As I sit and reflect on another spin around the sun, still on the good side of the grass, I realize how much I squander. How much I waste in time or words or failing to forgive or the vitality vampire that is self doubt. Powerful, wasteful stuff.
I fritter away hours in front of the telly instead of giving life to the stories that fill and swirl in my melon, although admittedly Honey Boo Boo had me at “Why can’t my two sides be meat?” Say what you will, Mama June and posse love each other exactly as they are and to the core, 11-fingered babies and all.
I’ve talked for months—if not years—about visiting friends coast-to-coast,
their hearts and homes at the ready. Instead I clean house on weekends, everything
in its place to satisfy my obsessively tidy compulsions, chasing the dragon of lemony
freshness and crisp sheets.
As glamorous as it sounds to produce collateral in your underpants, working at home is lonely. It’s easy to shut one’s self in and off since there’s no need to shower or paint the barn or put on shoes. But I’m too young to wear pajamas in the
daytime. I'm a paid marketing copywriter (they says it's the same, but it isn't the same) but I don't write for me, leaning on the excuse of fatigue and bemoaning how I have no words left. It’s a cop-out I cover with after five cocktails and saying I can’t so I won’t and therefore never fail.
Wow. I just heard a voice that sounded like mine say, "Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are.” In the seconds it took to come out of my hands and on to the keyboard I recognized pure fear talking. Fuck you fear. Thank you and fuck you. Wow.
So the food blogging is done. I love my food and I love my city but sometimes you just want an ice cold beer and an onion ring, hold the pretentious foodie adverbs. I'm going to tell stories and give them a home here. Again. What I started in 2006, I'm not finished with.
I’ve been wasting light. We’re here on earth for a blip and the light goes out before any of us really want it to.
So today I got up and when for a bike spin. And then a cupcake.
So I give this year more words. Word for word for word, forward.
So I give this year more listening instead of waiting to talk, sharing words to be heard and not to simply fill up space.
So I give this year more health and appreciation that even though it hurts sometimes and cute shoes with good arch support are hard to find, my feet hold me up and my legs are strong to carry me where I need to go. My heart shines and I breath in and out effortlessly.
So I give this year more going outside, spreading arms wide out and spinning in the grass until I get dizzy. And worry less that the bed's unmade or the cat has vomited in the litter box. Again.
So I give this year over to love and trust and actions over words. I want to try because I want to believe I’m worthy of it.
And if I could, today I buy you all cake.