It finally ended.

Granted, it ended with a wasted two-week time span in which I achieved less than nothing, creatively speaking, anyway, and drove myself to the brink of insanity, only to pull back at the last minute, having forgotten my chapstick.

But alas, the crappy year which was 2009 has drawn to a conclusion, and I’ve been in the sort of mindset that I can only liken to surviving a crazed gunman’s rampage – caught up in that after-time in which you slowly confirm that you did, in fact, escape from the drama uninjured and alive. You don’t yet care what comes next, you’re just lucky to have made it out in one piece.

2009 was, more so than anything, a year of investigation and identification.  Having spent the better part of my 31 years knowing that there were some underlying psychological imprints made by the mother-ship, this was the year in which they were truly examined, poked, prodded, and – more importantly – dealt with.

I’ve learned that I’m conditioned to expect far less than what others are entitled to. Humble, maybe. Easily made into a doormat, definitely.  Who’d have thought that what is good for the goose is, in fact, good for the gander? Certainly not me, the self-professed “invisible woman”.  While I’m grateful for the natural ability to suck it up, it’s time to start knowing that I do, in fact, deserve more than I’m willing to settle for.

Comics Against Cancer was a definite highlight of the year.  The fact that two outrageous flirts could meet via Facebook, with an entire country separating them geographically, and manage to pull off an eight-comic lineup at the Somerville Theater is more than a feat.  The fact that these eight boys and girls came out to Beantown pro-bono and also prepared and served an Italian dinner for cancer patients, in addition to performing for free, is just astounding.  I am certainly looking to 2010 with last year’s CAC energy in tow as I gear up for the Greater Boston Comedy Relay.

Mr. Good.  What can I say that hasn’t already been uttered, moaned, yelled, screamed, or shouted?  Anyone who knew me during that time in my life knows the overload of irony in such a moniker.  While painful, it was certainly good to find out that, despite what he’d like me to believe, I was not crazy during that two years of my life.  There was something quite sketchy about him – something that could not simply be chalked up to his sheer stupidity.  But did I ever expect the man(child) whose mantra was, “I just don’t think I can love anyone,” would drop the girlfriend-of-three-years bomb on me? Not so much.  There is now, though, a nice and clear-cut reason to despise him, rather than simply the desire to. And nothing says move on like despising someone, right?

So, with that chunk of negative energy, I welcome you, 2010.  Have a seat, put your feet up, and get settled. For in the words of JFK, “Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past are certain to miss the future.”

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