I did some things pretty poorly last year, and some sad shit was done to me in turn. I’m lucky though that I have some real stand-up women in my life. My mom, the doctor at the abortion clinic where I worked, and a handful of friends I can talk to about anything about from Marquez to masturbation. Either Nikki or Amanda came up with this idea of “making it nice around the tree” which we say a lot now but haven’t really explained so I’m going to do it now because it has a lot to do with the only resolution I really made. You know how when you sleep with someone (or mess around with someone or make out with them in the bathroom and then forget about it) and instead of falling madly in love you’re just met with a deadpan sort of silence? Then there’s that windfall of awkwardness and you and your sort of maybe partner avoid each other at the bar or make weird eye contact at a show and you sort of tap you’re foot impatiently and you say, alright, enough of this and you go up and say hello and some jokes are made and then you’re laughing and you’re friends again or maybe for the first time? THAT’s making it nice around the tree, and after that you can either keep being friends again or for the first time or maybe you end up sleeping together again. Either way it doesn’t fucking matter if you’re CONSENTING ADULTS (we are exclusively interested in OUR OWN TREES unlike the guy who cornered me at the Atlantic and asked me, specifically, which of his friends I wasn't sleeping with). And that’s nice, when you get to smooth out the awkwardness and keep being friends with people and even though it’s messy and sometimes complicated it’s mostly good. However sometimes, the tree is REAL fucked up. Like you really hurt the trees feelings and wrote them some letters and then you blew them off again and the tree is pretty much far away forever. When a small awkward moment (or just shitty, terrible moment) stretched on indefinetly and suddenly someone you used to talk to all the time not only doesn’t feel like your friend but maybe even someone who really, really despises you (or more than likely doesn’t think about you at all, ever). Well one of those other really smart women in my life told me around my birthday (late November) that making new years resolutions is really silly. Adding on more baggage and more stuff to feel bad about later doesn’t make any sense. Instead it’s better to spend the end of the year forgiving other people for the things you might still be holding against them, and also it’s a good time to forgive yourself for the things you weren’t able to get done (or in my case even started really). It might sound VERY trite to some people but it made me feel a lot better, especially about some real sad feelings I had about myself. I realized that the holidays, in this whole other sense, are about “making it nice around the tree.” I used some time to connect with old friends and let some other shit go, and also with the intention (this year) of not letting little awkward moments stretch out to the point where anyone I care about gets out of reach of communication. I know other people are often terrible. It’s all just like all the other stories sometimes, always so trite and easy to predict. But then after that, when the next chapter starts, it’s so wonderfully, tremendously good.
“The useless days will amount to something.”**
I always wanted to be on the Real World. I remember turning 24 and being deeply disappointed in myself for not ever trying to do it. What an easy way to just be showered in love and attention forever and ever? What an awful, awful idea; I realize now. I think I know now the cut off point in age is because people in their early 20s are so sure of everything. Myself included, of course, anyone who’s ever been 19 or 20 just knows that they’re the best writer or artist or football player or whatever it is that they like about themselves, and then that gets sort of hammered and chipped away at everyday until they eventually get to this point where they realize they’ve been totally wrong, for a long time. Even now the things I think I’m good at, that I really like myself, are the same things that embarrass me about myself when I meet people or think of people who are really, really good at them. Can you imagine a Real World set up with a bunch of creative, smart people in their late 20s? I only use that because it’s how I feel but maybe it stretched out a lot later than this (oh boy!). I can just imagine my testimonials, “well I really thought I was right about this intangible theory of feminism but now...I’m just not so sure...so-and-so really knows a lot more than me and they brought up this really important point about....” and cut the scene where I’m just staring at empty pages for hours, and then drinking, lots of drinking still. It would be a great show. Terribly, wonderfully funny and very depressing and often pathetic. The show might actually exist, and I may have been living it.
I’m finally not so terribly afraid at failing. I’ve done it. I’ve been failing. It just doesn’t seem so bad anymore. It's still ok if I take some mediocre photography, at least I'm doing stuff. I can even write some only "alright" poetry, but at least I'll be writing. I'm even going to apply to graduate schools again, because I've stopped memorizing that other rejection letter. MRR liked our 7"? Great, we're going to make another one! I feel much less distracted by all the terrible possible outcomes and much more excited about doing everything, more, and more fully. If you’ve been feeling really awful about yourself I really recommend reading Beautiful Tiny Things by Cheryl Strayed. I read the book right after the new year clocked in and it really reminded me to stop feeling sorry for myself and, I quote, “write like a motherfucker” among other things. It’s the perfect book for anyone who’s been wallowing, or just stuck, or anyone really. Thanks to all the wonderful women in my book club for recommending it to me.
*The Adventures and Misadventures of Maqroll, Alvaro Mutis
**Beautiful Tiny Things, Cheryl Strayed
