I have a deal to keep
I stopped writing on this thing mostly. I dunno. It's not that I have a problem with folk who write blogs, I just have begun to feel that my life isn't as enthralling as it used to seem. And I have enough character flaws that I don't want to enlarge the egocentric one as well. Part of me thinks that early-twenties Emily was self centered and delusional. But part of me thinks that any early-twenties person has to do that just to get themselves figured out and straightened out after all that teenage hormonal nonsense.
I turn 27 today. Funny story that - I thought I was already 27! I've been giving that as my age for some time, and I'm not sure when I skipped a year or for how long this has been going. Is it just some time since my last birthday? Have I been doing it for the last couple? Heaven knows I quit caring after 21, and probably won't really pay attention to the number again until 30. I was doing some idle counting in my head while filling in my birth year on some paperwork and was astonished to discover I was only 26. It's not often you feel like you've lost a whole year in a blink. So tonight I'm turning 27 instead of 28. Not that it matters except as proof positive that dying your hair blond has the same effect as being born with it. Thank goodness I've gone back to my roots.
I was touched almost to tears by the "birthday wall" on facebook. It's nonsense, and I'm glad Lan is already asleep so I can be a fool in private. I think one of the most lasting fears in my life is being forgotten. I'm not sure why it matters. Cosmically, if I personally am remembered is not nearly as important as say, the actual ripples and effects that I send out, and I certainly don't need royalties or credit. But it's relief and gratitude that makes me tear up.
I try every day to remember how linked everyone is and how one ugly attitude at the counter could ruin someone else's entire day, how responsible we all are for each other, and how responsible we are for our own responses. Yet somehow I've become disconnected nonetheless. Most of my wall, and even most of my friends, are my beloved Louisianians. I've been in Texas for four years now. That's how many years I spent in LA. Why is everything so different here? How have I changed?
I blame this mostly on responsible behavior. Early-twenties Em had very little to be responsible about. Basic bills and schoolwork, yes, but on no one's schedule but her own. If I wanted to spend the whole day at a coffee shop taking care of bills and schoolwork while networking simultaneously, it happened. If someone called about a party after Sundown, heck if I heard about it after I was already at Sundown, I just wandered that way next. Dancing-much-closer-to-thirty Emily can do no such thing. My day is full and regulated from the time I wake up to the time I go to sleep. Damn.
The greatest illicit drug and strongest temptation to me these days is to run away. I never have, and have no intention of ever doing so, because that one hit would be the start of a terrible addiction. I know a girl, my own breathing cautionary tale, that became trapped in that and now leaves child and husband whenever she feels to "smothered" and disappears until she feels "centered" again. Hardly centering for the family. And it's tempting. Oh it's tempting. I want nothing more than to hop in the car, drive back home, and sit in old coffee shops and bars and smell and smile and remember and come home with a new tattoo. But I don't really think it works like that. And I think that old home is mostly in my head now anyway. So I might as well sit here and smile and remember it in my head anyway. Saves gas. Man am I responsible.
Still, I'm not sad. The wall is full of other people who remember. No one's forgotten yet.
I turn 27 today. Funny story that - I thought I was already 27! I've been giving that as my age for some time, and I'm not sure when I skipped a year or for how long this has been going. Is it just some time since my last birthday? Have I been doing it for the last couple? Heaven knows I quit caring after 21, and probably won't really pay attention to the number again until 30. I was doing some idle counting in my head while filling in my birth year on some paperwork and was astonished to discover I was only 26. It's not often you feel like you've lost a whole year in a blink. So tonight I'm turning 27 instead of 28. Not that it matters except as proof positive that dying your hair blond has the same effect as being born with it. Thank goodness I've gone back to my roots.
I was touched almost to tears by the "birthday wall" on facebook. It's nonsense, and I'm glad Lan is already asleep so I can be a fool in private. I think one of the most lasting fears in my life is being forgotten. I'm not sure why it matters. Cosmically, if I personally am remembered is not nearly as important as say, the actual ripples and effects that I send out, and I certainly don't need royalties or credit. But it's relief and gratitude that makes me tear up.
I try every day to remember how linked everyone is and how one ugly attitude at the counter could ruin someone else's entire day, how responsible we all are for each other, and how responsible we are for our own responses. Yet somehow I've become disconnected nonetheless. Most of my wall, and even most of my friends, are my beloved Louisianians. I've been in Texas for four years now. That's how many years I spent in LA. Why is everything so different here? How have I changed?
I blame this mostly on responsible behavior. Early-twenties Em had very little to be responsible about. Basic bills and schoolwork, yes, but on no one's schedule but her own. If I wanted to spend the whole day at a coffee shop taking care of bills and schoolwork while networking simultaneously, it happened. If someone called about a party after Sundown, heck if I heard about it after I was already at Sundown, I just wandered that way next. Dancing-much-closer-to-thirty Emily can do no such thing. My day is full and regulated from the time I wake up to the time I go to sleep. Damn.
The greatest illicit drug and strongest temptation to me these days is to run away. I never have, and have no intention of ever doing so, because that one hit would be the start of a terrible addiction. I know a girl, my own breathing cautionary tale, that became trapped in that and now leaves child and husband whenever she feels to "smothered" and disappears until she feels "centered" again. Hardly centering for the family. And it's tempting. Oh it's tempting. I want nothing more than to hop in the car, drive back home, and sit in old coffee shops and bars and smell and smile and remember and come home with a new tattoo. But I don't really think it works like that. And I think that old home is mostly in my head now anyway. So I might as well sit here and smile and remember it in my head anyway. Saves gas. Man am I responsible.
Still, I'm not sad. The wall is full of other people who remember. No one's forgotten yet.