So. Here we are.
From day one, I’ve thought about what I would possibly write here. I’ve been wondering whether, after a whole year, I’d have something profound to say. Wondering if I’d have anything to say at all. Would I feel different, changed maybe, at the end of this project? But now I realize it was never about the end.
I could speak endlessly about the things I’ve learned from Project 365, both technically and personally, throughout the course of this year. But above all else, I’ve found this to be true. Documenting a year of your life sounds intimidating, but it has also prodded me to be more, to live more, so that I would have something to show for each day. And this year, I lived a whole lot. I went streaking in a rainstorm. I sang in a professional opera. I ate too many fried things. I forgot to sleep for 72 hours. I fell out of love. I fell through a floor. I discovered the various culinary applications of marshmallow cream. I had brown hair. Red hair. Blonde hair. Blue hair, for a bit. I slept on couches. I talked to people I was scared shitless to approach. I danced - very badly I might add. I stole a three pound block of mozzarella from party and ran like hell. I saw the sun rise from just about every academic building on campus. I met a boy. I met a girl. I got a job. I scootered around unity house with a plate of green eggs in one hand, a 40 in the other, and a rat on my head. I cried until I couldn’t any more. I laughed until I peed. I was tweeted by an international superstar. I picnicked on a roof. I staged a fake wedding. I blacked out. I browned out. I mellowed out. I discovered the true purpose of the photo studio. I got 31 stitches. I somehow managed to successfully navigate the New York City subway system. I got a tattoo. I discovered the joys of porchsitting and the therapeutic powers of nail polish and Mickey eggs at the Deli. I loved my body. I hated my body. I bathed in a waterfall. I touched too many cats. I had a religious experience in a church that had absolutely nothing to do with god. I had a religious experience in a pinegrove that had absolutely everything to do with god. I drank a lot of Sunny D. I climbed a mountain.
Moral of this long-winded story, as eyeroll-inducing as it may be. Do something. Be something. Create something. Attempt something so ambitious that never in a million years would you think you could achieve it.
Because you just might. And it feels so bittersweet to be typing this last bit…