2005 was the year of the rooster.

Jason Mraz is always asked why the male chicken has become his mascot of choice. He usually explains that he admires the creature: The rooster starts the day with a song, no matter what kind of day it is; and despite that it’s an ugly song, it’s his song, and he is proud of it. I wish that I could be more like the rooster.

The year is quickly ending now, and what follows is an outline of what it brought me. 2005 was the first full year without my father, of a slew of holidays and events that he could not be a part of. It was the year I worked to mend a friendship with my mother, who remarried in October, and to forge a new one with my stepfather. It was the year I dove into my career. It was the year I explored Europe, the year I moved away from home, the year I lost my car, the year my beloved spaniel died. It was the year of relationships that would test me profoundly.

As I say every December 31, this has been the craziest year of my life.

January:

• My formal entry into professional journalism. After a variety of odd assignments, professional internships, and student work, my regular writing gig at the North County Times began at the beginning of the year. The job was practically served to me by an editor who called one day to ask if I wanted to write for her. Over the course of my tiny career, I have spoken to hundreds of people, each with his own story and character. It has been thrilling. I met dozens of local business luminaries, especially for my weekly profile series, as well as some quirky notables. I am endlessly inspired by these individuals. I also built precious professional relationships.

February:

• The beginning of my “older woman” phase. I met Krystill, the woman with 11 years on me, and I became enchanted with a world I was not welcome in. Passion, secrecy, tension, destruction. I learned the hard lessons of incompatible needs. Or so I thought I did.

March:

• Six months without my dad.
• Exposure to Deaf culture. Krystill, a sign-language interpreter, turned me on to the honesty, friendship, and humor of her universe. Out of it came a Telescope story I’m proud of. She challenged and heightened my perspectives on the disabled. And she inspired me to learn sign language.

April:

• A devastating car accident. An allegedly drunk driver threatened to prevent my next birthday, which fell a few days later. Although I was fine, my beautiful car — one of the last reminders of my father — was gone.
• The death of John Paul, which had a remarkable impact on me.
• My first A-1 story.
• My rejection from UCLA. I decided to go to UCSD.

May:

• My graduation from Palomar College. It was my academic haven after dropping out of high school at 16. It was where I discovered The Telescope and my passion for journalism. I received two associate’s degrees, one in journalism and another in liberal arts and studies.
• The beginning of my incredible backpacking journey through Europe.

June & July:

• Amazing experiences, mostly alone, in seven European countries. I found my Italian roots there, and I met the people who grew up with my father.

August:

• My return home from Europe. The trip was a major transition for me. Exhausted and ready, I began a new chapter of real life. I moved to downtown San Diego with my new roommate, Lisa, and said good-bye to the childhood home I had occupied for 20 years.

September:

• Hurricane Katrina. I was motivated to join the army of Red Cross volunteers.
• The one-year anniversary of my father’s death. My creative and emotional senses, as well as my sadness, were renewed, and the writing flowed out of me.
• My first quarter at UCSD.
• A new attention to personal style.

October:

• Five years of andrewphelps.com.
• The termination of Cookie, my dog of 11 years.
• The marriage of my mother to Andrew Ballantine.

November:

• Another older woman. This one is a lot more serious.

December:

• Christmas with my new family. It was the culmination of a year of personal struggle, of trying to come to terms with my mother’s life after my father. In mixed families, sometimes it is hard for the new husband and wife to understand the woes of the others. It all happened so fast; the whole thing started just a year ago.
• Everyone was together for the first time: my brother and his girlfriend, my stepfather and his two daughters, my mother, and I. Even the cats of both families were under the same roof. There have been awkward Brady Bunch moments, of course. But the conversations and connections have begun to blossom.

Cheers to a prosperous 2006.