3 January 2010

Staring Upward...

It's one of my favourite days of the year today, and that is because today is Aubrey's 20th birthday. Happy birthday!

One clear umbrella, to be used for stargazing in the rain, apparently. Good. Only Aubrey would come up with something this quirky. My birthday (which has recently been relisted on Facebook as December 10, in an attempt the "inevitable" happy birthday messages that overflow the Facebook pages of people with more than five friends. As yet, I've managed to dodge this phenomena) is five weeks away and to the best of my knowledge I'll be spending it in a small room reading more research than my brain has room for.

For once, I can't actually think of something I would like. Take note. This will probably never happen again. Last year, I tried to go swimming at West Wave in Waitakere City, but slipped on the driveway while checking the mail, putting a stop to my swimming dreams not only for that day, but the following six. It eventually healed and only close inspection of what was the wound site displays any evidence of my clumsiness.

Unfortunately for me, the scars I acquired from riding my bike down a bank into a blackberry bush, and falling onto asphalt in an unrelated-but-on-the-same-bike incident, are more obvious. Not that handy, when your new year's resolution is to get so classy that should you get passed by this guy, he might consider stopping to snap a pic. I mean, if you've seen what I tend to get around in, you'll know that at this point in time, it's pretty unlikely. Today, for example, I went shoe shopping in a pair of white Nike running shorts (even though, in reality, it's been almost three months since I even though about running) and a bleach-spotted racer back tank top from Supre.

It's okay. I've got a year, and so twelve issues of Vogue magazine, to sort myself out.

I've enjoyed reading up on the new year's resolutions of others, courtesy of Facebook, in the last 48 hours. They range from staying alive, to "calming down", to marrying a South American man. As I mentioned yesterday, the guys I spent new year's with forgot about theirs. Oops. I might do some Wiki research on alcohol tonight. I'm intrigued to know exactly what it is about it that causes black spots in memory. I have whole nights I'd like back (okay, just one. I am really not as much of a binge drinker as I make out to be), and I definitely know others that do, too.

Speaking of which, time to start upholding the Honour Code. I may have been found in the grass outside my friend's house with a Corona in my hand at 7am, enjoying the early morning 2010 sun, but I'm willing to forgo that if you guys are. Hopefully this year everyone will be seeing a lot less of a drunken, disheveled me in town (well, that's a given considering my plane leaves in about seven hours), hearing a lot less of my sailor mouth, and enjoying a more reserved, modest young Iris who lives as per the rules. That's the goal.

And since this year's first meal was Indian pancakes (they exist) and not a cheeseburger from Wendy's (in fact, since May 1st of last year, I haven't touched a cheeseburger. Go on, be impressed), I'm willing to give the big one a go - no fast food. Can I do it? I'm going to say yes. I successfully gave up the following items of food and drink last year:
- V
- Lift Plus
- Frosty Floats (actually, the fact that I ever liked those things kind of amazes me now.)
- Fanta and L&P
- Cheeseburgers
- Red Licorice
- Big Macs

Ideally, I would have also given up chocolate, french fries, chicken burgers, and two other things, but it just didn't happen.

Actually, have you guys noticed that new year's resolutions always seem to be about restricting ourselves? "I'm going to do less of this" or "eat less of this" or "stop doing this". I'm going to go all, Antoine de Saint-Exupery on you for a bit here, but why do we not have resolutions like, "I"m going to start collecting butterflies" or even "I'm going to start noticing what peoples' voices sound like". Seriously, if you know me in real life, don't do that one. I have a horrible voice, one I'm going to refer to as "scrapy" because it reminds me of an obnoxious door opening. I also pick up fleeting vocal nuances from the people I'm with - at new year's, I swear I sounded Sri Lankan when I got home. A scrapy, obnoxious door-like Sri Lankan, but a Sri Lankan.

To that end, let's make some good ones. Let's be happier than last year. Let's make more out of every situation. Let's suck everything we can out of life!

And stop eating McDonald's. Haha.

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