January 1, 2001

Tonight my fortune cookie fortune said "Everything is coming your way." And then the fireworks exploded across the sky, the Beatles blasted over the speakers to give a cheesy movie effect to the whole scene, and eventually the sounds of Sheryl Crow floated through the air and gave us a good excuse to sing loudly and move our hips ("All I wanna do is have some fun, I've got a feeling that I'm not the only one, oh...."). People were screaming and laughing, and the drunker ones were hugging everyone in sight. That was just fine with us after a while, especially since hot guys tend to be the stupid ones who get blasted at every celebration. After all, this was one of the few nights of the year where we were allowed to be giggling, naive, teenage girls. I think people's trust in the human race as a whole must come from New Year's Eve; it's one of the only nights I know when everyone just comes together for a good time and leaves all that other bullshit behind. It's exhilarating.

2000 left with a wimper, and good riddance, I say. 2001 is the year when I graduate, get my college acceptance letters, go off to college, see New York, turn 18 (which makes me eligible to star in porn flicks and vote- my two life goals), get my driver's license (definitely this year, since I chickened out for the past two).... and do 355 other things that I can't imagine tonight. And according to that fortune cookie (and we all know those things have the final authority on the world, don't we?), this year's going to be pretty great. My expectations are high.

To end this, because I do have a very recent entry before this, three quotes. Ghandi once said "We must be the change we wish to see in the world." Somebody once printed on a button, "You can't kill the spirit." Remember those this year, and whenever something you feel is especially hideous happens in your life, and carry on. Lastly, a Beatles song, because every good night- good anything, for that matter- should be topped off with some great music. And "Two of Us" is my favorite Beatles song. I might have quoted it before, but that doesn't really matter. Two of us riding nowhere, Spending someone’s hard earned pay, You and me Sunday driving, Not arriving on our way back home. We’re on our way home, We’re on our way home, We’re going home. You and I have memories, Longer than the road that stretches out ahead. Two of us wearing raincoats, Standing solo in the sun. You and me chasing paper, Getting nowhere on our way back home.