I had lunch with Jill on Sunday, we ate giant burritos -- we each took half of our own home, come to think of it maybe we should have shared? But she gets the green salsa on top, myself the red, she the go to my stop.
She really is the go to my stop on frequent occasion. I text her when I'm feeling blue, anxious, questioning life as a writer.
"Time to move," she says, and I valiantly slouch toward the kitchen for water, bravely strap on my tennies and go for a walk.
Jill is my mental health champion, my cat sticker supplier, the doodle captain of Instagram. She is one of my favorite people I found on the Internet.
During our burrito meeting this weekend we covered our usual topics -- books, Netflix, Dolly & Max. We talked about what kind of writing we're doing lately, and I told her I haven't actually blogged in months, definitely the longest stretch since I started nearly 10 years ago.
Yesterday she posted this, and it made me feel brave to post something similar.
So here we go:
I find myself at the point in adult life when people ask me what's new, and I don't really know how to answer.
But like any good writer/thinker/good college tryer, you can always come up with an answer if you sit with the question long enough, right?
So let me sit here for a minute, and I'll think of what is actually new.
...
I have been excellently out of character recently in the fact that I actually return library books on time.
It's true.
One, that historically I have paid fines bigger than a breadbox to public libraries across the contiguous United States, so I do believe that I am singlehandedly keeping the institution alive.
And two, that I've been really good about getting my titles back in that book drop at their drop deadline.
Twice this year, I've devoted my lunch break to speed reading the second half of a middle grade novel that's due back that day. If I've sampled a book and feel I can move on without completing it, then I'll return it before its due date. But if I've invested emotionally in the content, I've carved out space to finish volumes that are important to me, and I feel like that's a valid gift I can give myself.
(By the way, how do you all feel about not finishing books that you start? I have abandoned HUNDREDS of titles over the years, because for me it's not something I lose sleep over. But I know that others feel differently.)
RELATIVELY, my bedroom has been cleaner than usual.
My car? Still a transportable disaster.
But my bedroom has gotten better. I've downsized a lot of the stuff I have -- including, yes, books -- and I tidy just a bit more often than I used to. And I frequently find that it doesn't take super long to get it looking better, which is new. It used to always be an overwhelming event to clean my room. Now it's only dramatic on occasion.
I bought plane tickets to Kansas City.
I've decided to go to my friend Tommy's wedding in the spring and to a Mark Knopfler show with my dad in the summer, despite my distaste for aviation travel.
Very excited to squish nephews and drink Boulevard Wheat and eat burnt ends and dance with my favorite wedding date.
AND see one of my all-time favorite musicians with one of my all-time favorite humans. So ready. But not quite ready. Letting the excitement build contributes to the final concert experience.
Ready.
Not quite.
(Ready.)
The Forever 21 sale page is my new Kryptonite.
Guys.
The faux gemstone rings. The lint rollers with cartoon dinosaurs on them. The delicate hexagon necklace and the knock-off triangle necklace like the one Ben gave Felicity!
And the bidding starts at 50 cents.
There are so many dollar and three dollar items on there, it's ridiculous. So you understand my status as repeat customer.
I have avoided purchasing all the concert tickets that I want.
I really have. I've purchased a few. For others I've made it as far as the select your seat ticketing page.
But I've retracted my finger from clicking "complete purchase" because, I don't know, I guess I have some self control. Not a lot, but a bit. Un peu.
Since (no one) asked, here are some of the shows I want to see but have not bought tickets for:
Lauren Daigle, Weird Al, Craig Ferguson, Hillsong, Mandolin Orange, Dido...
And the ones that have come and gone that I missed but hey look I'm still here:
Robyn, Patty Griffin.
Also my friend Caleb took me to see MØ and it was amazing, a top 10 all-time show for me.
My shoe collection is shrinking, and my sweater collection is blooming.
It's true.
I keep looking at shoes in my closet, wearing them (or not), and thinking, "Why?"
I've decided I'll be good with a pair of Converse, flip flops, wedges, work flats, and running shoes the end. I just don't want to be burdened with foot decorators. I have a hard enough time matching outfits and accessories, and my taste is too loud and I think I'm learning that red glitter pumps may identify me as a Kansan, but they don't exactly go with anything. Especially if I'm wearing purple and yellow and silver already. Which I am.
Sweaters on the other hand, I'm building a whole tulip garden of knit jewel tones in my closet.
I have grape. I have maroon with gold dots. I have blue. I have pink. I have it all, and with the help of my $3 Forever 21 triangle necklace, I am on my way to becoming Felicity.
*One of my favorite quotes from the show is when her roommate, Meghan, compares Felicity's life to watching Little House on the Prairie, "only with more sweaters." And if ever there was an insulting description to live up to, I think I'd want it to be that.
Because if I could be kind and speak in hushed tones and look always beautiful even in a chunky turtleneck, then I wouldn't be insulted at all.
***
LOOK AT THAT GUYS I JUST WROTE A BLOG POST. Now to hit "Publish," because it's cheaper than the "Complete Purchase" button.
Xox, I've missed you guys.
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