My mother brought this up the other day. She said, “Mary, you haven’t been writing lately.” At first, the response was simple and to the point. “You’re right. I just haven’t had anything to say.” Well, yes, that is the truth, albeit a heavily truncated version of the truth. After dissecting that statement over the past few days, I believe I have a better, more thought out response to that: I had words to say (and correction: I have been writing…the ever-in-progress-novel). I just didn’t know if they were relevant.
This brings me to the question of relevance and all that encompasses that. I don’t know necessarily who is reading this (other than the president of my fan club, my mother) and sometimes, when wondering who your audience is (know your audience), you begin to question the validity of statements and tone. Well, sorry folks, I’m done questioning. I don’t know who you are but here we go…yippee. Hi mom.
So while deconstructing that argument of validity, I began to outline what has been happening since the last post (I am too embarrassed to even check when the last post was, what I do know is that I have skipped every major holiday and avoided them in writing much as I did in ‘real life’). A debriefing of sorts I suppose shall suffice:
- I fell into my standard holiday depression. I am beginning to wonder if depression is something that will continue to plague me as the years progress and hormones continue to spiral out of control. Dear women on birth control, I commend you. I almost wrote a piece about that but decided for the male subscribers, that would be a little too much information. Also, that requires having a partner (even random) to have said ‘meetings’ with and well, BC hasn’t exactly been necessary when your life can easily be lumped into four things: Work. Sleep. Eat. Dog. If someone ever wanted to case my house, it would take a mere matter of days for them to figure out my schedule. Moving on…
- I am in a bit of a bickering match, or lack there of with my best friend right now. We haven’t spoken in over a week and while we are two very stubborn individuals, my feelings are still gravely hurt and I don’t know how to piece the words together appropriately to tell her how I feel other than to say, you fucking pissed me off. And never, I repeat NEVER put my dog in his crate again (that’s not what started the argument but it certainly did not help either).
- I don’t believe in New Year Resolutions as I gather they are most often broken. I am instead relying on what I now call my New Year Responsibility. What is that? you ask. Well, I have not mentioned this as it’s not a very proud conversation but here it is anyway. I am in a wee bit of debt outside of my student loans. Put it this way, I spent the early part of my 20s being irresponsible and behind a bottle. I didn’t exactly pay some medical bills when they were due and well, I want to buy a house at some point in my life. Insert 2011 and Operation Get Out of Debt (aside from the hellacious student loans). I am determined, budgeted, and have even acquired a Tri-Met pass. Farewell car and downtown parking fees. Hello public transportation and a slowly rising credit score. I thought getting old was supposed to be fun…
- My life isn’t where I had expected it to be at 25-almost-26. I didn’t expect to be married, kids, the white picket fence, but I figured I wouldn’t still be bartending my way through bartending. I am tired…so tired. I had to start seeing a chiropractor just to find walking comfortable again. By the end of this year, I refuse to be bartending. It’s time to make shit happen in more ways than just the credit score. This year, I will find a job that doesn’t make we want to pull my hair out. Hopefully one with a little piece of joy I refer to as health insurance. Something that makes me come home at the end of the day NOT hating humanity. I am sick of correcting grammar. I am sick of booze. And I don’t even drink the shit. Maybe I should change the name of 2011 from Operation Get Out of Debt to Operation Make Life Count. Yes. That’s the spirit, Burger.
- I am single. I don’t know really where to go with that but yup, I still am. I didn’t think that would change and I have been the last person to act on that. Maybe that is why I ignore New Years Eve and the debacle that is Amateur Night. I am almost afraid that I enjoy being alone too much such that I purchased a new TV (hello HD) and now have streaming NetFlix. Maybe life as a cave woman (in high definition) is the way for me. Or maybe I should start getting out more. Please, just please, don’t talk to me on the bus. I am still from a New England family, a wee bit snobby, and am well-versed in firearms and self-defense.
So there it is. I’m sure somewhere hidden in that loquacious outline is a sense of relevance with all of you. Or maybe a simple conversation starter. I don’t know. What I do know is that I have a tendency to be redundant. You heard (or read) me whine for over a year about a broken heart. I am kind of in that “now what?” section of life when that heart is no longer broken, doesn’t belong to anyone, and though I may suffer from bouts of depression and significant solitude, I am happy. I don’t know how to write when I am happy. And I don’t want to write on a consistent basis when all I am writing about is the same thing, just reworked and reworded. So I guess, Happy New Year. Skordo says woof and Olive, well, she says meow and just peed on my bathmat. Great. At least she is consistent.
Wow. I missed this…