On the last day of 2009

I woke up in my east village apartment to a snow fall I didn’t know was coming, took a nearly empty uptown V train to work, arrived covered in white and was happy.

(but seriously…thank god, thank god, thank god 2009 is over.)

my little brother’s high school

Last night at MTV’s 2009 Video Music Awards (finally back in New York City) Taylor Swift won Best Female Video only to have Kanye West run on stage and interrupt her acceptance speech saying that Beyonce made “one of the best videos of all time.” Later, Beyonce won for Best Video of the Year (because, yes Single Ladies really was a great video) and invited Taylor back on stage to try again. My question is, how did he get up there so quickly in the first place? If that was staged by MTV then I feel sick.

To see exactly what happened or to watch other highlights from last night–like Jay Z’s performance, Madonna’s poignant tribute to Michael Jackson, the New Moon extended trailer or Lady Gaga’s weirdness click here.

reason to believe

http://youtube.seeqpod.com/m/Counting%20Crows%20-%20A%20Long%20December.mp3?t=276a2066055a860073a77860bb725feba30e0f3f3523f4a906e849fde569776ed211512625c771a3&h=4b53673cc1761e2030816b56db35a64f69137f2a
Counting Crows, A Long December

Most Holy Redeemer Church, NYC

I cant remember the last thing that you said as you were leaving

In the last year I have moved and moved and moved and lived in four very different, yet very fabulous places. First, it was from a tragically beautiful mansion where I lived with two dozen sister friends. On weekends we would crawl out of bed, head to the gym and ease into morning bagels from Bruggers, fighting with each other and our memories as to who ate more drunken 3 am corn dogs the night before–slouched down with backs against the mini kitchen wall, or knees hanging over the dirty counter top mumbling always, about this or that boy. Second it was on my own, when I could no longer find the joy in being constantly surrounded, to a charmingly perfect double decker first apartment. For months, and I really do mean months, I would wake five mornings a week, lace my tennis shoes and head outside, try desperately to remember where I parked and drive myself, my water bottle and my ipod all the way down Lincoln and over to my 2008 lifesaver. Then I moved to the park. To a fabulously loving home where I woke each morning to the sound of little feet running across the hardwood floors. At night when I laid in my bed I could hear the heat ticking and creaking above my head as it moved to heat the house. At first I would lie awake cursing the sound, leaving me tossing and turning unsatisfied. Then over time, it become comforting and soothed me to sleep for many nights. Now I don’t have to miss it because I have moved from one creaking heater to another ticking pipe-both above my sleeping head. My final stop in 2008 was out of sweet Denver, Colorado, my favorite little-big city, to an obscenely small, yet happily yellow-walled apartment that I get to call home in New York, New York.

If you think that I could be forgiven

I ran dozens and dozens of miles-dozens in races, dozens in parks, dozens in streets. Seasons passed-snow fell, rain fell, leaves fell. I wrote thousands and thousands of words-thousands in my own handwriting, thousands for others, thousands for myself. People changed-got engaged, got married, got better.

I wish you would