Scarface

Happy new year's from me! I just thought I'd take a quick picture of myself while waiting for the car to warm up. It looks like I have a cold sore on my lip, but it's just a reflection of something in the mirror or the window.

Two thousand and eight. Midnight.

Nate and I were at a rave in the south side of Chicago. As soon as the clock struck 12:01, compelling the the cheering to subside, Nate dragged me through the sea of neon lights, booze in plastic cups, high 18-year-olds, and junkies to his car. It was snowing pretty bad outside, and since all the snow plowers seemed to be too busy celebrating the new year, the roads were unplowed. When we finally made it home, we watched an episode of Six Feet Under while eating pizza.

A few weeks later, I started my senior year at Columbia. It was a tough, tough semester. I spent many sleepless nights working on feature scripts, 5-minute films, practicum films, and papers. By the time the semester ended, I was exhausted and practically friend-less. I was too busy to hang out with anyone, and my friends, especially Jake and Jason, had drifted away. I was sad to see my friendship with them dissipate to the point where we were nothing but acquaintances.

Nate and I found our relationship to be too turbulent, so we decided to end it. I moved out of our apartment and into my dad's house. It took some time getting used to seeing my dad and brother practically every day, because during the previous four years, I just saw my family members about once every two months. I stayed with my dad the whole summer and got to see how he lived. By September, I came to the conclusion that he liked to: party every weekend, ride his motorcycle all over America, and have his biker friends over for dinner a few times a week. I also found that my brother did all the grocery shopping and was intensely obsessed with his girlfriend.

My summer consisted of: vacations, looking for an apartment with Laura, going out with friends, dating a sound designer, looking for a job and an internship, and struggling with Columbia's incompetent financial aid department to fix the mistakes they had made.

In the end of August, just a week before the first day of school, I met with the head of the financial aid department and resolved all the issues with my loans, grants, and tuition balance. I was immensely relieved and overcome with joy because I was finally able to register for my very last semester ever. That night, Nate asked me if I could help him at the warehouse to prepare for the company's trip to Vegas the following morning. I agreed, and just after he picked me up at the Sheridan station in Uptown, he brought me to Jewel and told me to get a cake so we could celebrate my victory over the evil FAFSA and financial aid department. It took me a half-hour to pick one out, and I finally settled on a carrot cake. I had never enjoyed a cake as much as I did this one. It was a truly bittersweet moment.

I started my first day of school with a huge smile on my face. By the end of my first week, I realized the impossible: this semester would be harder than the last.

In the middle of September, my grueling apartment search with Laura came to an end once we signed a lease. We had found a huge, gorgeous apartment with a great view of the Chicago skyline in West Town.

Once October 1st rolled around, Laura and I had settled in our new place. We couldn't be happier -- the place was perfect, the location was perfect, and practically everything was perfect. We decorated the place, Kyle did some handyman work, and we made ourselves right at home.

During the weekend of October 10th, Laura stayed at Kyle's place in the suburbs, and I ventured over to my mom's house to work on my documentary on an artist named Skoff. Little beknownst to us, early in the morning on October 12th, our apartment building went up in blazes. The entire neighborhood gathered around the building and took pictures and by dawn, reports were made all over the internet. By late morning, everyone in the city was buzzing about it. By noon, I pulled up in front of the building and noticed all the boarded up windows and the charred doors. A neighbor told me what happened, and I panicked. My cats were still inside. Someone summoned the firemen, and they went inside and rescued Kikeli. Later, Skoff (who I spent the day with) and I went inside the building and rescued Einstein. Both cats made the news.

Laura and I were now homeless. Her grandmother passed away and left the house to her family, so Laura moved there. As for me, it was difficult to find someone who would take in two cats, so I went to the person I could always count on -- Nate. Without batting an eye, he said I could live with him until I found another place.

So I was back at the place I called home until last May. Funny how life works.

On November 4th, I was part of history. I, along with Laura, Melissa, and a million other people, ventured over to Grant Park and watched Obama get elected. In the park next to ours, none other but Barack Hussein Obama gave his historical acceptance speech.

I eventually found a new home -- Skoff's house in the suburbs. Two weeks after the cats and I moved in with him, my very, very, very last class ever -- Authorship in Cinema: Spike Lee -- ended on December 11th. So that was it. I was officially done with school. I am now a college graduate.

2008 was a rough year for almost everyone, and 2009 shall be better. Tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, I will be bartending at Matt Curtin's party, complete with a DJ and a full bar. I'll be behind the counter, starting off the new year that will be summed up in a post exactly one year from now that will begin with...

Two thousand and nine. Midnight.