There are many Americans, but this one is mine.

I am writing these words while sitting on a couch in Virginia, surrounded by some of my dearest friends. When I think where I was this time last year—this has been a long journey, of which 2015 was just one part.

Recapping the year feels trite. I can’t, especially not when I’m full of this much beer, bacon, and Thai food.

But there’s always a hunger around New Year’s, bacon and Thai food aside. A yearning, an excitement for the year ahead and all its yet-to-be-realized plans. I graduate from Stonecoast in two weeks. I’m returning to a fabulous writers’ retreat. Museum theatre and beer and audio all continue to be important parts of my creative and professional lives.

And thinking about all of this, there is a word that comes to mind.

Audeamus. Let us dare.

I wrote about audacity ages ago: the willingness to take bold risks. The concept of audeamus is similar, but I think it also brings in connotations of courage. Being scared but doing it anyway. Striving for new ground.

This year, I’m writing a play. I have no idea what I’m doing with it, or where it will end up, or if I’ll do anything with it. But I want to write a play. I’m writing at least one novel. I’m submitting as many short stories as I can.

Standing on the precipice of the year, it’s intimidating.

But there’s another cool thing about the word audeamus. Add one letter, and it becomes gaudeamus.

Let us rejoice.

Tonight: audeamus, let us dare.

This time next year?

Gaudeamus.

Happy New Year, lovelies.

-KT

What I’m Listening To This Week

A friend offered me several introductions to Hamilton. There’s enough cleverness in the lyrics that I keep coming back to smile at the wordplay. Also, it gives ear-worms like no one’s business. There’s a line in this opening that strikes me as particularly fitting for New Year’s Eve:

There’s a million things I haven’t done

But just you wait.

Indeed.