I had a good feeling about 2014. I got all wrapped up in the newness of it and let myself get carried away. I felt hopeful. I felt enthusiasm. Dare I say, of the unbridled variety…? And now, barely a month in, and it’s starting to feel like the same-old, broken-in year that every one of them finds a way to turn into. Maybe it’s just this weather. The staleness of another winter. This snow has been hanging out for weeks now, it’s the color of cobwebs. My car is crusted with a thick lace of salt and road grime. I know this is bad for the paint, or the body, or something. I’m sure someone’s told me this. (Car sits, unwashed.) I don’t even have to wash it myself. By “wash the car,” I mean get in the car, drive it to the car wash and pay someone to wash it while I stand around and shoe-gaze. And yet such a thing seems large, insurmountable. I need something. I need a transformative experience. And yet, I also know that I can’t simply expect such things to happen TO me.