Liz and Luke are at my house right now, staying over so that we may celebrate the New Year by going to a party in Fishtown with C & P. I had a little time this morning to write the last pages of my current notebook, something I really wanted to finish b/c Jodie bought me this nice, new, big journal (and a DVD player. Thanks, my bitch), and so I ended up writing about the important or significant events of the last 12 months; working at Drexel, new regular writing gigs for two publications, the summer of dating two people at once and getting migraines from it, the fact that no one I know or love died this past year (the most shocking death for me was the suicide of David Foster Wallace. And I didn't even attempt to read Infinite Jest), that I didn't get ill or sustain any physical injuries, that I didn't get any more cats or incur additional debt. In fact, this has been my most financially prosperous year to date, and I have made big strides toward paying off my credit card and also finished my last car payment in December. Have not saved a lot of money, but I'm hoping that once my credit card has been paid off, I can save lots and lots per month. So then I guess you're supposed to think about what you want for the next year. I prefer odd numbered years to even ones. I'm not going to make any resolutions though except to try to be more physically present and attentive on a regular basis. And to take a trip. I want to go to Spain this year, maybe for my birthday. I'm not quitting anything. I don't have any big purchases that I want. I'd rather save $ this year and buy a house next year. I have pretty much everything I need right now.