in 2002, i settled and stayed in the same apartment. i went to london, new york city and vegas. i won the jackpot. i gave my heart away and got it back, slightly scratched and bruised. i picked up a guitar for the first time and learned how to play love me tender. i sat at the piano, after months of shying away, and fell back in love with the way my fingers feel on the keys and the way the sound fills the walls. i lost my tolerance for alcohol and strengthened my addiction for caffeine. i took more risks. i signed up for a gym. i lost weight and gained it back and lost it again. i let my hair grow out. i put my 1987 acura to rest and bought a 2003 golf. i asked for help. i made necklaces, magnets, pictures, mixed CDs, sequin-and-bead-covered balls and friends. i discovered i don’t hate indian food. i forgave. i forgot. i remembered. i reminded. i tried to see the good in everything, every day, and i shared it with whomever wanted it. i took care of my dad. i laughed with my mom. i went on so many dates i can’t even remember the names of all the boys i dated. i became best friends with a 15-turned-16-year-old girl. i learned a lot from her. (i’m still learning.) i gave my time away. i lost track of time. i saw a lot of live music, not as many movies and not nearly enough art. i saw a shooting star. i made a lot of mistakes, but i think, i hope, i learned from them.