That’s okay, you don’t have to agree. I don’t use them very often. And if I do, I’m typically by myself.
I also am secretly fascinated by Disney, but can’t justify the cost. No matter how many times I’ve gone through the motions of trying to organize a trip to go. From driving, to meal cards, to flying, to payment plans, I don’t think Disney is in my foreseeable future.
I hate surprises. And not just surprise parties, but if I’ve asked – I want to know. Don’t hide it. This goes for spoiling the ending of movies, and TV shows. Tell me, and I’ll decide if I want to watch it after all.
I yell in traffic. Just awful, horrible, ugly, insulting words I use. Many of them expletives. But always with the window up, and never a wagging obscene finger gesture. Just yelling. “GO,” I usually yell, “USE THE GAS PEDAL!!!!!!!!!!!”
I get wigged out when people use people forks or spoons for cat/dog wet food. They should have their own utensils.
I believe kids should have kid toys and kid toys should go back to kid rooms when kids are done playing with them. I think it’s appropriate to have adult spaces, and kid spaces, and while they can get intertwined, they should be set back to right.
I always close cupboard doors. I really believe in bad juju. Hanging the doors wide open feels like an invitation for bad energy. I don’t know where this one comes from. But I always tell Jan and the kids – close the door, it’s bad juju. And they look at me like I have three heads, but they close them, anyway.
I hate answering the phone, but get frustrated when someone doesn’t answer my call off the first ring. I have the worst time returning text messages, but get annoyed when someone doesn’t respond right away. This, again, doesn’t make any sense. But I haven’t spent the better part of the thirty-seven years being understood, anyway.
I’ve been a misfit my whole life. A black sheep in the flock; a speck of pink rice in a fold of white. I’ve got a big mouth, big ideas, big opinions, and I never back down from a fight. I’ll take the last word, thank you, even if you’ve tried to take it from me. And the last word might just be me informing you that I’ve given you the last word to make you feel better. Then I smirk, knowing I had the last word, after all.
If you’re anything like me, you get it. You know that barely a thing about you is conventional in the rational sense. Currently, I’m listening to Zep III on my new record cabinet. Yesterday, I was listening to Atlantic Starr drinking wine. And probably tonight, I’ll dabble in the Frozen II soundtrack. Idina Menzel is my homegirl right now.
We dye our hair, and we ink our arms, and we speak out against injustice, and bad endings to our favourite series. We’re not afraid to say the ‘f’ word, or take a tequila shot or three. I hate direct sales parties (please stop inviting me to check out your spice, tupperware, or scented candles), but I love the congregation of women over for charcuterie. Paint nights are not my jam. But, “Friends” trivia? I’m down.
I don’t know. It’s complicated. Like me.
And maybe you, too?
I use platforms like TikTok (as I’m consistently reminded, it’s for teenagers), I shop at Hot Topic, and I love Billie Eilish, Lizzo, & Post Malone.
I am only 37. I am only 37. Holy shit, I’m so young. And I have a kid in college, for chrissake. This is how I live my life. I want skateboards, and tickets to Bonaroo. I want indie music, and record players, and wear disco-ball inspired dresses to Christmas breakfasts. I want to take dance lessons, learn the bass guitar, watch serial killer documentaries – and …
I am 37, now. I’m already 37. Holy shit, time to get it done. I have a kid in college, for chrissake. It’s time to figure out how to live my life. I want order in my kitchen, a neatly hung decorations on the wall. I want the recycling sorted, the garbage in its bins. I want beds made, the groceries put away, and the dishes to not be hanging out in the sink. I check my credit score often, and pay my bills on time. Each flagged with a little “paid” note along the top.
Don’t be afraid of duality.
Don’t be afraid of being both.
Don’t be afraid of standing out, while standing up for what you believe in. Don’t be afraid to have strong opinions about the things you love, and don’t love. Things you want to be and things you refuse to conform to. No one else is going to live this life for you. If you want to ski down that hill, backwards on a snowboard on your fortieth birthday, then get gone. If you’d prefer to protect your investments by carefully curating a financial portfolio that will permit you to retire at sixty-five, have at ‘er.
Here’s what I’ve learned:
You’re not doing it wrong, if you’re doing it authentically.
And what you loved when you were twenty, might be something you’ve modified by thirty. But who you are at your core – that will won’t change. That’s who you’re always going to be. An evolved, maturing, more defined version of the kid who found their way by continuing to look for it.
Perhaps you’re like me. A complex, complicated, surprisingly simple person with big dreams, and even bigger aspirations. Welcome. You’re not alone.
Oh. And I really do think hot tubs are gross. A churning cesspool of germs. Blargh.
— c ☆