For someone as self-involved and self-obsessed as I tend to be, I am strangely and completely lacking in self-awareness.  This, by the way, is not one of my most charming attributes.  It’s frustrating to me and unfairly taxing on my ceaselessly wonderful, endlessly patient girlfriend.  I am not one for New Year’s Resolutions, but in 2011 I am going to work harder at ensuring that my habit of frequently taking inward trips of quiet thought become fruitful voyages of understanding and discovery.  In less flowery terms, I’m aiming to calm the traffic of my mind that often confounds me.

In order to move forward, I begin by taking a moment to recognize an end.  It is the final day of 2010 and many of us are looking back at the year that was.  When I was younger, I used to set aside some time at the beginning of the new year in order to examine the year that had passed in a retrospective look at what I did, what I learned, and what the future might hold in store for me.  In my early-20’s, I would hop in my car with my laptop and drive to Jenkinson Lake — a small, quiet reservoir in the Foothills of the Sierra, about 65 miles away from Sacramento.  At the lake, I would put down my thoughts about the year that had concluded, think about what I wrote, take a short hike near the lake, and then feel ready to progress into the new year.  It felt like a symbolic ritual, as if I had performed some sort of cleansing — giving me a feeling as if I had literally tossed out the old year to make room for the new one.

As the calendar prepares to move forward to 2011, I am a long way away from Jenkinson Lake, California and quite some distance from my early-20’s, as well.  What I have, though, is a life as new as the year that will soon be upon us.  In 2010, my relationship with Erica — the most important person to ever enter my world — has matured and grown into a partnership that isn’t merely something I happen to be a part of.  Instead, it is a part of me — just as relevant and necessary and vital as the brain that thinks these thoughts, the heart that pumps my blood, and the lungs that breathe air into my life.  There are never enough opportunities to give my appreciation to her publicly or privately, so I take this chance to declare to Erica and to all of you that I am an extraordinarily lucky man because I have her in my life to give it added purpose, passion, and pleasure.

I have come a long way — literally and figuratively — in so many different areas of my life since Erica and I celebrated the beginning of 2010 by drinking pink champagne while watching the ball drop on TV in San Francisco a year ago.  In July, I moved to Austin, Texas with Erica, after spending all 30 years of my life in Sacramento and it has completely transformed my life.  There are so many positives in my life right now due to making that move that I am perplexed it took me so long to leave California and almost feel bad gushing about the changes because I know there are so many people still trapped back home.

The truth is impossible to ignore, however.  A year ago, California’s economy had completely beaten me down.  I had worked consistently since I was 15 years old, but budget problems led to layoffs and despite constant, daily job-searching, I had been out of work for nearly a year by the time I moved to Austin in July.  Two weeks after moving to Texas, I had a job.  A month later, I had a second job.  In less than six months, I’ve received promotions in both of the jobs I am working (both of which I enjoy) and feel needed.  Unemployment is terrible in many ways and we know how tough it is financially, but I think we downplay the damaging impact that unemployment has on people’s pride and self-respect.  In 2010, I was given value once again.

Somewhere along the way over the past five years, I had lost my sense of purpose and I couldn’t quite strike the right chord necessary to find my passion in writing.  To me, writing is immensely important — a hobby, an obsession, and the dream that I have always wanted to pursue.  My interest in writing has always focused on a specific subject, however.  I never wrote fiction and I couldn’t write about myself.  Since my childhood, though, I’ve had a deep interest in Presidential History and always wanted to do something to encourage this fascination.  Unfortunately, my overall lack of confidence in my writing and my ability had stifled my creativity and impeded any progress over the past few years.  Instead of writing about the Presidents, I spent hours writing offensive jokes on Tumblr — something that was fun, but not meaningful or rewarding.  It’s always great to make people laugh, but I’ve always wanted to make people think.

In 2010, I was able to do that and, like the other transformative changes of the past year, I credit Erica with bringing the best out of me.  I never doubted that I had the knowledge to become a Presidential historian, but I lacked confidence in my ability to translate that knowledge into something informative, entertaining, and interesting to people other than myself.  It was Erica who made me believe that not only could I share stories and history about the Presidency with others, but that I should do it. 

While I started Dead Presidents a couple of years ago, I never consistently updated it or added content to it until 2010 when I regained some confidence in my writing ability.  When I added content to the site and started answering questions on Dead Presidents, I was shocked by the response.  Not only were people reading what I was writing, but they were actually digging it!  It was another example of something that I have a passion for also giving me a renewed purpose.  I am immensely proud of Dead Presidents, I love doing it, and it opens up opportunities I’ve always dreamed of with my writing.

And, really, what everything comes back to — the move to Texas, the changes, the renewed confidence in my writing ability, the urge to be a better person, the goal of continuing to grow, the fact that I eat spinach salad — is my tiny little Asian from Round Rock who is beautiful, curious, energetic, ambitious, and creative; is stronger than I’ll ever be; is frustratingly smarter than I am; is right about things more often than I can admit; is inexplicably capable of eating Hot Puffcorn and cotton candy and five other equally strange things at one time; is somehow able to watch movies over-and-over again without going crazy or knowing every single line; who constantly forgives me despite the fact that our first date was an MC Hammer concert; and, most importantly, is the most patient, inspiring, and motivating source of passion and purpose that I will ever know. 

2010 brought me closer to her, which makes the year the luckiest and happiest and most important of my life.  2011 can only be better, which means this life keeps growing and this smile will stay securely where it is.  I am grateful for the year that I just experienced, thankful for the person I shared it with, and hopeful for a life full of equally happy tomorrows.