Checking in
Listen. I always want to start with "listen" so it's like I'm coming in right in the middle and this is a conversation we've been having, have had, will keep having. I've already got you but it can't hurt to hook my finger in a belt loop, pull you closer, and keep you engaged. Listen, this has been a year to talk about and I've barely said anything.
Last year I said
Next year I'll buy a car not much better than my current car, but newer, and I'll give my old one to my brother who is a salesman on commission and is never nervous. I'll play tennis more, and continue my current loose diet of not eating fast food, and packing bagged lunch for work. Maybe I'll be inspired and work at losing the stone I gained working and going to school. If my luck and work ethic holds I'll finally have my Associates degree this semester's end, at which point I can immediately begin the next level of schooling.
I'll go to the dentist. I'll drink more. I'll read more and more and more. I'll have my fake nails dissolved and begin the process of nursing my feeble nails. I'll learn to play the piano properly. I'll write a story or a poem and I'll show somebody. I'll write thank-you notes and letters. I'll use all the apps I've bought on my phone to take pictures of everyone I know and frame them up. I'll read more journals than two. I'll kiss somebody who likes me and who I'll still like after. I'll save up a few thousand dollars in case some big 4-year college will take me and I'll have to move myself out of my comfort zone to get there. I'll look back at this list next January and have things to cross off and things to add that I would never think now to want or aspire to. I'll probably win the Mega Millions tomorrow night.
I didn't set out to achieve any goals at all. This list was forgotten as soon as it was posted as we all knew it must be. Still there are adjustments to be made.
I didn't buy a car. My old Mercury took me a thousand miles. We were both ill at the end of it but I've patched us back up. My brother has a car and two jobs, and when I came home for Christmas he was saying, "You're so lazy. Get a job. Why can't you have two jobs like I do?" I'm so proud of him. I don't eat fast food anymore but I haven't lost weight. I'm weak and soft from not working but my calves are still tight. I'm thinking of yoga, but maybe only because it's my headcanon that a fictional character does it. Tennis lost its shine without an instructor to encourage me too much and clean the ice off my car after classes. There is no ice here anyway. Last year leaving the state wasn't on my list because I didn't feel it possible but here I am wearing capris. My calves are goose pimply in the 63 degrees.
An Associate's degree is halfway to a Bachelor's but it feels like I've got four more years ahead of me. I didn't walk. My degree was forwarded to that flat in Mobile, and we took a picture to send to my grandmother. I told my mother that would have to do.
I've had my teeth cleaned and fillings painfully filled. I've been nicely drunk but I haven't kissed one person. I never know if people like me anyway. I've read and read and read. I didn't write any letters or notes but I will and I am. I received the best letter I've ever had and the return address header was "Love of your Life". I didn't win the lottery and there isn't one at all in this state.
My great-uncle John, my godfather's father, died. Prostate cancer. David called me and I said I'd like to hug you (I love you) I don't know what to say (I love you) you ought to buy a camera and record your face, your voice because when you're dead your daughter will want that (I'm sorry). He told me to call him back in 3 months when he wants rational and cold and just say, buy a camera. I looked and looked for a clip of his father's voice but in every video he is too far away to be heard over my own. His face is clear in the background of every zoom to David, David's daughter, David's friends. My great-uncle John is so quiet in my head, defined by everyone else who loved him. Listen I don't know anything about him except that he was well-educated and liked to tend the yard and one time I think I sat on his deck and watched him walk across the grass, down the dock, and drop heavy into the water with his clothes on.
Next year will be a bumper year, with nothing to do but get a job and stay in school and read and read and read more. This year's list, written on the last day of last year while sat on a plane I was convinced would not land, reflects that.
Last year I said
Next year I'll buy a car not much better than my current car, but newer, and I'll give my old one to my brother who is a salesman on commission and is never nervous. I'll play tennis more, and continue my current loose diet of not eating fast food, and packing bagged lunch for work. Maybe I'll be inspired and work at losing the stone I gained working and going to school. If my luck and work ethic holds I'll finally have my Associates degree this semester's end, at which point I can immediately begin the next level of schooling.
I'll go to the dentist. I'll drink more. I'll read more and more and more. I'll have my fake nails dissolved and begin the process of nursing my feeble nails. I'll learn to play the piano properly. I'll write a story or a poem and I'll show somebody. I'll write thank-you notes and letters. I'll use all the apps I've bought on my phone to take pictures of everyone I know and frame them up. I'll read more journals than two. I'll kiss somebody who likes me and who I'll still like after. I'll save up a few thousand dollars in case some big 4-year college will take me and I'll have to move myself out of my comfort zone to get there. I'll look back at this list next January and have things to cross off and things to add that I would never think now to want or aspire to. I'll probably win the Mega Millions tomorrow night.
I didn't set out to achieve any goals at all. This list was forgotten as soon as it was posted as we all knew it must be. Still there are adjustments to be made.
I didn't buy a car. My old Mercury took me a thousand miles. We were both ill at the end of it but I've patched us back up. My brother has a car and two jobs, and when I came home for Christmas he was saying, "You're so lazy. Get a job. Why can't you have two jobs like I do?" I'm so proud of him. I don't eat fast food anymore but I haven't lost weight. I'm weak and soft from not working but my calves are still tight. I'm thinking of yoga, but maybe only because it's my headcanon that a fictional character does it. Tennis lost its shine without an instructor to encourage me too much and clean the ice off my car after classes. There is no ice here anyway. Last year leaving the state wasn't on my list because I didn't feel it possible but here I am wearing capris. My calves are goose pimply in the 63 degrees.
An Associate's degree is halfway to a Bachelor's but it feels like I've got four more years ahead of me. I didn't walk. My degree was forwarded to that flat in Mobile, and we took a picture to send to my grandmother. I told my mother that would have to do.
I've had my teeth cleaned and fillings painfully filled. I've been nicely drunk but I haven't kissed one person. I never know if people like me anyway. I've read and read and read. I didn't write any letters or notes but I will and I am. I received the best letter I've ever had and the return address header was "Love of your Life". I didn't win the lottery and there isn't one at all in this state.
My great-uncle John, my godfather's father, died. Prostate cancer. David called me and I said I'd like to hug you (I love you) I don't know what to say (I love you) you ought to buy a camera and record your face, your voice because when you're dead your daughter will want that (I'm sorry). He told me to call him back in 3 months when he wants rational and cold and just say, buy a camera. I looked and looked for a clip of his father's voice but in every video he is too far away to be heard over my own. His face is clear in the background of every zoom to David, David's daughter, David's friends. My great-uncle John is so quiet in my head, defined by everyone else who loved him. Listen I don't know anything about him except that he was well-educated and liked to tend the yard and one time I think I sat on his deck and watched him walk across the grass, down the dock, and drop heavy into the water with his clothes on.
Next year will be a bumper year, with nothing to do but get a job and stay in school and read and read and read more. This year's list, written on the last day of last year while sat on a plane I was convinced would not land, reflects that.