Two Thousand Five

Around the beginning of the year, I don't normally go around reflecting upon the events that have transpired in the last year. Because everybody else does it compulsively.


Once they see the calendar flip over to January, it's like “Ack! I have to look back over the past fifty-two weeks and make a list of things that went well!”

Well, today I'm everybody.

So a year ago, I was living with my parents, in debt to some student loan broker, and I had a customer service job in a music store that fit about as well as a pair of clown shoes.

I was tired, bored, and probably as a result, a crabby jerk.

I tolerated my job long enough to pay off the loan, then quit, moved out of my parents' house and across the state.

What resulted was a lazy vacation that could only be described by quoting Peter Gibbons:

Michael, I did nothing. I did absolutely nothing, and it was everything I thought it could be.

Once I ran out of money and Bravo stopped showing new episodes of Celebrity Poker Showdown during the day, I finally broke down and got my roommate's dad to hire me at his Honda dealership.

I started a digital entertainment music company with some friends and we landed a high-profile title right out of the gate.

I went to a couple of weddings, added a brother-in-law to my Christmas list, went on satellite TV playing sax, and finished reading the entire Hitchhiker's Guide trilogy.

My roommate and I revived an old webcomic from when we were in college. Nobody thinks it's funny except the two of us.

Yale's School of Music received a $100 million gift from an anonymous donor and started offering graduate tuition for free. So I took the GRE, compiled a portfolio of my works, got some letters of recommendation from across the country and applied. (I have yet to fully retract my statements made previously.)

Lessons learned:

So here I am, January 2006. Bored enough to type this all up and post it to an internet no one will read, and probably just as crabby as before.

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