We’re coming up here on one year. And by “we” and “one year,” I mean Megan and I are coming up on our one year anniversary.

It’s a big deal for me. Maintaining relationships has never been one of my greatest skills. I am, at my core, a frenetic girl. Warp speed brain, distracted, self-involved. As one of my friends (who I won’t name because he’s all “I want my privacy”) and I have discussed in the past, dating is hard for creative types like the two of us because the blank slate is all possibility and we can write such interesting tragedies.

And, c’mon, who doesn’t like a good passionate tragedy?

It has struck me over the last few months that movies/stories I once identified with (oddly enough, these stories are passionately tragic…) seem, well, kind of boring.

This kind of sustainable, non-tragic love has been good for me. I’ve mellowed a bit. Yeah, I’m still a ball of mental energy, but it’s not quite the same.

And so this is a public thank you to Megan:

• for humoring my need for text exhibitionism via Twitter et al and the blog and for the fact that she inevitably winds up with a presence there as well
• for being the ideal counterbalance to my spaced out, distracted mind
• for watching Countdown and appreciating Wonkette and introducing me to fantastic feminist blogs and consuming information and news at the same kind of rate that I do
• for being independent and stubborn and seemingly incapable of being steamrolled by my personality (no small feat, people)
• for understanding that anything I don’t know I must find out immediately, even if it means dragging my computer into bed to look up something on Wikipedia
• for being beautiful
• for making me a better person
• for all the things I can’t/don’t want to share on my little blog

This has been a year of being the happiest ever.