Happy New Year!

New York has been the hardest and the best thing I've ever done. Everything is an extreme. It's amazing, or it's worse than your definition of the word "worse." The streets are gorgeous and glistening with the glitter of lights left on at night in tall buildings, or there is puke on the sidewalk. The people are kind, friendly, warm and instant friends. Or, they are bastards trying to rip you off.

The sidewalks are full of endless potential -- and at other times, they are full of trash, rubber gloves, dog crap, urine and condoms. But you don't see those things often. And the potential always stays glowing off of the sidewalk, even at night. Around every block, the entire scene changes, and the place you were is gone. And the place up ahead remains to be seen. Walking gives you time to take it all in. All of those things that fly by in a blur when you drive.

It was really strange to watch the ball drop on TV and know it was only several subway stops away, instead of across the country.

New Year's Eve was awesome. Forty-five minutes before the ball dropped, we found an Irish bar that was packed and fun. Everyone in the bar said it was one of the best places and they were impressed we'd found it. Good intuition Nina! We wore pretty dresses. We met nice people. We got grilled cheese sandwiches.

"Well why don't you go and fuck all your other co-workers then?"

The girl outside just repeated that about ten times, as she sat on the stairs that are inches from my window. I don't know what this girl's problem is, but she needs to fix it -- quickly -- as I have heard far too much of her relationship drama. She certainly gets around. And then the guys show up and everyone yells at everyone. Seriously. I want to tell her, for my sake, and for the sake of me getting enough sleep -- please just stop dating.

I haven't slept well in so long, that I think I have forgotten what it's like.