2011: A Year in Review

The year began in Sacramento, on the 13th floor of the Hyatt, passing a bottle of champagne back and forth with my love of the last two years.  Then I was back in San Francisco and beginning a very long streak of 40-hour weeks.  I lived in the Castro with my sister and rode my bike down noisy, bumpy Market St. every morning.  I began listening to my iPod on the ride, which improved it but didn’t make it any less hectic.  I also started wearing a kerchief around my neck to protect my shirt collar from sweat. I’d smile and stride into work each morning, ready to conquer the world of internet marketing.  I packed lunch most every day and after sticking the cold items in the fridge, fired up my little laptop and got to work.  I took lunch alone most days, maybe sitting in the office looking out the window, or if the weather was good out in the sun on the steps at Montgomery and Market.  I got my haircut downstairs at “A Businessman’s Haircut”, and always tipped Benjamin $10.  I made money but saved little.  After work I rode home up the hill and often stopped at Golden Produce for some produce.  I cooked alone or sometimes with sis.  I tried to update my blog and keep up writing commitments to Bleacher Report and Barca Blaugranes.  I took guitar lessons but found little time to practice.  I went to bed early so I wasn’t tired the next day, and 10pm always came too soon.  I pushed through that little barrier that hovers over your bed each morning you have to go to work.

Summer came and Barcelona won La Liga and then the Champions League.  The latter was probably the best sports moment of my life.  I screamed myself horse and felt high for the rest of the day.  At the end of June I left for Chautauqua.  The night before I left my brother told me the meaning of life.  My bag was delayed but I made friends with a Southwest Airlines employee as a result.  I was greeted by warm air and juicy sub sandwiches in Buffalo, NY.  I stayed with a cousin and soaked up the greenery.  I felt like I really was in my hometown.  I spent seven weeks drawing, painting, eating, and sleeping.  I fell in love with a girl.  My grandfather passed away.  I took a trip to Niagara falls, I got caught in some summer storms, I studied with Stanley Lewis.  I was outdoors all day long and discovered the amazing cooling properties of the tank-top.  I made the biggest and best paintings I’ve ever made.  I made the type of sudden, deep connections one makes at camp.  I cried when it came time to say goodbye.

I travelled a bit before coming home.  I stayed with another cousin in D.C., and yet another in NYC.  I museumed like I’ve never museumed before, and enjoyed cities like a young person who’s lived in one for awhile.  I felt like a rockstar, except without the crazy fans.  I packed light and travelled on a whim, meeting old friends and family everywhere I went.  I weathered hurricane Irene on the third floor of an old house in Pennsylvania, with a mini-fridge full of hummus and veggies.  I cried again when it was time to say goodbye.

I got back to SF with a head full of ideas and a big, open heart.  I was incredibly emotional.  I went back to work but only lasted about a week.  I felt light-headed the first day back and it didn’t go away until 2 weeks after I quit.  My body couldn’t cope with an office.  I drove to Seattle with an old friend and slept for a week in a cabin on Orcas Island.  I came back to SF, left the office for the last time with a little box full of things and my plant, and slept some more.  I didn’t talk to anybody for awhile.  I tried to do nothing for as long as I could.  I couldn’t believe how I’d ever worked like I did.  I napped on the daily.  I discovered Alicia Sylverstone’s “Kind Diet” and started eating greens like you wouldn’t believe.  I stopped eating meat and didn’t drink for awhile.  The #Occupy movement swept the nation and I started keeping wall street occupied.  I questioned the story of 9/11 for the first time, I became more conscious of the systems that control us and their imminent demise.  I enjoyed San Francisco more than ever, and all thoughts of living elsewhere evaporated.  Life kept opening up, my ideas about what’s possible kept expanding, my excitement for the future and appreciation of the present grew.

I got an art studio in the Mission and made some new paintings.  I met a gallery owner in Sacramento and lined up my first solo show.  I started telling people “I’m an artist”.  I made my first podcast and learned some WordPress tricks.  The Bills beat the Patriots and started 5-2.  My sister moved out, my Mom moved in.  I reconnected with my dad.  The Bills lost seven straight games and fell out of the playoff picture.  I went on OK cupid for three days.  I went on some actual, legitimate, I-don’t-know-this-person-at-all dates.  I thought about moving out of the city and in the process discovered how badly I wanted to stay.

It was the best year of my life.  My experience was richer, fuller, and more diverse.  I enjoyed more love than ever before.  I let go of more of what I’m not, and let in more of who I am.  I got just a little bit bigger and stronger, and I can now touch my toes.  Heading into 2012, I feel like the luckiest guy on earth, and I’m ready for more: more love, more fun, more beauty, more coincidences, more truth, more fame, more magic, and more joy.

Thanks for being a part of this year, dear reader.  Wishing you a happy 2012!