the good-luck symbol for 2003: a chicken wearing a turban holding a fish in its mouth

The corner of Second Avenue and First Street found me last night on a barstool which is beginning to carry the imprint of my ass because Patio is the bar where I have become a reputed regular. Forty dollars for all I could drink so I passed roughly nine margaritas past my lips, and one beer, in six hours time. I didn't really feel drunk because of the endless stream of buzz-killas that were hitting on me.

Three men told me they're shy and don't generally talk to girls.

Two people asked me if I was straight or not.

The champagne tasted like ass.

Michael kissed me and only very nearly missed my mouth but fortunately the alcohol repressed me from shuddering in ecstasy. He's just the bartender.

For lunch today I met up with a guy I haven't seen in ten years. Jeremiah. Our mom's are old friends. He hasn't changed a bit, and despite him calling me "Michaela" on the phone, and in introductions to his friends, when he spotted me he called me "Katie" like my family does. We had lunch at an Indian restaurant. Not what I generally eat on New Year's, but mama said it's probably good luck somewhere to eat curry. Jeremiah lives in Portland, and the upstart of all this is that now we will likely email more frequently.

I took a late train back home tonight, and sitting facing me was a young man with a guitar and a beret. I felt him looking at me the whole time. Not unattractive he, but I wanted to sit and feel hungover and sorry for myself, and not be watched. He got off at my stop, which no one ever does, and followed me to the lone cab I entered, for here it is common to share local cabs. I closed the door and looked at him through the rain-streaked glass willing him to stay standing on the curb. He asked the driver for a ride, and I noticed he had a wedding band, so I looked at him again; "stay out of my cab" my look said, and he stepped back out of rain and stated his decision to call another driver. I'm afraid of men, because I'm too nice to them, and I wish they could all be turned away with a look.

Here they are, and though I am perhaps none too resolute, these are the propositions I put forth for the New Year.

#1: stop giving my phone number out to guys I meet in bars; this is no way to find kindreds

#2: start going to one show, or play, or museum, or shopping district a week; I must see more of New York than the bar whereat I'm a regular, and this may lead me to possible kindreds

#3: read all the text books I have purchased for my anticipated field of graduate study in preparation for school beginning next fall

#4: be more nurturing to these children I take care of

#5: to pray for others more

I usually only have five of these, but this year I'm throwing in a new one, and it's only because it's a practical decision that happens to coincide with January occurring: I am going to not contact my Tylere again until I hear from him first. I'll send him not his Christmas gift, but render it to him if I ever see him again. The realization is that he is a wonderful friend, in deed, but that he has invested less in the maintenance of our friendship than I have, and I am denying myself the urge to continue squandering my priceless affection on someone who feels no pang of loss at me being a thousand miles away. Proximity appears to have been the only substance of our friendship, for without it the thing has begun dying.

According to this quiz, though, my "resolution" should be this:

Take the What Should Your New Year's Resolution Be? Quiz

I'm no real fan of the idea of giving up a bunch of habits every January. My personality is an ongoing project which changes and grows and stagnates and recesses and develops on and on with or without cold-turkeys. I'm not going to stop smoking, for instance. My "propositions" are things I have not done that I would like to begin doing.

2002 was the year of the horse -- my year -- and blessed it was among years. Perhaps all the good it brought me has established some foundation for progress in 2003.

In addition, the only other Mikaela I know (who spells it with a "k") made a quiz called "who the hell are you" and here is what my result is:

You are just like me, the creator of this quiz. We should be friends. You have an independent spirit. You enjoy profanity and getting the wrong kind of attention from the opposite sex. You were raised in a religious family and now you're anti-allthatbullshit. What else? As a child, you were a tomboy. And now as a young adult, you're the most feminine you've ever been. You even wear lipstick sometimes. Most importantly, you are blindingly beautiful.

I think that it's funny that I'm exactly like the only other Mich/kaela I've ever known. It's fitting in so many ways.