The holidays came and went with little fanfare this year.  This was not such a bad thing.  People get crazy during the holidays.  Too much worry and fuss for all the wrong reasons.   It feels good to have them behind us.

January is one of my favorite months.  In January, we breathe deeply and re-focus on the road ahead.  Some of us make what we like to call “resolutions” - promises to ourselves to do this and that and the other to become the person we are supposed to hurry up and be already.   “This year, I will... go to the gym, eat organic, visit Nana, write a symphony, marry a prince, take over a small country, clean out the garage,  stop stealing my dad’s pain meds, etc. etc.”  All well and good except we don’t bother to keep these promises past February most years.  Maybe we’re setting the bar too high.  Unrealistic goals are a procrastinator’s crack pipe.

Maybe we just need to focus on one thing at a time.  How the shit am I supposed to concentrate on creating great vats of completely original and life-changing art when all I can think about is that email from that one douchebag at work, and how I need to replace all the tables with divs on that one site, and I need to get this deposit in the bank before 2:00 p.m., but first I need to get something to eat before I pass out, but before that I just need to make this quick phone call, right after I take the dogs out, as soon as I finish watching this YouTube video of a cat falling off a table? Are you you reading me, here?  Does this sound even vaguely familiar to you?

I’m going to try something new this year.  This year, I’m just going to focus on one thing.  One thing.  Not two, not a list of 3, maybe 4.  One.  This year, I’m going to breathe.  (Wow.  Don’t over-exert yourself, sister.)  Look, I don’t mean just in, out, in, out, mindless, routine, my-body’s-doing-all-the-work kinda breathing.  I mean slow, deliberate breathing where the focus is on the breath itself and my connection to the earth.  (Oh... what... whoa!!!  She’s a hippie!  HIPPIEEEEE!!!!  You can think it sounds corny if you want to.  It does sound corny.  Who gives a fuck?  Really.  Who. Gives. A. Fuck?  I, for one, am really trying to embrace more of a who-gives-a-fuck attitude in my daily life.  It’s surprisingly freeing.  Not to say that we should all just stop giving a shit about one another.  That’s not where I’m going.  What I mean to say is there’s just really no need to be all that concerned with what other people may believe to be true about you.  Do you know the truth?  Are you that way?  Or are you cool mother fucker?  If you’re not what they think you are, it really doesn’t matter what they think.  If you are what they think you are and you’re okay with it, it really doesn’t matter what they think.  If you are what they think are and you’re not okay with it, it really doesn’t matter what they think.  But, you can change if you so choose so that you - not them - are okay with it.  Mini-tangent: over.)

Breathing.  That’s my new year’s resolution.  The end.

(image credit: Bird in Hand by Scott Jackson)

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This is a really good interview with the late great George Carlin, who talks about his life as a writer, comedian, and actor. What I really like about this interview, besides the fact that I love Carlin, are the things he says about finding what he did and didn’t feel comfortable doing, and honing in on his stronger abilities. It’s comforting to hear an artist who I hold in the highest esteem talk about feeling out of place trying new things.

This goes hand in hand with another post from the same website where I found this Carlin interview. Merlin Mann, who I think is an extremely talented writer, has recently decided to re-invent himself. Maybe not himself, so much, as one of his online “things.” The guy has been running a pretty popular website that was previously sort of a “life-hacker-y, productivity, how to get shit done” blog. Which, I’ll be honest, I liked just as it was. Because of his writing and his humor. Then, he started doing some geek podcasts, and online videos, and most recently, a really funny podcast called You Look Nice Today. And when he realized that he liked doing all this new shit and was going through some creative changes, he decided - even though the website, as it had been running, was extremely popular, that he just wasn’t down with continuing on in that vein. So, he changed it up, and was bold enough to try something new. Something he didn’t know if he would be good at or not, but gave a enough of a shit about honesty in creativity to give it a whirl, nonetheless. I really fucking dig that. I do. Maybe because I suck so much at sucking at anything.

If I’m not immediately good at it, I will most likely throw it down and proclaim “This is stupid and a total and complete waste of my time.” Like I’m not even interested in it. Even if I am. Even if I really wish I were fucking great at it. Why would I do that? Fear. Fear of failure. Fear of sucking. It’s a really, really bad habit of mine. Another bad habit I have is being pretty fucking hard on myself. See, I used to be a songwriter. That was true a few years ago. It’s not true today. I have not written a song in many a month. I’ve not written a good song in many a year. There are two things, presumably, that I could do about this situation to turn it around. I could A) write some songs - shitty or not - if I really and truly wanted to be a songwriter again, or B) allow myself to stop feeling so fucking guilty for not WANTING to write songs at the moment. I’ve tried "A." And by “tried,” I mean that I’ve picked up my guitar a handful of times over the last few months and pretended that I wanted to play it. But, in all honesty, I don’t really have a burning in my soul to write a song. At the moment. That, perhaps, will change. I really hope that it does because I don't think that I sucked at writing songs once upon a time. But for now, I think I’ll just have to try B for a while. Seriously. Stop all this guilt bullshit and let myself off the hook. That doesn’t mean that I’m giving up altogether. That just means that I’m going to really try and forgive myself for being a different me today than I was five years ago. A metric shit-ton of events have occurred in the past five years. I think it’s pretty naive to pretend that I am the same girl now that I was before those events came to pass.

This is not a pity-party or a farewell to art. It’s just a simple act of forgiveness, to myself, from myself.

Dear me: I forgive you for not wanting to be a songwriter today. As a matter of fact, I forgive you for not knowing exactly what it is you want to be. If you want, you could simply just relax for a bit and enjoy other people's art. Read some books and watch some movies. It's okay to notcreate anything for a while. It doesn't mean you're a bad person. It just means you're resting. Also, I encourage you to be a different kind of writer if you want to be. Maybe you can write a short story or a novel. Or, if you’d like, I give you permission to become a painter instead. Even though you’ve never tried to paint, I urge you to give it a go - only if you want to - and I absolutely give you permission to suck at it, especially at first. You could also try cooking something new. I know you think you're a terrible cook, but it's only because you never really "do" it. You LOVE the Food Network. Give it a shot. It might be yummy, you never know... Also, NEVER stop believing in magic. It's real. Love, me. P.S. No matter what you decide to do, you are always allowed to fail. Always.

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Hendrix's drummer Mitchell dies

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The holidays are upon us. I know, I know - it's not even Thanksgiving yet. But you watch: turn around and it's here before you can say "Black Friday." I'm hoping this year will be filled more with actual quality time with family and friends, and less bullshit. I'm not a fan of the crazy Christmas shopping extravaganza that I always vow not to participate in, yet seem to get roped into year after year. This year, I'm hoping that everyone will take a few moments to decide whether or not all this consumerism really is in the true spirit of what the holiday season is supposed to be about. More than ever, I'm jazzed up for some cold weather and I'm ready to re-watch all my favorite Christmas cartoons. As usual, I'll be working through most of the holidays, but I'm really going to try and not let that stop me from enjoying the moments that I can. I don't know why I started thinking about all of this today of all days, but I did. So I wrote about it. So there.

Meanwhile, I cannot get this song out of my head.

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Okay, okay, I'll admit it. I was a crazed lunatic the last two weeks of the election. I screamed at the boy more frequently, and at a louder volume than I normally do. (Which means: while I'm normally just annoying and somewhat frightening, lately, I've been Freddy fucking Kruger.) Every comment, every movement, every noise irritated the absolute shit out of me. I was so stressed that I cried every. single. day. I thought it was just hormonal. It's ALWAYS f'ing hormonal. But this... this was hormonal plus anxiety plus fear plus health issues equals brain-go-boom-time-for-another-crying-jag-or-maybe-a-6-hour-nap.

What the fuck was wrong with me? Seriously. Why was I so wound up, so angry, so scared and unstable? Why was I an overly emotional loony?

Simple. Because I was convinced that the citizens of this country were going to prevent the change we so desperately need and crave and have clung to so fiercely these last months. The change so many people put their heart and souls into. The change that inspired even the most apathetic of Americans to make their voices heard. The change that forced people to care.

I thought about all the people - myself included - who were inspired by a glimmer of hope, yet too conditioned by the inexcusably lazy, yet comforting and familiar attitude of "I just don't want to fucking know about it anymore," to believe the hype. I was terrified. I just knew that another four years would go by without anyone doing a damn thing about any damn thing. AND, what's worse, we'd all be so fucking beat down by our loss that we would be more depressed and desperate than ever. Our tiny dreams crushed and abandoned; proof that there really isn't any point in giving a shit. About anything.

I thought about all the people - myself included - who previously gave about as little of a crap about my country and my government and what went on anywhere near where the "government people" do their "government-y things," as I gave a shit about what my neighbor ate for dinner. Basically, none at fucking all. Yeah, yeah, I complained a lot about W. But really, who didn't? That guy is a moron, a liar, and ... did I mention, um, moron? It was super easy to just sit around and deliberate about the man's faults because there were so. fucking. many. The guy was a super easy target, and frankly, now that I've seen Oliver Stone's movie about him, yeah, I do feel a little sorry for the guy. Just a little. He really did fuck up a LOT of stuff. Really. Like... no - REALLY. Still... he's human. And I'm straying from my point as I'm wont to do. My point is: THAT'S what passed for "being involved in politics." Talking about Bush's latest screw-up, or calling your boss "the decider" and laughing about it like you were so fucking knowledgeable about current events. Seriously. I'm talking about me here, folks. I DID THESE THINGS. And to me, those things passed as "being informed."

For fuck's sake, what a crock. BUT - and here's where I come sweeping back around to my point (again.) But NOW... well, NOW I really, truly do give a shit. I give a really big shit, actually. I want to understand. I want to know. I want to have opinions - real opinions - about things that are happening RIGHT NOW. (Fancy talkin' folks call those "current events.") I want to know more about ALL views on a particular subject, bill, law, crises. Like, why do these sort of people oppose it - why does this group feel so passionately about it's success? I'm not bullshitting. I really do. No foolin'.

I hope we all continue to give a shit. I hope that the promises made are promises kept. I hope that even those who were too afraid to believe any of this could be real or good or right can begin to hope again, too.

And I hope the boy forgives me for being an insufferable bitch since September. (Okay, okay, a MORE insufferable bitch. Whatevs.)

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I'm still reeling from Tuesday's excitement. It won't be quick, and it won't be easy, but change is coming. Believe.

http://change.gov

It's been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will
-Sam Cooke

P.S. To my red friends and family: I love you.

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Are you fucking kidding me?  Really?  Fucking priorities.

The Caucus Blog - NYTimes.com

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