to read it if it’s put into a public forum, I decided to write about it.

-I made my Mom cry. Twice. But in a good way. The first was because I graduated college. I don’t remember much about the actual graduation ceremony, because I spent most of it Tweeting nonsense because I was still drunk and didn’t want to really walk in the first place (@scottmuska). I do remember afterward, though, when my parents took me to lunch and I drank my first ever shot with them. That was kind of a momentous occasion for somebody who ranks drinking in his Top 3 favorite activities alongside masturbation and eating -- after much thought, actual sex was booted from the Top 3, due to infrequency. Later on, my Mom cried a little bit. She doesn’t cry too often, so it meant a lot.

A week later, I was leaving my childhood home two days before I started my first job. I was about to get into my car, and my Mom started crying, again because she was proud of me, she said. That might’ve been the proudest of myself I’ve ever been, in that moment. Well, it’s up there anyway.

-We had this thing called senior week at the end of our final college semester. It was between finals and graduation day, and I hung out with my college friends for most of it. It was an amazing time, and kind of our swan song. We’d spent four years doing a lot of dumb shit, always together, and this was the end of it. One day during this week, we had Beer Olympics, and we won. The teamwork was the best part.

-I was pretty broke around spring break time, so I forewent a trip to Florida in favor of a week in majestic Tidioute, Pennsylvania. Basically, it’s the middle of nowhere. A bunch of us went to camp, and bonded the entire week. While we were there, I helped actually brand one of my friends with a fire poker. I also ate a lot of red meat and shot a gun for the first time in my life. This place was the closest to being in Woody Creek living like Hunter S. I might ever get.

-As I mentioned, I got a job. It’s at a newspaper in central Pennsylvania; I had to start somewhere. I dig it, though. I get to write all day and stuff, and one of the days somebody actually called me a journalist. I’m actually doing professionally what I’ve wanted to do for as long as I can recall. Or at least since I figured out I wouldn’t make it to the NBA. This helps me sleep a little bit at night, but not much.

-The day I found out about this job was probably one of the most memorable of the year. I’d pretty much figured I wasn’t going to get it, for one reason or another, but then my editor called me one morning.

I was sleeping at the time of the call, so I rolled out of bed and answered my phone. I sat down on the little chair in my bedroom and braced myself for rejection. Instead, I got a job offer, and immediately began freaking out.

Yep. I accepted my first job as a professional staff writer while I was wearing only boxer briefs.

-In June, I moved into my first real apartment, where I live alone. It’s amazing having your own space. Girls have been there, but not romantically. Actually, it has been the exact opposite: Something resembling a romance that had taken place over a period of years came to a conclusion in that apartment. I’m hoping to change that pattern this year. Ladies?

-In July, my family’s dog, who I had grown up with, died. She lived a long time, though. Long enough in people years to have her driving learner’s permit. I wrote an essay about it that got me probably the most recognition I’ve gotten for anything I’ve written so far. So, yeah, I guess in some way I ended up profiting from my dog’s death, which is weird, but I don’t think she would’ve minded. She probably would’ve given me a pound. Yes, Tori did know how to give pounds. I taught her that once.

-I saw Ben Folds play “The Luckiest” for his wife the night before Valentine’s Day. It made me re-evaluate my attitude concerning living and dying alone. That was a good night.

-I had several encounters and interactions that proved to me that people are not always who they seem to be, and a person must be very careful when they’re trying to imagine a certain person into existence. A person with these traits you’re imagining may be out there, but they might not be that person you’re trying to attach these traits to.

-I grew out my hair, and then I cut it all off. I’ve finally made peace with the fact that I can’t do much more than rock a buzz cut, but I’ll probably still keep trying. Maybe someday I’ll end up with a fucking awesome haircut, and I’ll be very excited about it. Because there is no better feeling in the world than doing something even you thought -- even fleetingly -- that you couldn’t do.

-Fifteen minutes ago, my Mom came into the room and we started talking about something very unserious that quickly became serious. Eventually it came to her telling me that, in life, you can’t spend time doing things that aren’t fulfilling to you or that contribute to the quality of life of others. I could die when I’m 40 from something I have no control over. If I do, I’m probably going to be pissed that I spent so many hours running on a fucking treadmill. You’ve got to do things that make you happy. Hunter S. Thompson had this quote that goes like this: “Kick ass, die young.” I don’t completely agree with that, but you may as well do the ass kicking part, and you may as well get started with it now. Years from now, you’re not going to want to be thinking or saying the words “too late” too often. Because that will make you bitter.

Have a really happy New Year’s celebration. Enjoy yourselves.

1 comment:

Jennifer Susannah Devore said...

I've always found a special beauty in, well, many of The Smiths lyrics, but notably " ... and if a ten-ton bus crashes into us, to die by your side, well what a heavenly way to die." Playing through my head often as I enjoy most every ding-dang moment of my life, My Viking will look at me oddly and wonder what I'm thinking; I then grace him with what he calls my horror film star's tiny voice and sing him said-lyrics.

Last year was damn good, indeed. Cheers! Although, the Good Sir Duritz is correct, "Maybe next year will be better than the last". How could that be bad? If 2K10 rocked, then I say to 2K11, "Bring it.". (In fact, as I write my latest ms sits anxiously in the laptop of one of H-town's top four agencies. Oh, IhopeIhopeIhope!)

As it regards the HST Guide to Life, minus the guns and SoCones, I am a hefty supporter. Except, being too rare to die, I expect to live well into my 400s, like Duncan MacLeod, and do it well and with vigor ... and a Guinness.

Cheers!