In January, I cried because I made my mother cry. I was in Portland in to see Mike Birbiglia, my favorite comedian, preform. I promised I'd call her when we got back to the hotel, but I didn't. I went to bed and awoke to the maid, who had been called my panicked parent, knocking on the door saying there was a call for me at the front desk. When I got ahold of her, I could hear the panic in her voice, and though it didn't diminish the excitement of the weekend, the memory of Mike retweeting me will always be intertwined with my small failure as a daughter.
My whole year was like this: Wonderful experiences, moments of pure joy, tempered by growing pains and true sadness.
I have been fortunate enough to sit back and reflect at the end of each year of my life thus far and say, with conviction and contentment, that it was better than the last. This year was no different. I may have cried more in 2014 than any other, but I also laughed more and worked harder than ever before.Read More