there goes 2010

I LOVED IT.

I hated chunks of it.



New Year's Eve last year, where was I? Wimborne... I hadn't thought I was going to do anything, and then someone demanded my presence in a random house belonging to strangers in Wimborne, so that's where I ended up. It was a good night, running along the road kissing Andy and holding hands with him and Jack. Very strange that that was the beginning of the year.

I didn't know Maya yet - hadn't been to her wonderful house in Cornwall with the scary puppy and the brandy and watching Xavier Rudd and Ben Howard, and then driving the boat around the harbour. And then cooking everyone dinner, drinking too much and smoking weed. I hadn't even heard of Hop Farm Festival, wouldn't have dreamed I'd have seen Bob Dylan by the end of the year. Hadn't fallen completely for Ani Difranco, yet, I think. Had hardly heard of Johnny Flynn, let alone imagined I'd have spoken to him within a year.

I didn't know Jack really. Didn't think of myself as someone who could 'do' relationships. Could never take myself seriously in that way (and still can't). Didn't think I'd be leaping into the ocean on summer solstice in my underwear, being followed by him. Didn't know how much alcohol I'd be consuming this year. Hadn't had sex yet. Hadn't been simulateneously desperate to be near someone and determined to not be. Hadn't had tonsillitus yet.

I already knew how to play the Nigun Concerto, but I hadn't played it with the orchestra yet. Violin was a much bigger part of my life than it is now, as were piano and singing.

I still lived in Dorset, had lived there for almost eight years, was antsy to get out of there but loving how well I knew it all. I hadn't been to: Yellowstone (snow), Yosemite (bears), Nevada, Montana, Utah, Wyoming, The Great Salt Lake (dawn), Salt Lake City (Mormon messing) and LA (got threatened by guy straight out of jail). I had been to Solana beach (sun), San Francisco (multiple walking tours), Berkeley (frozen yogurt) - but I was going to visit them all again, differently. I didn't know the full meaning of The Green Tortoise.

I had never dyed my hair, but had long had an ambition to dye it blue, which I would finally realise in the summer. Got to do that again. I started smoking. I quit a couple of times, and then properly when I got ill.

I was still in school, didn't know I'd be at Exeter the next year, didn't know I'd have a wonderful flat and know so many people, didn't know I'd be the kind of student in my first term who pulls all nighters, always offers guests whisky and whose room is always a tip to be picked through for treasures like tea cups.

And there's still a few days left.

New Years Eve, I ought to be in Cardiff, drunk in pubs, bars, and finally clubs... with the crazy girls I know from Exeter. It'll be messy, hilarious, someone will probably cry, jess and nancy will probably get on each other, I'll look pale and yellow in the reflections in the mirror, my eyes and lips crudely drawn as if I'm one of those paper men, stretched out, unfolded...

So.

What about next year?

So many hopes. To see Ani Difranco, which ought to happen as there are tickets, and things. I hope to get a job in California over the summer, but if it doesn't happen, I hope to travel around England, to get a job in England, to go to music festivals in England. And then I'm going to be in the states for university, next year. How odd.

I want to get better at country/folk fiddle, like the guy in the mountain firework company's recordings. I'd like to write more, too. To do more drugs, but smoke less. Comfort eat less. Spend less. Steal more. Maybe limit the alcohol intake, a bit, maybe less than 1000 units a term...

I want to be healthier. As in, not ill.

I want to visit Plymouth and Oxford.

And find a more comfortable bed.