Resolutely irresolute on New Year’s Day. You?

I know less than I thought I knew (or thought I would know) by today, January 1, 2007.

I am not going to wish you a Happy 2007, because you’ve already seen that sentiment written in glitter and sequins and fireworks this season, and I’d rather give you something else as a token of affection. You come here and you read what I write, and I marvel at that. Daily. You give up time to decipher what’s going on here in a house—and a head—you might never get to see up close. You take the time to read between the lines, to wonder about the life of someone you haven’t met (many of you) or to find out more about your friend who suffers strange intermittent phone phobia (many of you). Thank you. I value you so much and yet I don’t even know what your coffee mugs look like (many of you) or what you’re thinking (most of you) on this first day of the New Year.

I’m not going to wish you a Hopeful 2007, either. A wise friend said to me this past year, “I don’t like the word hope. I think it’s one of those words that keeps you from being exactly where you are.”

At first I thought that was a pretty crummy, pretty pessimistic way of thinking. I’ve since changed my mind. I won’t go so far as to say that hope is an ugly word—it could never be that, no more than love or baby or butterfly or scalp massage ever could— but it does make living in the here-and-now more difficult than I want it to be, or can afford it to be anymore.

2007: Goals unachieved, dreams unfulfilled, life audaciously imperfect. I’m tired. True, I perk up when I am surrounded with wonderful people (which is often), but the truth is, I’m weary of wanting (different circumstances) and waiting (for things I can’t change to change) and wondering. You?

This is what I’m wondering today: What happens if I open the back door and let Wanting go? For good? Just let it wander out into the neighborhood, wish it godspeed, let the beast find itself a new home? A better home with better owners who can afford to feed it better?

I’m tired of the timeline that I told myself I did not have, the one that keeps slithering out from under the bed and coiling around my esophagus when I’m trying to sleep. My stamina for 3am-timeline-wrestling is waning.

I was helping my mom unpack some remaining boxes of papers at her apartment a few days ago, when I came across a note from my late Great-aunt Gert. She’d written it to my mom in the early 1980s. Along with the usual family news, my great-aunt had added, “Loved seeing you all again, especially Jenn. I’d bet anything she’s going to be a famous actress someday! She’s got the face and the personality for it!”

My sweet mother, God love her, had taken a yellow highlighter to the compliment, obviously thrilled that my great-aunt saw what she saw (and hoped) for me: a Happy Big Future, with lots of glitter and sequins and fireworks and red carpet treatment.

I started to cry again.

I pretty much ruled out fame for myself when I stopped wearing my retainer. Crooked bottom teeth do not a Hollywood career make.

I don’t know what makes a Hollywood career, really. I think living in Hollywood would be a good start, but I don’t want to live in Hollywood. I wouldn’t mind having my teeth fixed, but I don’t want to be anywhere but where we are. Location-wise.

I am working on feeling the same way, non-location-wise. That part has always been harder. I have always known, location-wise, when I am in the right place and when I am in the wrong place. This is definitely the right place to live.

But as for wanting to be right here, that more elusive here…that’s more slippery.

You?

I know I get more comments when I go blonde and shake my booty, so please pretend I’m shaking my booty and my blonde chopped bob as I write this to you. And write back. Let me know what you are no longer wishing for, what you’ve let go of, what you’ve bid farewell to. Ignore all of those prepositions at the end of those clauses. Are you here, or more there?

I’ll toast you this way: Here’s to a Here-We-Are 2007.

My only resolution? I plan to do less trail-blazing, and more shut-up-and-follow-ing.

I found a couple of guides I’m crazy about, too. And they seem to know the way better than I do. Funny, that.