Day 262 | August 30 You opened your eyes today. Or rather, your eyes were opened for you. […]
25th Birthday
Hey People, Normally I reserve Mondays for updates, but I reserved this past Monday for being bitter about […]
Day 271
LeeLoo, the family dog, is missing. Well actually, she’s not the family’s dog. She’s your brother’s dog, but she’s been your brother’s dog for about 11 years now. So really, if we’re all being honest, your weird, furry sister is missing for three days now.
You feel the familiar feelings of dead and unretreivable pets. You feel the familiar feelings of being so very far away and unable to contribute anything meaningful besides a few encouraging texts and lies of “I’m sure she’s fine, having the time of her life!” You feel the familiar feelings of God telling you that you are so not in control. Of anything.
But ultimately, this isn’t really about you. It’s about you’re brother. And his dog. And the way the world feels like an upturned snow globe today.
Tranlsation: Twenty-five is briefly living upside down with fake snow pouring down and then back up around you before you can ever get your footing. (Oh, it’s also living in a hard plastic dome that you don’t see until you bang your head into it. So, you know, be careful.)
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Day 36: January 16
You slept terribly last night, bad dreams, waking up every few hours, sheets in tangles. But, this is actually normal for you. So really, you slept normally last night.
And hey, dude, what’s the deal with your iPhone clutched in your hand? You always sleep like that?
Check it out. You wrote a sleep-note at 3am about a dream you had last night. Must have been something real important that you didn’t want to forget:
At the Barnes and Noble:
There was a public bathroom that, instead of an enclosed stall, contained just a toilet in an open glass room. Then entire store could see into it. There was a single sign posted with directions for properly using the bathroom that said, “PULL UP PANTS QUICKLY!” [so no one gets a good look at your naked parts]
Unfortunately, as is often the case for me, I struggled to get my jeans over my butt. I had to kind of wiggle myself into them. It was a slow process. When I turned around to find the non-existent sink, I saw a guy smirking at me through the glass. He was just standing there, watching me like a creep.
Day 32: January 12
Get out of the house for church and brunch, because church always makes you feel better and brunch is delicious. Joke that you have walking pneumonia or something. Notice that people laugh uncomfortably and move their chairs a little further from you than normal.
Overhear a conversation you weren’t supposed to hear. That’s awkward. Remember how challenging life is when you can’t unhear things you’ve heard and you can’t unknow things you now know.
Venture to the coffee shop—by all means, keep spreading your germs—and order without thinking. Laugh when the waiter brings your food: Abita root beer and the only gumbo you’ll accept here. Comfort food. Good ole’ Louisiana comfort food.
Meet up with your trusty friend, because she knows you’re being irrational and she has some non-unknowable things happening in her life, too. Happy hour it up, and use that time to make big life decisions. Like online dating. Yeah. That’s good. Decide that you both need online dating profiles. Invite a trusty man-friend to help with this process, because you know, he’s guy and stuff. He’ll know what to say.
Day 28: January 8
Go back to work after a long, long break. It’s exhausting. You’re exhausted. But! check your email at exactly the right time and finally sign up for Baltimore Print Studio’s letter press workshop for February. Get excited. And then get in bed, because Dude, you are still sick.
Translation: Twenty-five is letter pressing. Beautiful, nerdy letter pressing.
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Day 29: January 9
Take on a new responsibility at work: line up the graduates by shouting their name and telling them where to go. Realize, only as you begin shouting, that you are the worst at pronouncing strangers’ names. Try to compensate by saying, “He-blah-ble-blah over here! And I’m sorry. Really sorry. Don’t worry, I don’t call the names on stage. And congratulations!”
Day 26: January 6
It’s Sunday; get your butt out of bed. Seriously, get up. Get dressed for church. Put real effort in, and by that I mean you can still wear jeans, but maybe wear boots that don’t have massive holes in the heels (when are you going to let those shoes die by the way?).
Realize, as you’re getting into your car, that there’s this whole “freezing rain” situation. You don’t really know what this entails (I mean, you can guess), but your neighbor spots you slipping and sliding just walking and suggests that maybe you pray from home today. Maybe freezing rain is no joke.
Spend your day making books and cooking something southern for the after Christmas party you’re hosting tonight. (You should have started these books before you got the flu. It’s really difficult to finish these with zero energy.)
Translation: Twenty-five is learning how to handle winter and finding another pair of black boots that won’t let ice come in contact with your stocking-feet. (Those are related goals). It’s also endeavoring to be the kind of person that not only thinks of great gifts, but also the kind of person that executes them on time. Stop being the girl that starts all presents with, “So what happened was…”
Day 22: January 2
Stay in bed. Or on the couch. Or on the cold floor between the living room and your bedroom. Because the dusty wood feels good on your feverish face.
Oh, and clean your floor. You’ve really fallen down on the job (pun very much intended) lately. Where’s your OCD-perfectionist-type-A persona been hiding?
Don’t admit you have the flu just yet. Tell people it’s some kind of cold or something. But you’re still fine for the party you hosting on Sunday.
Translation:Twenty-five is sleeping on the floor. And being concerned about this only as it relates to your housekeeping habits rather than its larger implications of your life choices.
Day 19: December 30
Brace yourself. It’s another day with Delta.
But this time, you’re too forlorn to make detailed notes about the experience. Because vacation’s over. It’s time to get back to all those things you’re avoiding back in Baltimore. It’s time to go home. Back to real life.
But remember, that’s joyous! You like Baltimore. (Even if you’ve yet to convince your landlord the value of a dog.)
You drag your feet through the airport like a pouting child, willing your four-hour layover to move quickly. It declines.
In the meantime, you continue with the email and hard drive clean up you’ve been pursuing all week.
You come across a folder labeled “for the blog.” You remember this as the folder you’ve been putting stuff in for the blog. You open it and realize that you’ve been slacking. You haven’t posted any of this stuff. And really, it’s not so much “stuff” as it is “photos that made you laugh.”
Whelp, better late than never, right?
Day 16: December 27
Repeat Day 15 except this time, don’t try to fool yourself with a pathetic run. It’s vacation. There are still left overs to be had. And you’re facing the last days with this puppy:
