One year ago today, I had my last class as an undergraduate.

One year ago today, I was offered a job by the president of a television production company.

One year ago today, I turned twenty-two. By all accounts, I should not be able to remember the ensuing night, but I do and I remember it fondly. For those that weren’t there, I promise you, it was a celebration. Parts of me wish I could be spending this birthday at Rudy’s Bar & Grill in Manhattan with my closest friends, but it just wouldn’t be the same.

You see, I’ve squandered this last year of my life. My twenty-second birthday was great because I was concluding one hell of an academic run if I do say so myself. It was great because I was being offered the kind of job I’d wanted for so long. It was great because though one chapter was coming to a close, I could see the future approaching rapidly and I was ready to take it on.

So what went wrong? For the last year I have done nothing but make excuses and lie to myself and others. I didn’t accept the job in New York because “the pay was too little.” I practically laid in bed for six months because “I was exhausted from an intensive year at Baylor.” In the last 365 days, I have told countless people – AND MYSELF!!! – that I was using my free-time to write.

I’ve written a whopping four pages and scribbled down a couple pages of notes that hardly count for an outline.

I’m done making excuses and I’m sick of lying to myself. Though I don’t traditionally make a huge deal out of birthdays, I suppose this day is as good as any to mark a new beginning.

I hate my job right now. It’s not a bad job, but it’s not where I want to be. As such, I’ve spent the last two weeks of my free time developing StolenLawnmower.com (still not done, but it’s coming along). I’m breaking out of my lazy habits and starting to be productive again. Let me tell you, it feels good. Damn good.

I’m no longer content to sit around and watch CBS and play Grand Theft Auto and merely talk about my candy-coated future. I’ve made many mistakes this last year, but I’m ready to forgive myself and pick up – as best I can – where I left off one year ago. The future I want won’t be handed to me. It’s up to me and me alone to make stuff happen.

One year ago, I told people I would have a film in the can by my twenty-fourth birthday. I’m now twenty three and behind, but I’m ready and willing to make up for lost time.

Hello my future. It’s me again. Miss me?