One of the imaginary friends who lives inside my laptop* wrote a lovely post this week – preparing for the new year ahead, which includes a milestone birthday. This is the year that Manuel will turn 40.
Replying to his post
while assaulting my liver with bourbon, i hoarked up this:
one small bright spot, perhaps. i turned 40 ten years ago. and my 40′s have been my best decade so far… mostly because i completely stopped giving a flying fuck what anyone thought of me.
“yes. i’m fat. fuck you for noticing.”
“yes. i have wrinkles AND pimples. fuck you for noticing.”
“yes. i just drank a martini for breakfast. at my desk. because i needed it. fuck you for noticing and alerting the management”
It was a toss off comment. But it’s true. And it’s incredibly liberating.
It’s not that i don’t care what others think or feel. i simply couldn’t give a microscopic sliver of a fractionalized fuck about what they think or feel about me. About how i live my life. About how i look. About how i choose to spend my time.
For the past few days i’ve felt like i should do a “year in review” sort of post… To clear my head, maybe. Sort out a few things. Take advantage of the pinning point of a new calendar year.
There are a few small flies in my soup.
But i didn’t really want to. Just couldn’t get the words up. Couldn’t be bothered, really…
i use the blog as a way to collect thoughts, amuse myself, make friends, sort out things that keep me awake, and to get a handle on the complex relationship i have with my extended family**.
It’s all still there. i just don’t feel like examining any of it.
This is effectively captured in a quote that anniegirl1138 used in her New Year’s post that has nestled itself comfortably in my brainpan.
You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks or even months over-analyzing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could’ve, would’ve happened…
or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the fuck on.
Yep. What he said… It was a good year. Next.
** Who doesn’t?