As I’ve said before, if you are hung over after a night out, you did it right. Well, judging by the way I felt yesterday, I had a very successful journey into 2012. Wow, 2012. Just writing it looks weird. I wonder how long it is going to take me to remember that 2011 is gone. Now that the hangover is gone, it’s time for a fresh start.

New Years’ Eve for me, didn’t start off that well. After dealing with my landlord and the boiler guy about the possibility of my walking back into my apartment in the new year with a potential flood, I left my place to catch a bus practically in tears. The only things that saved me were gchatting with my mother, txting with my aunt and bff John and, the fact that I already had my make-up on and really didn’t want to start over.

When I got into the subway, I took out my ipod and started blasting music, then when I got into the city, I went to DD and got an iced caramel latte. By the time I had walked down to Z’s block, my mood was lifting. We broke open a bottle of 2007 Chateauneuf du Pape that I brought over, which was so delicious, turned on a little satc, and set about to plan our night…which, was completely unplanned. Our nights are always like that. We later proved that, even on NYE, we didn’t need a plan…we’re just awesome like that.

After getting ready and grabbing a quick bite, we caught a cab right away and headed over to the Ace Hotel to meet up with some friends who were already standing on line there waiting for us. The Ace Hotel is really an awesome place. It feels like you’re stepping back in time to one of those old American mansions in Long Island; I love the feeling that they engulf you with. So, the Ace Hotel was the perfect place to celebrate the new year.

It was a very long night, with lots of drinking and lots of fun; the best new years’ I’ve had in a long time. I only vaguely remember getting back to Z’s place and crawling under the blankets at nearly six am…but I do remember the awfulness to which I woke up a few hours later. So happy that is over. The day after a hangover I always wake up in such a good mood because I feel infinitely better.

The real success of the evening though, is checking your phone the morning after to assess the damage that might have ensued…aka, drunk dialing/txting. Thankfully, mine only contained one. A txt sent at 523am, a picture of drinks. Innocent enough. The best part was the txt that I got in response to that the next day saying, “omg, were you still drinking at 523am??!!!” I think it is suffice to say that I was.

“It doesn’t have to be black and white.” These words were uttered to me the other day by a friend of mine, a phrase in which I’ve heard many times before. But what does it mean exactly? Immediately, Billy Joel’s “Shades of Grey” popped into my head and I searched my ipod, of which, I am embarrassed to say, was void of it. Having grown up on Long Island and therefore, an avid Billy Joel fan, I could not fathom this error on my part, so I set about to fix it. Needless to say that I have the song on cd, so I was saved. Some of the lyrics are as follows:

Shades of grey wherever I go
The more I find out the less that I know
Black and white is how it should be
But shades of grey are the colors I see

What does it mean exactly? Cynics would say that it means that there is no certainty to anything in life; optimists would say that there is always a possibility. I like to think of myself as a realist. I’m not sure if this phrase has been repeated to me because people feel that I only think in black and white, or because they want me to see things their way. Either way, whenever I hear this, it always makes me pause and think. The first thing that I do is reflect upon the reasons as to why it is being said. Modern technology today allows you to do that pretty freely; I’m still not sure if this is a good thing or not. There are definitely some things that I would like to forget without having to double-delete first. Alas, this is the way of the world now.

The more I find out the less that I know. As children and then young adults, we cannot wait to grow up; we strive for it. To us, growing up means that we gain an exuberant knowledge that allows us to be able to obtain thoughts on anything that we ever could want to know. Then, of course, as we get older, we realize that this isn’t true at all; that there is just so much knowledge in the world, it would be impossible to ever know everything.

In the first half of our lives, we are taught that things are either right or wrong and that there isn’t any in-between…in other words, everything is either black or white. Perhaps as adolescence, it is felt that we are unable to grasp things another way. Perhaps, having things concrete is the only way that anyone is ever able to learn or grow. But do we really need for things to be concrete in order to grow? If that were the case, why is it that everyone is so confused all of the time? Why doesn’t anyone know what they want?

“It doesn’t have to be black and white.” In the end, everything is either one thing or it’s another, nothing is half and half. Shades of grey exist because people don’t want to choose sides, because people don’t really want to think about what they want, to even know what they want…because people are afraid. People are afraid of what will happen if they give in to something, if they let all restraint go. I’m afraid of that too, but I’m also afraid of what happens if I don’t. What will I miss out on? What experiences could I have had if I just took that chance? The problem is, that unless you do, you’ll never know. Not everything may be worth it in the end, but the memories will be. Sometimes, the beauty is in the attempt.

As we get ready tonight to embark upon the arrival of the new year, many thoughts come to mind…and they aren’t just about what to wear, although for me, that is always one of the foremost. Hmmm what to wear…

Most of us treat the new year as a new beginning. It is a time to let go of the past and look towards the future. We shed all of the bad that came out of the latest year and focus on the positive…what did we gain, who did we meet, in what ways did our lives change for the better? If you have one answer for each of those questions, well then, that’s a good thing…not everyone does.

As I sit here, with a latte and newly polished nails, which, by the way, I have to thank Z for. I love the way my nails look after I have gone to the salon, but, I have one problem with it…the time. I feel like it is a waste of time. I mean, from the very second that you sit in the chair, you are there for at least an hour and you cannot even do anything because you can’t use your hands. Well, upon a recent trip to Philadelphia to celebrate an oh-so important birthday of our friend R, Z taught me the art of getting in and out in under thirty minutes. Just ask for a polish change. It is cheaper (which is good for those who go on a weekly or bi-weekly basis) and, more importantly for me, it saves sooo much time. Pair that with the fact that I discovered a salon within walking distance from my apartment (and near a café) it’s a dream come true. I will be frequenting there often.

Back to reflection. As I sit here, procrastinating on getting ready, although it is still very early (okay, maybe not very), I can’t help but think about where I was at this point last year. Last year, I was hauled up at the house in Huntington, nursing a broken heart and ignoring this day completely. We’ve all had one of those years, and last year was mine. I didn’t look out the picture windows of the sitting room and gaze at the bay; a favorite winter pastime because in the summer the view is blocked by leaves. I didn’t drink champagne or stay up until midnight. I didn’t even venture outside of my room and down the stairs to join the party that my brother was throwing. I watched a movie, drank tea, and went to bed early. It is definitely not the first New Years’ that I’ve stayed in, and I’m sure that it won’t be the last…but to start the new year with a broken heart isn’t exactly the best laid plans…although, I have to say, my year wasn’t all that bad. And, more importantly, I have no regrets (except for maybe that I have not purchased an end table yet…this must be rectified immediately).

Tonight, I am going out with Z, and we are going to celebrate being young and alive, and, friendship, because without friendship, the world can be a cruel, lonely place. I am lucky to have such great friends in my life. Friends that I can count on for anything, who always tell me the truth, even if I do not always want to hear it. Friends who never judge me or where I came from. Friends who accept my flaws and love me anyway. I would do anything for them.

As for what I am going to wear tonight? I think it is safe to say that I have figured it out, with the help of Z of course. There is no better way to figure out an outfit, then by talking it over with your girlfriends…yet another reason to love them. I have a black sequin dress that I bought over a year ago and have been dying to wear, but I am not going to wear that tonight. It will stay in my closet and keep all of my other dresses company, and you know that I have a lot!

The theme for tonight: classy, sophisticated and cool.

Up until last week, I had started getting back into my gym routine, which consists of gym-ing during lunch, four to five days a week. I had every intention of continuing this last week, however, it wasn’t meant to be. Due to the fire in my office building which knocked out power for forty-eight hours, my gym routine was cut. I know, I could have gone during those two days that I had off, but, to be honest, the reason that I go to the gym during lunch at work is because I just cannot bring myself to do it when I am home. I have bought different exercise equipments and DVDs, but I simply cannot do it. The moment I am home, my brain goes into a different kind of mode. The gym is not within walking distance (as it so conveniently is at work) so, that leaves that option out for me as well; I do not have a car and I refuse to take a bus to the gym when, when I am at work, I can simply walk there in under two minutes.

I awoke this morning with the mindset that I would be in fact gym-ing today, but as the time went slowly by, I discovered just how tired I really was (I think my body is still making up for the insomniac periods of the past week). I started getting my gym bag ready anyway, thinking that I would just power through it, but, as I was in the middle of doing so, I just couldn’t bring myself to complete the task; that, and the fact that my shoulder hurts from sleeping and my knee has been killing me. It also does not help that almost my entire office is out this week due to the holidays, and, it is eerily void of noise. I have to admit that, even though I could have taken these days off as well but didn’t, I am a teensy bit jealous of all these people who are relaxing in the comfort of their own homes…especially after the monsoons of my evening commute home last night. I really should not complain about that one though, because if it had been colder, it would have been a blizzard. I am not a fan of snow and that would have put me in an awful mood…okay, I am only a fan of snow if I can be huddled up somewhere without the obligation to travel into work; Manhattan is highly unpleasant after it has snowed.

How do I get out of these gym blues? Unfortunately, there is no “quick fix” for this one. The only way to get out of a slump (especially a gym one) is to force yourself to go, no matter how much you do not want to. I am a firm believer in pushing myself to workout but, sometimes I need an extra day. This, of course, means that tomorrow, there are no excuses.

Since Tuesday, I have not stepped foot in my office, due to an electrical fire Tuesday night, that completely wiped out the electrical panel that feeds power to our whole building. This, although irritating, has enabled me to get a few things done before the holiday weekend. One of which, was fight with Verizon for the past two days, because my cell phone battery wouldn’t charge and, they sent me the wrong item in the mail. This has thankfully been resolved with a ride to a Verizon store, lunch at Ben’s deli (mmmm pastrami) and a quick trip to Target…oh, and I have completed all errands and am packed (almost) for the weekend.

As for work, I still am unsure as to what is going on. Some power has finally been restored and I’ve heard that it’s open, however, I just spoke to my contact who said that I should wait until I hear from him and he will not know anything until tomorrow morning. It’s the last day of work before Christmas, I feel like they should just let us have this day and be done with it, then again, my office was open during the blizzard of this past winter…so who knows. I am hoping for one more day:).

As the coldest day yet of the season, I set about to try and stay warm…turns out that it was not as difficult as I thought. First, upon realizing that my apartment probably would fair better if I did not have a window open (not even the teensiest of cracks), I promptly shut it. Then, I set about to put on my usual weekend television programs…breakfast in bed on soap net. Yes, I’m one of those people. Sadly, it was not on this morning, like it was not on yesterday either. So, I channel flipped and found a Kate Hudson movie that I had never heard of, which was entertaining enough.

For a while now, I’ve been in the mood to bake cookies. I had had a recipe that a coworker had given me a few years back that was really good, but I wasn’t sure if I still had it. So, in the dark of my living room, after I had raided my “recipe drawer,” I sat on my floor in front of the television and went through the little recipes that I had, realizing that most of them, I had never actually tried. I found the coveted cookie recipe; thank goodness I actually have a habit of printing such things out, so I set it aside.

Last weekend, I had done a mass amount of food shopping, since I had possession of my father’s car, a lot of which are perishable. I had purchased the ingredients to make my famous split pea soup, so I decided to make my bed, get out of my pajamas, and get into the kitchen. While the film The Family Stone played quietly on my television, I set about chopping vegetables and throwing my soup together…also while chatting on the phone with Z, our usual weekend pastime regardless or not if we are hanging out.

After my soup was done, I picked up the cookie recipe again and studied it. Realizing that I only needed two ingredients and could easily walk to the store and purchase them, I threw on a sweater and vest, and headed out…oh and I put on my cute gloves. By the time I came back the only thing that was frozen were my hands.

I set the butter and cream cheese in a bowl to thaw and got the rest of my ingredients together, impatiently waiting. When it was finally soft enough, I preheated the oven, popped in my Christina Christmas cd and started mixing by hand…I am not one of those people who owns an electric mixer, although perhaps I should be. My second favorite thing about making cookies is eating the dough while waiting for them to bake…my first is the delicious fragrance that wafts into my apartment.

There’s nothing that puts me in the holiday mood more than singing along to Christmas music and making cookies, a tradition carried from childhood. I even managed to cook a little whole-wheat pasta for dinner while I was at it. Now, after all the dishes have been washed and the cookies put away, I am sitting on the couch contemplating what to actually do with all of them…surely I cannot eat them all :). Oh, and did I mention that I am pooped?

Words fascinate me. They’re the way we express ourselves, albeit not so well at times, but could you imagine life without them? Sometimes I joke and say that I didn’t major in English, I majored in words…because that is my true love, that is why I love literature so much, because I love words. Who else would ask for the “Historical Thesaurus of the Oxford English Dictionary” as a Hanukkah gift two years ago? And yes, I am serious. I am staring at it sitting on my shelf right now. It has literally every word in the English language since its birth, from the first recorded use to, sadly for some, the last. It is by far one of my most cherished possessions…yes, I did just say that about a thesaurus.

I am constantly in search of le mot juste (French for, the right word). Friends will attest to this…and so will my mother. Sometimes I feel like it takes me forever to write down one sentence because I get stuck on finding the perfect word for a thought that is circling in my head. It’s not that I can’t write, it’s simply that my brain sometimes cannot fathom using the “wrong” word, so if I’m at work I surf the online dictionaries and thesauruses, and if I’m at home I use the real ones until I find the word that I am looking for. Other times, simply making a cup of tea helps. The soothing aroma and warmth that it brings is sometimes enough. (And by the way, if anyone was wondering, my tea bag quote today says, “empty yourself and let the universe fill you,” interesting, right?)

I am not alone in this though. The author Gustave Flaubert spent his whole life in search of le mot juste as well. He constantly tormented his brain in search of the perfect word, rejecting clichés, as he believed that the essence of a great writer was his originality. Most, if not all of Flaubert’s published works took years for him to complete because of that and he was never completely satisfied by anything that he did. His novel Madame Bovary, for which I am currently awaiting its arrival, took him five years to complete.

So what is it all about? Why do writers like Flaubert and the likes (oh, and me) constantly search their brains, picking them apart for one teeny little word? Because finding the right word can be like finding the perfect pair of shoes or electronic gadget…or having sex; when you find the right word, that word that conveys perfectly what your mind is formulating, it’s euphoric.

I seem to be noticing a pattern of late…not everyone likes Billy Joel. I am astonished at this. Having grown up with his music and loving him, I thought that everyone else loved him too. I remember when he came out with his last album, River of Dreams. I remember my dad coming home and putting the title song on and replaying it over and over again until I could not get the lyrics or the music out of my head. It was 1993 and I would have been eight or nine at the time; there was definitely a lot that I did not understand then about Billy Joel’s lyrics, but I still loved him. Listening to his songs now as an adult, I can see more why the adults of my childhood loved him so; he wrote about his life and his feelings in ways that were entertaining and yet still made you feel (and reminisce about your own past).

For years I had been dying to see one of his concerts; I always said that the cost of a ticket wouldn’t matter…I would gladly fork over some serious money to see him live. Watching the Billy Joel/Elton John duet concerts from the company of my living room (the two grand pianos back to back) with my family just didn’t quite do it for me. Then, in early 2008, I learned that he was going to play the last concert at Shea Stadium. Seeing as how I live less than ten minutes away, I thought that it was fate. Sadly, within minutes of the tickets being released to purchase, they were sold out. When they added a second concert date I got my hopes up again only to still not be able to make a purchase. Then, a few months later, I went onto stubhub, and although I paid double the price for my seats, I had my tickets! I had always heard that when you see Billy Joel in concert it is either terrible (because he is drunk) or it is amazing, because, well, he is amazing. And it was ☺…amazing that is. The only other person I have any desire to see in concert is Christina, but that’s another story. 

I am starting to think that as much as I would love his music to be an epidemic, the fans that he is most beloved by reside in the quiet suburbs of New York, Long Island to be exact. I don’t know if it is because we feel he has roots with us, after all, he did grow up on Long Island and still resides there, or that we just understand him better because he is one of us, (and I am aware of my circumlocution, lol) and I know that us, Long Islanders are not his only fans, but it might be a good assumption to say that we make up a huge concentration.

Although, I do have many favorites, perhaps too many to count, “Scenes From an Italian Restaurant” is definitely one of the great ones. Actually I know there are too many good ones to count. I was recently in the car with my father and a friend texted me that question and we were both at a loss, though we did end up dueting to “The River of Dreams.” Singing along to Billy Joel in the car with my father is almost as much fun as when we rock out to Queen, particularly “Fat Bottomed Girls,” where my father pounds the steering wheel in rhythm to the music. When I was in high school, as we were being shuffled to and fro, cassette tapes of Billy Joel would be the only thing playing in the car. Years later, my mother told me that that was because it was the only music we could all agree on, but I always think fondly back to those car rides.

Singers may come and go, but this Long Island girl will always be in love with Billy Joel.