An evening of grief once turned into my most liberating New Year's Eve | Shanti Nelson

Contributing sentiments towards policy:

63% : shuffles into earshot when I'm suddenly consumed with what I believe to be, beyond a reasonable (or sober) doubt, the best-laid plan of my life.
50% : No "Why does my mouth taste like cigarettes?" or "Why is my tongue orange?"
49% : I dug out the battered cassette tape from a dusty Vans shoebox in the attic after downing the second half of the Italian bubbly and gorging myself on what I believed to be the last Swedish fish (lest we forget the one atop my head).
47% : In their garden, here and now!" I throw my arms above my head, rejoicing in my decision, but sadly I'm preaching to an empty crowd.
41% : Nor was it included in the plethora of grandiose memorial plans I had been tirelessly turning over in my grieving brain since losing both of my parents.

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