2013 in Retrospect

I’m a little late with this because we didn’t have our Wifi installed in the new apartment until yesterday evening.  Now, tentatively settled in with a bed, a table for a desk, and two suitcases for a dresser, I’m ready to officially let go of 2013:

January: A freak broomball accident leaves me with an [undiagnosed] concussion.  Hypochondria quickly kicks in and even now, has not entirely gone away.  Also, it is cold in Minnesota.

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February: I proclaim my love for a certain Shakespeare play, and am cast out by English majors everywhere.

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March: I witness a first snow, and pompously compare myself to Neil Armstrong.

April: My alma mater does me a few solids.  I also spend my days and nights alternating between feelings of despair and triumph while writing my Honors capstone project paper, entitled “Reading Mrs. Ramsay: The Nature of Victorian Domestic Authority in To the Lighthouse.

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May: I graduate from the University of Minnesota, Morris.  I begin to tell the long story of graduating with a piece of glass (from a light fixture I broke a month earlier) in my foot, giving the commencement speech with Al Franken, awkwardly introducing my parents to my favorite professors, and ending the night in the ER.  I never finish the story, but that’s the gist of it.

June: I begin a summer of job hunting and Dawson’s Creek binge-watching.  I also rant the rant that eventually provides the conception for a new blog.

July: I see the play Pride and Prejudice at Minneapolis’ Guthrie Theater.  Vincent Kartheiser (of Mad Men fame) plays Mr. Darcy.  I write a review peppered with paparazzi-esque admissions.  Shockingly, the Star Tribune refuses to print it.

August: Mom and I embark on a road trip that takes us from Minnesota to Dayton, Ohio, Charlottesville, VA, Monticello, Mt. Vernon, Gettysburg, Washington D.C., New Jersey (to see family), Niagara Falls (to see family), Michigan (to see friends), and Wisconsin (to see family).

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September: I turn twenty-three.  I write my “Writing ‘Rules.'”  I shout loudly about the wonders of history, and how [horrendous, yet] amazing it is that America’s favorite wholesome pioneer family once crossed paths with a family of serial killers.

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October: I meet Garrison Keillor at his poetry reading.  He tells me to send him my resume, but someone else beats me out for the position at A Prairie Home Companion.  I wallow in undocumented grief for a few days.  I begin a new blog, and give it a strange title just to force people’s attention.  Ain’t too proud to beg.

November: I join BlogHer’s NaBloPoMo and spend a month writing sweet nothings to you on a daily basis.  I decide I will never participate in NaBloPoMo again without just compensation.  I choose my burial site.  I celebrate Thanksgiving with pockets full of pilfered rolls and a nostalgic post about Thanksgivings past.

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December: I am offered a job in Washington, D.C., and given three days in which to plan, pack, and move.  I accomplish this, and celebrate a quiet Christmas just outside of the metro area.  Obviously, I write a terrible poem to commemorate the day.

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