twenty-something

This year was to be the first year I dressed as a full-on Superman since I was a wee one back in the 80s (as seen above). For about seven years straight, beginning in '94, I dressed as Clark Kent -- you know, the whole now-done-to-death "S Shield t-shirt under the suit" thing that was kinda sorta original over a decade ago.

But 2006? I was going to spring for one of the fancy-smancy official Superman Returns suits, complete with the updated color scheme and fake muscles, and I was going shave my scruffy face and color my hair black. I was going to go all out... but then I realized that it was this past Wednesday and my best laid plans had gone to shit.

Oh well. Bigger things to worry about than a Halloween costume.

Instead, I went with the next best thing. When I was a kid, all I wanted to be when I grew up was either Superman or a hockey player. So the runner up costume? Obviously, I was a Vermont hockey player. Throw on a jersey, fake a black eye, mess up your hair just enough... volia. Instant costume -- and, apparently, instant sex appeal. I guess the hockey jock look suits me... or so I'm told.

You know, even sans a Kal-El costume, and even without big festive plans, this Halloween weekend turned out to be the best in recent memory...

This is my 800th published post here at "Twenty-Something."

That's a whole lot of words.

217,657 recorded visitors have stopped by this blog since January of 2005. We've had 1,423 published comments. Though posts and comments and visits have slowed, 20sum is still here, and I can't imagine it going anywhere in the next four years before I'm a thirty-something. Maybe this isn't a milestone... but it's something.

I began blogging at the start of 2004. In the time since, there have been many words and many milestones. I had three birthdays. Owned five iPods. Lived in Vermont, Manhattan, and Boston. Ended a three-and-a-half year relationship. Became a Mac person. Wrote most of a memoir about growing up. Fallen apart and put myself together a few times, too. So much has happened and changed in the past three years and "Twenty-Something" has been one of the few constants.

The only way I can think to "celebrate" this 800th post is to go back and rerun my very first. I was three years younger, five months into my life in Burlington post-graduation. I still had a PC and I had my first iPod, pre-click wheel, back when I was the only person on campus with those now-infamous white earbuds. I had just brought Gavin DeGraw to UVM and I was riding high. And I was still with "Duncan." It was our first anniversary. It was before things got bad.

I was happy... back then, which seems a long time ago. I was unhappy for a long stretch. And now?

I'm still a twenty-something. I'm still figuring it out. But I may just be happy for the first time in a while. I think my twenty-three-year-old self said it best: "Someday, I'll have it all -- whatever that means. There's plenty of time for the future, for the plans and the conversations, for the now or nevers. But right here, right now..."

For the first time in many posts, I feel like I did back in January of 2004.

There is no other place I want to be.

Thank you for reading. For returning. For being here.

I never really understood how people can mourn the loss of someone they never knew, never got how a community could cry and carry on over the loss of a virtual stranger. That is, I never understood because I never really felt it myself -- not until University of Vermont student Michelle Gardner-Quinn went missing and was found, a week ago, murdered.

I didn't know Michelle and I can't and won't pretend I did; though I had spent over six years at UVM, Michelle had been there barely six weeks before she met her tragic fate. She was a young and new member of the UVM Community, a stranger to me and to many, but she was still a part of that community and, thus, like a member of my extended family. I am deeply saddened by her passing and, from afar, I grieve with the rest of my people. My heart goes out to her family and friends and, despite my best efforts, I've become one of those people that I've never understood -- a person who mourns for a stranger.

All I know is that my home -- Burlington, UVM -- is in pain. And I'm not there. They're hurting, much more than I am, and there's nothing I can do to help. The sensational news here in Boston is brutal in its reporting, with a volume of coverage I wouldn't have expected. I have seen many familiar sights and faces on television in the past weeks. And, for the first time since I left, I really, really miss my home there at the college on the hill. I wish I could be there to help my community heal.

I still don't understand why we mourn for people we don't know -- but, for once, I feel it.

Go to ask.com.

Ask "what is some freaky stuff that will make a man crazy or turn him out during sex"?

And you will be taken to this blog. In particular, to my story, MAKE THE MAN.

How sweet is that?

(People from Tennessee are scary.)