2012, y’all! Twenty. Twelve. It is upon us. It is standing at the threshold. It is merrily waving its metaphorical junk all up in our collective faces. And I’m TOTALLY INTO IT.
2011 was…Christ, you guys, I don’t even know. It was amazing, and the best possible year for me in a lot of ways. It was the hardest year, that’s for sure. It was a year that demanded a lot of effort, which — to be completely honest — has never been my forte. And while my overall marks this year could hardly be considered perfect, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t proud of myself for the things I accomplished, both big and small.
But next year! Next year is WHERE IT IS AT. I don’t have resolutions for next year so much as I have stringent personal demands. Next year will be comprised of 100% excellence, across the board. The main component of that excellence? Travel. I want to do a lot of travelling in the coming year. It occurred to me quite suddenly that I kind of know people, like, all over the damn place. I do! And I’ve never, ever taken advantage of it. I’ve always thought of travel as A Big Deal; it requires airfare, and then hotels, and then some sort of concrete purpose to hold it all together. For some reason, I’ve never thought to go somewhere just because. It’s time that started happening.
That’s not to say my travelling this year won’t ever have a purpose. In fact, a lot of it will be quite overstuffed with it; positively regurgitating purpose, if you will (and you probably shouldn’t). I’m driving down to SoCal all by myself on the first weekend of the new year for Meghan’s fancy L.A. birthday party with all the skinny, beautiful L.A. people, and I will drink and chat and not freak out because honestly, who cares? A lot of my life has been spent actively avoiding social situations that put me in the vicinity of skinny, beautiful people, and that’s most certainly energy that could be spent better elsewhere. So. I will have a grand old time. I will stay with Meghan in her charming guest house, and I will maybe tool around a bit and visit the Hollywood Forever cemetery or check out the Chateau Marmont or just stare at the Hollywood Tower apartment building because it is my favorite. Then I’ll head out to Anaheim and visit Amy, and down to San Diego to visit Forrest. Delightful.
February through March will be spent living up in Sonora while I’m in Gypsy at Sierra Rep, and that’ll give me the opportunity for a couple of fabulous day-trips to Yosemite and Tahoe. As soon as Gypsy ends, it’s off to Manhattan for Reynaldi’s 30th birthday and a couple days of couch surfing. (WHO WANTS TO GIVE ME A PLACE TO SLEEP, COPIOUS NEW YORK FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES?) May, at the moment, is wide-open; no school, no shows, nothin’ but time. I’m thinking there needs to be some kind of wacky road-trip in there, filled with kitschy locales and mix CDs and montages of youthful shenanigans (before my youth DISAPPEARS ENTIRELY OH GOD I’M SO VERY OLD).
June? L-O-N-D-O-N. London, England. For a full week. I…can’t, you guys. I just can’t. If I even think about it for more than about five seconds at a time, I start waving my hands uncontrollably and going “EEEEEEEEE!!!!” until someone gives me a good, open-palmed slap across the face. They probably won’t even let me in the country, I’m going to be such a jabbering, weeping mess. Which is probably just as well, as I’m sure I’d be arrested within the first ten minutes for locking myself inside a phone-booth I’ve hastily painted blue, insisting that it is my TARDIS. Apologies in advance, England. Apologies in advance.
August will see me making my first-ever sojourn to Connecticut to visit Reynaldi at Yale, and watch his production of The Secret in the Wings at the Yale Cabaret. Then it’s probably Disneyland with Tony in September or October, provided he has not left me on account of the fact that I will apparently not be around at all this entire year. As for November and December? THAT IS ENTIRELY TOO FAR IN THE FUTURE. HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN? I AM NOT YOUR CLAIRVOYANT MONKEY, JEEZ.
The bottom line, folks, is that I want to go to all of the places next year. ALL OF THEM. Where do you live? Do you live somewhere cool? Want to let me sleep on your couch for a night? Because I will totally visit. You can show me the sights, and maybe we can get a slice of pizza, and then we’ll hit some cool late-night spot, and we’ll get all caught up in the excitement of the moment and I’ll end up letting you get to first base, and then things will be super-awkward, and I’ll have to leave the next morning and we’ll be all “so, uh, we’ll keep in touch,” but we totally won’t because we’re both too embarrassed.
IT’LL BE SO GREAT.