I was going to write a post called God Fingered Me (And He Didn’t Even Buy Me Dinner First). I was more than halfway through it when I lost all but a paragraph of it. I figured I wasn’t meant to write it and the Universe sucked it into some supermassive black hole after God saw it, clapped his hands and boomed “Fuck this shit. I’m out!”
I stopped making New Year’s resolutions years ago. I’m never going to lose those 20 pounds (okay, 30) with healthy eating and regular exercise. Two weeks from now I’ll no doubt be face down in M&Ms, splurging on one of those HUGE Costco boxes of candy. I’ll probably stretch more because, like a sneeze, stretching feels good and you don’t have to exert yourself. If I find myself panting after trying to touch my toes, I’ll go get help.
I’ll never really master Spanish. I can ask where the bathroom is (because that seems to be important with my colon’s track record with Mexican food) but I’ll never be that asshole at Azteca, ordering, in Spanish, for the entire table. I probably won’t write a novel in three months unless I can get my hands on some speed, then I can churn out a 700 page novel in 3 hours and right after that, a heart attack.
I probably won’t get on the fast track to a brilliant career as a graphic artist or a medical assistant. I can’t draw and I don’t like touching people. At the end of 2014 I’ll still be working in the basement of the library, trying not to sit in my corner with my brain attacking itself with questions like “What are you doing with your life?” or “What happened to those dried apricots you had in the bottom drawer of your desk?”
But you know what? Chicken butt. Seriously, there are a whole lot of “I won’ts” in this post and that’s not what I was aiming for. I will let go of the things that keep me angry, that keep me feeling like I’m burning up with a rage like a Roman Candle getting lit up right behind my heart. I will cut ties with people who don’t support me. I will be kinder. I won’t say FUCK as much. Out loud. I’ll be a better daughter. I’ll be a better sister. I’ll be a better friend and not take my bad days out on the people I care about. That’s what enemies are for. I’ll be a better dog sibling (even though I think Maxhole the Dog is plotting my death so he can get Mom all to himself).
I’ll be a better writer. Well, strike that. I’ll write more and explore writing. I haven’t given up altogether.
That’s about it. Everybody have a great New Year. Peace the fuck out.
What? I can still say fuck. I have five and a half hours until 2014.