the sloppy copy

I just saw out a small group of friends who were kind enough, fun enough, awesome enough to come celebrate my birthday with me. Ever so simply, at my apartment, with beers and taquitos and sparkling conversation. I technically do not reach another age for another five hours or so, but I’m still recollecting, reminiscing, and remembering all of my Years Past.

I’ve known love. I’ve felt as if I were complete in the arms and in the company of another. I’ve given myself wholly to another, emotionally naked. I’ve entertained the idea of Forever, and it wasn’t a far-fetched possibility.

I’ve known heartbreak. I’ve been disappointed almost beyond repair. I’ve felt physical pain caused by emotional distress. I’ve cried until my eyes could not produce tears any longer. Also, I cried until I scared my cat.

I’ve known happiness. I’ve known intense satisfaction at a job well done, and the relief of a prayer answered. I’ve danced for joy both alone and in the company of others. I’ve fallen to my knees and praised God.

I’ve known despair. I’ve fallen into the grasp of depressions so deep the only way out I sought was down. I’ve been beyond hopeless, jaded and alone.

I’ve known anger. I’ve felt rage so hot and blinding it consumed me. I’ve wished death and dismemberment on those closest to me. I’ve wanted nothing more than to inflict physical violence on those who I felt wronged me.

I’ve known peace. I’ve been overwhelmed with calm, and the innate notion that everything will be okay, and to not worry, and that things will work themselves out.

I’ve lived a life worth living, felt feelings worth feeling, and told stories worth telling.

Happy birthday, indeed.

While New Years’ resolutions are nice and all, I think if your point is to take a year to better yourself it makes more sense to start with YOUR birthday. Unless you were born on January 1st, in which case I’m sorry that your friends are always too hungover to go out to brunch with you on your birthday.

That said, my birthday is tomorrow (please pm me for details on how to send cash and fabulous prizes). Ahem. ANYWAY, before my cup of coffee wore off this morning I was all like “I WILL MAKE IT A GOAL TO WRITE SOMETHING AND POST IT HERE EVERY SINGLE DAY FOR AN ENTIRE YEAR! YEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS! THIS IS SO HAPPENING!”

And then I came to my senses. A year? Oy. How about a week? Nah, that’s slightly too easy. A month? Hmmm. I think I can handle that. Maybe.

Do I promise well-written and thoughtful prose every damn day of the month? Nope. No way.
But something – even if it’s just a sentence – each day for the next 30 days? Yes. I will do this.

I think.

I posted a fb status last night that I blatantly ripped from something I saw on Pinterest. Meta, right?

Are you familiar with that FUCK YEAH, I DID THIS! feeling? I’m sure we all experience it from time-to-time (perhaps with different internal narration, though I highly recommend my wording). Anyway, isn’t that feeling the GREATEST? I’m not even talking about outrageous exploits here – one need not have just scaled K2 to have their FUCK YEAH! moment. I mean, it usually seems to come with tackling the everyday tasks – albeit with motherfucking GUSTO and PURPOSE.

I try very hard to remind myself how good a FUCK YEAH moment feels when I find myself hesitating – over anything, really. Performing a work-related task. Running an errand I’ve put off shamefully long. Following through with a random idea that pops into my head. Because time spent hesitating and overthinking is time that eventually could be spent a) doing the whatever-that-needs-doing and b) [more importantly] relishing the fact that you just DID SOMETHING. It’s no contest, really.

I recall times in the past where I wished I would have spoken up/acted sooner/ignored the haters and it’s a terrible feeling in retrospect, knowing that the ball was in my court the whole damn time and I just stood with it and let the clock run out. On the flip side, though, I recall times when I just said “screw it, let’s do this” and – metaphorical balls-to-the-wall – just. fucking. did it. That’s a great feeling, ya know?

Don’t get me wrong: it doesn’t always go well (thinking and hesitating aren’t always bad*) But I prefer to queue up the times when I felt AWESOME after checking the overthinking part of my brain at the door. Because I think that Life needs more FUCK YEAH! moments. In fact, I think it’s entirely possibly to live from moment-to-moment in this way.

…though shouting out FUCK YEAH I DID THIS! each time might end with a trip to HR.

* ie deciding to drop everything, quit school and move to another state. Not to sound like a hypocrite, because I did just that and it worked, but I could have used a liiiittle more planning.

I’m on the fringes, half-listening. I wasn’t part of the original conversation but – goddamn am I nosy! – I’ve nodded-and-laughed my way halfway into it.

It begins casually enough. “Oh, do you watch XYZ?” they ask. Eagerly.

Is this a show that is currently popular? Of course I don’t. Aloud, I answer with a sheepish “Naaaaaw…”

The response is emphatic. I’m told I totally should! I’d love it! It’s soooooo good! Then I’d know what everyone is talking about on Monday/Thursday/Wednesday/Every morning!

And I think yeah! I’ve got the cable television! I’ve got the internets! LET’S DO THIS!

And I go home and queue it up and get myself all situated. This is gonna be great! Truly, there’s nothing like the feeling of beginning a new Something – that feeling of excitement and anticipation is nice.*  And how fun will it be to actually participate in the conversation the next time?!

So I’m a-watchin’ and a-hopin’ and a-anticipatin’ and… I got nothin’. No immediate love, I’m not hooked, I’m not even that interested. A zillion different factors combine in such a way that I am left feeling disappointed. Because this! THIS was gonna be the time! The time that I finally got the hype!

The first time around, that is.

Because here’s the thing: just because I didn’t “get it” the first time around doesn’t mean I never will. I mean, sometimes I’ll try to pick it back up again later and it still won’t stick. But more often than not, that second chance is all I need. Days, months, sometimes years later: I’m flipping through the channels, catch a glimpse of something Interesting, and I’ll be damned! This is XYZ! 

[Unfortunately, I’m still working on a way to nonchalantly insert myself back in archived conversation. I imagine it’d be something like this:
Julie: Hey, guys! Remember when you were talking about how they killed off Bob? That was SO surprising! I didn’t see that coming, either!!!
Coworkers: Um, except that you did. Because you heard us talking about it. Six months ago.]

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to check out this  LOST show. The people I worked with in 2007 thought it was pretty boss.

*even if it is a television show, which perhaps makes my life infinity-times more shallow.

For almost as long as I can remember, my mom has joked that I do everything “the Julie way.” What she means is that I somehow find the most difficult, roundabout, bass-ackwards way of doing just about anything. But I get it done, damn it. And in the end, isn’t that what matters? Oh, sure, it would have been easier to not have put that bookshelf together upside down the first time, but I eventually got it right. And I appreciate that fucking bookshelf all the more, because it took me twice as long to build it.

Sometimes I let the following thought slide across my brain: What are you doing with your life? Is this it? Is this really the place you figured you’d end up? And I worry, and sometimes hang my head, because it’s so easy to think that I failed myself. But that’s also bullshit. I just took the long way ’round. Never in a million years did I think I’d be here – physically, emotionally, whateverally. And yet: here I fucking am.

I like it here.

I’d like to stay for awhile.