After midnight on New Years Eve, just as I was done kissing Brooke (score), a series of loud bangs echoed from somewhere outside. Brooke and I and the friends we were with went into the backyard and couldn’t see any fireworks, which led me to believe that it had to be gunshots. Which is cool, I thought, because even the gang bangers are excited for ’08. Then I thought, Maybe it’s some form of resolution. Maybe they are using up all their bullets in a concerted effort to stop killing so many people in the upcoming year. And my heart went kind of melty like it does whenever I watch Dangerous Minds.
We all went back inside and people started talking about their New Year’s resolution. Personally, I think resolutions are pointless. First of all, why just on New Years? If the poster of Jesus that hung in my sixth grade classroom is right, then ever day is an opportunity to be a better person. So that means I’ve wasted somewhere north of 6,935 opportunities so far. (It was all down hill after I purposely threw the softball at Jason Rosado’s head in my fifth grade gym class because he got to play shortstop instead of me.) I’m not saying that the new year doesn’t present itself as a metaphysical “clean slate.” I think it does. I just don’t think we should go fucking up that clean slate so quickly. Why not give it a few months where you can enjoy being only nominally better than you were last year before setting ridiculously high standards like, “I’ll refrain from kicking kids who aren’t looking where they’re going on busy sidewalks”?
But then, while I was sitting at my desk today updating my “how we met” statuses on Facebook, it hit me. I know how I can make a positive difference in the world without over-exerting myself. I’ve decided on my New Years resolution: Once a week, I will answer a “Missed Connection” add on Craigslist. What I’ll do is, I’ll pretend to be the person they are looking for, e.g. “the girl in the green jacket on the L train with the nice eyes and auburn hair I wanted to run my toes through all night long.” Then I will respond to the post and let them down gently. Something like, “I have been searching for you too! Unfortunately, I am leaving tonight for upstate
Here is why it’s nice – because the chance that this person will find the ACTUAL person they are looking for is so miniscule that there’s no harm in stepping in. Plus, the chance that that actual person isn’t TOTALLY FUCKING INSANE is slim as well. The bottom line is, if it were me I would rather erroneously think that the person I am searching for is prevented from being with me by the dint of some misfortunate cosmic circumstance than to think that they aren’t with me because they don’t meet guys through online message boards.
Below is the post from first person I have decided to help and my response. I feel better about myself already.
Dear Webster Hall chick,
Holy shit, yo, I can’t believe you remember me! That night was ill crazy. You were all up in my business and I was like, “Yo, this girl is tight!”
I’m sorry I didn’t get your digits or I would be calling you now, but I guess this will have to do. So check it, you remember my lazy eye? Yeah, that shit’s been droopin from day one. Can’t even see out that thing. (I wasn’t ignoring you when you were dancing to the left of me – I just didn’t see you!) Tomorrow, I’m heading over to the West coast where they got some new kinda treatment where they can fix me up all dope, you know? It’s my dream to be a fighter pilot, and unless this treatment works I’ll never make it! Life’s like a dog fight, yo, and I gotta be scratching and clawing if I don’t want to lose.
Maybe if I wasn’t gettin this surgery, we would be like soulm8’s 4eva or something. But you know, I gotta do what I gotta do. I can’t be chillin wit 1 eye for my whole life. I gotta see what life’s throwing at me, and not just from the right side. I hope you understand. You sure are one fly girl. Maybe I’ll run into you at Webster Hall.