I’m so bad at blogging, which is weird, because I love it, because mostly I tell stories about myself and I’m my favorite thing. Anyway, I’d started a post about how things have changed since I moved to Virginia nine years ago last month, but it felt whiny and self-indulgent, and then turned into this whole thing about my skin and how it and I have both come to hate winter and then aging in general and how I’m not doing it well. Everything hurts! I get paper cuts just looking at paper! My cheeks are permanently rouged in a way that looks like a five-year-old attacked me with blush! Everything is terrible!
I mean, it’s fine. Whatever. I’m a survivor, I’ll survive this. (I’m the opposite of a survivor. I’m like one of those things that plays dead when they’re afraid except I’ll always be afraid and my pretend death will lead to starvation, dehydration, and my inevitable actual death.)
I’m working on a new book that I love, which is a departure from other things, but also, at the same time, super not a departure. It’s about love and it’s about the ocean, two things that, when faced with, will cause me to play dead. I mean, I like the ocean a lot. It’s my favorite thing. I could sit and stare at it for hours and feel like none of my day has been wasted. I used to run fearlessly into the waves! And then I got older and one time a wave body-slammed me onto the shore, way less gently than when my brother used to pretend he was Hulk Hogan, and for a few minutes I couldn’t breathe and I haven’t gone in the ocean since. My experience with love has been much the same.
But the new book! It’s coming along. This weekend it’s supposed to be 20 degrees, which is something that shouldn’t exist!I’m going to order pizza, and wear my pajamas all weekend, and possibly my electric blanket, and I’m going to write so much of this book! And also read a few things.
So anyway, the point is, that nine years ago I wouldn’t be doing this. Writing, mostly. Confronting my fears, even if for now it’s only through words. I’ve been so many people since I moved here and I think I’m finally settled, for the most part. You never stop changing, of course, but I spent all of my twenties trying to be someone other people thought I should be and I’ve finally stopped and it’s amazing! Everyone should do this! But hopefully you figure it out before age 32.
Nine years ago I definitely would have wasted work time writing a blog post, though, so I guess not THAT much as changed.