A Letter to 2017

I grew up with a mother that loved to sing everything so every time we said anything that has ever been in a song, my mom would start. I think she was a song writer in her past life. Not a singer, a writer. I love her, but she doesn’t have the voice to make it before auto tuning. Eventually I became this way too, I wish I didn’t, but we always become our parents in a way. That’s why when I’m in pain, I shout under my breath like my dad. So now my life is a musical in my head. 

Usually it’s a nice musical, like Phoebe in the last Friend‘s episode. Or just a string of awkward phrases like [in a singing voice] “The kids are going to do drugs / And I don’t know what to do with my hands / Yeah, I don’t know what to do with my haaaaaAAnnndsssa!”  

2017 was like a jazz musical, everyone doing their own thing, and it’s just a mess. Like La La Land but instead of a hot guy it’s a bag of garbage and instead of Emma Stone it’s a bottle of kerosene. So just a pile of garbage on fire. The garbage is Twitter and the fire, well everyone knows who the fire is. Someone should make a montage with images of garbage on fire set to Jimmy Fallon’s Do Not Play List to show the passage of 2017.  

But 2017 was great for me. I got to live in South Korea. Finally got to go to India. And I’m not living at home anymore. Sorry Mom. My new place is amazing except for the fact that when I shower it sounds like someone is breaking in so I have to run out of my bathroom with the plunger, ready to attack. It’s a small downside. So, without further reading of boring stuff, here is my letter to 2017. 

 

Dear 2017, 

We hated you. It started early. Basically 20 days in. That day will go down in history as the prequel of 1984 by George Orwell. It will be renamed 2084.   

And by February, we had already given up on making it better. But at least it was a short month and before we knew it, Beauty and the Beast was here. What a magical time that was. We could escape the world to 18th century France. Everyone knows the story. A strong individual overcomes repression and abuse to ultimately find the love of his life in the arms of another man. LeFou truly is an inspiration to us all.  

The rest of the year was lost. Literally, I don’t remember it. I think living in Daefrica in the summer caused me to sweat out my memories. All I remember is climbing the steepest concrete hill on Earth and a giant octopus attacking me. But that might have been my trip to the Great Wall and Shangai Disneyland or just a dream. I can’t be sure. My first memory after May was my flight to India. And before I knew it the year was up, I had moved for the second time in 2017, across the world then across the U.S.  

And when I finally stopped moving, I had one day left of 2017. I spent this day eating sushi, talking with a small child and an elderly woman, and finally watching BTS videos until I cried myself to sleep at 12am. Seriously, if you still haven’t heard BTS yet, you are missing out on a very unhealthy obsession over men that don’t speak English. What more do you need for 2018. 

2017, you will not be missed. Mostly because now we only have at most three years left in Trump’s America. With that I say farewell. 

 

Sincerely, 

 

 

Grandmaw Ames 

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