O holy shiz
Outside people were banging pots together and stuff, just like six minutes ago. It's 12:12 AM now. There were fireworks. I thought The Bug would stay up this year. I was training him the last few days, keeping him up on the couch watching DVDs, zombielike, until after 11:00 PM. It didn't work, though. He was hell on wheels after 10:00 PM so Mister Aran put him to bed.I thought I'd abandoned this page a lot longer ago but it was only last February. Goodness. Almost a year, I guess. I did shred off ten pounds, which was the last thing I was talking about, if you're at all interested in that kind of thing. Jillian Michaels is my god. I could go on and on about that. Maybe I will eventually.
It was the Year of Celeste, the Year of Organics, the Year of Living In A Cave. I tend to dip into long periods of darkness where I stay up all night hanging out in online communities, listening to music and typing. Places where I can be profound and gorgeous because people only know me by my typing, which is better than my speaking by far. By faaaaar. I reserve the right to use compound vowels in words for emphasis these days.
Anyway, so after the darkness times, I clean myself out, and I mean I stick the metaphorical tube up my metaphorical ass and flush out all the stuff, the bad stuff and the good stuff. And I spend a lot of money replacing things that have worn out, and I start taking care of people better (I think?) and I write. I am writing, but I won't talk about it, don't worry. Not right now, anyway.
I have been buying things because I am a patriotic American and I think this means filling up the Matrix with gas and buying stuff made in China so our economy and the economy of the world will get back up to fighting speed. I don't know what I'm talking about, but at least I know I don't know what I'm talking about. I'm not proud of that, but I know.
I bought a teensy laptop, and I mean teensy, like my hands take up the entire thing. The shift key on the right is in an odd place so I find myself avoiding starting sentences with words that begin with letters that require that key.
I bought a bunch of shirts and skinny jeans and suede boots. I stood in a dressing room and had a child, I mean a girl born in the nineties, bring me clothing and show me how to wear it. At the end, she said she was having a belt epiphany and I had one, too, because I got it. I said, "Oh, it's the eighties again." She was all like what?
Aside: I went to Twilight on Christmas and there was this girl sitting next to me who entertained me the entire time with this commentary: "She's like, what?" "She's all like, okaaaaay." "She's all, huh?" Brilliant, and I'm not being snarky. That pretty much sums things up nicely. I won't get into Twilight here, though. That, along with the whole writing thing and the shredding weight thing, needs more blog posting time than I'm allotting now.
Again I reiterate: there are people born in the nineties who are adults now. Working in stores, selling me things.
I feel like such a nonconformist on holidays when I go to Trader Joe's and park far away and walk with purpose and smile at everyone and leisurely surf the web on my Blackberry in line and cheerfully help sack my eighteen different kinds of desserts.
Can you believe I've been posting on this page for like four years? Why?
posted by Samus @ 12:11 AM
2 Comments:
I just have to say that this post reminds me SO MUCH of when I first met you. Not to suggest you have gone backwards in time, but it's something about your voice, I dunno. I like it.
Thanks for your comments on my blog. Psychic! Ben's nearly 7 mos old. Can you remember such hell? No, actually 7 mos is a great age, lots of fun. The first 3 months, however, ooh baby. Can you say not at all prepared for sleep deprivation? And my child does not sleep. Not a sleeper!
I'm going to go back to the early days of your blog. If there's one thing I've learned about motherhood so far it's that it is a totally alienating experience if you don't align yourself with other procreators. Only they understand (as you do) how you can stop speaking the English language overnight due to exhaustion, forget how to drive a car, never know where anything is if it isn't in a diaper bag (and screw those diaper bag companies for trying to sell me shit for $60...) and look in the mirror and wonder how you got so old, unkempt and bagged out in just three months
Yeah, it was so late when I finally looked up your blog that I didn't read, I just skimmed, and then I just page-downed for a long ass time so I could see the pictures. But what I skimmed made me smile. It's all like, sacrifice and loopy sleep-deprived truths like "I thought I was gonna ______." All I can say at this time is, don't worry. It gets better. It gets easier, I think. There's this wave of wonderful that happens once they can communicate which is why I advocate starting the baby sign language early, like maybe a week before conception if possible, the way some east coast mothers sign their babies up for hot preschools in the womb. Once they start talking it's just the shit! Suddenly every day is like when you see Jizz In My Pants on youtube and you find out your best friend hasn't seen it, and you get to watch them see it for the first time. Do not fear the toddler years. Oy, I need coffee.
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