New Year.

So many times, I find myself wishing there were a reset button for life. I suppose New Year's Eve is as close as I'll ever get.

This year, I did many things. I clawed my way out of an unfortunate and miserable relationship that far outlived its passion. I graduated law school. I took the bar exam. I passed the bar exam. I got a job as an attorney. I got my own place. I started dating normal people. I'm refreshed by how simple life can be when you make the changes that you know you have to make. I'm also encouraged to think that anything is possible if you work hard enough for it.

So, I embark on the journey that I've always needed. Here's to you, 2011. Let's make it worthwhile.

Carol of the Bells.

Every year, it's progressively more terrible. You get a little more like grandma. I get a little less like you. We don't talk about anything of substance, and I count down the hours until it's socially acceptable to leave.

Guilt, from the minute I walk in the door through the phone call when I return home. Then you ask why I don't visit more.

Awful. One more week until this season of obligations, both financial and emotional, is over for another eleven months. It can't come soon enough.

In good humor?

"You're really funny. Most women aren't, but you are."

Maybe this is the cheesiest line anyone has ever said to me, but it struck a deeper chord for me than "you're beautiful" or "you have a nice body."

Dating is so awful. You play that game-- does he like me? Do I like him? What if he likes me more? What if he doesn't? What if this isn't really the right time for a relationship for one of us? Is this a rebound? Is it serious? Do I want it to be serious? He's attractive, but do I really want to spend my evenings and weekends with him? What if he doesn't like me? What if he has another girlfriend? What if his family hates me? What if he's bad in bed?

The list goes on. So, when someone says something about a genuine, unchanging part of my personality, it gets to me more than the superficial points. My body and face will change with time, but my humor won't. Maybe it was just a line, but it was the best one anyone has used on me in a long time.

It was freedom that I wanted, freedom that I got.

Everything has been left behind. I am a new person. Happier, more interesting, with better perspective on what I want and what matters in life.

Today, I have been in my own apartment with no serious visitors for almost 2 weeks. It's a lot of work. I do everything. The cooking, the cleaning, the bill paying, the laundry, taking care of the cat. I go to work every day, faithfully. My apartment is kind of sad--I can hear my neighbor's TV blasting through the floor at almost all hours; the maintenance man shakes items off my walls when he clears the ice from the path. But the freedom to go to the gym, to see friends, to visit my family, to have my family over when I want--it makes the misery of cleaning my car off every day and having a few cracks in the walls worthwhile.

At last, I am the person I have wanted to be since I was 16 years old. This may have been the "year of the tiger," but next year will be mine, no matter what sign it's formally associated with.