So, here’s the thing…this year I’m making NO resolutions. Why? ‘Cause every time I-do, I break ’em. (Read that in southern and you’ll laugh)
i.e. I tried to psych myself out and make an end of the year resolution that would just carry over to this year, it was fairly easy, one that said I would blog every day. Totally attempted to for three days. Went strong. Rocked. Day four? It all went to pot. Not the drugs, stupid. That’s a saying from the ultra southern (read country) women in my family.
So yeah, no resolutions. Why? Because I’m tired of lying to myself and I’m tired of silly internal failures.
I take those things to heart.
This year, I win life. No resolutions. No failures.
Only took me thirty-two years but I got it. Got it good, too. And with no hands. Damn right, I did. Thanks. (Insert sassy head nod and long eye-blink)
I get the whole new-skin of it. New year. New chances. Different outcomes. Etcetera, Etcetera.
Sidebar: Listen, was that a little pretentious of me to spell it out? Yes. Who cares.
Anyhoooo, like I said I get it. I get that we all revel in the chance to start over, but here’s the thing, do we really ever start over? Do we really ever completely begin again? You know, brand spanking new? I do NOT think so. Unless one of you bastards have crawled back into the uterus and demanded a do over, let’s move along. So yeah, no, no starting over. We can try again, yes. We’re always welcomed to try again, give it another shot, whatever “it” may be. And I will, I will continue to try until there’s no tries left.
i.e. If like I’m on world 8-4 or 8 and that’s the last world in the game (read life) and Jesus is all like, “Well, you didn’t slay the dragon, so you’re done now.” (Read that in a sanctimonious Jesus voice and you’ll laugh and get it) then I guess all my tries are over. I imagine I’ll be okay with that. But then, satisfied is something that I’m no longer willing to be or accept so I also imagine that there will be some sort of Jesus-Me debate…not saying that I’m going to win, but like for real, I think I could give it a good go. Is this sacrilegious, smite-worthy, and/or blasphemous? Yes. You sure? Yikes. *commences to rectify*
Side bar: Jesus, listen, I’m a writer, I’m colorful. No harm, no foul. K? Thanks…oh yeah and Amen. *looks around for determined lightening rods”
No resolutions was what we were talking about, right? Yes. Good.
So yeah, no resolutions, only a very resolute promise to myself to continue to try. After all, that’s all we can ever do…right? (I think you get it.)
Happy New Year!
Vive Sine Paenitentia
Res Ipsa Loquitur.
Note: Refer to the unedited part of this blog.
Note again: Soon I’ll stop giving a damn and let you correct me all willy nilly, you pretentious, good spelling, grammar having, no-editor-needing, no-proofreader-needing, snobs.
Note again, again: And I’ll still love you just the same.
this is how you set a table for dinner; this is how you set a table for dinner with an important guest; this is how you set a table for lunch; this is how you set a table for breakfast; this is how to behave in the presence of men who don’t know you very well, and this way they won’t recognize immediately the slut I have warned you against becoming; be sure to wash every day, even if it is with your own spit; don’t squat down to play marbles—you are not a boy, you know— don’t pick people’s flowers, you might catch something; don’t throw stones at blackbirds, because it might not be a blackbird at all…
– Girl, Jamaica Kincaid
Like the little girl in this poem/story, I was warned. I was warned of a lot of things. I was told not to do a lot of things, and I listened to most of them. Most of them I didn’t. I have suffered the consequences of my actions, and I blame not a soul because of it. However, I’m learning in this process of…growth (I guess we’ll call it that) is that though you’re in a new space, in a new vibe, in a new feel, the person(s) that you wronged, or didn’t help, or lied to, or didn’t believe, or didn’t want, or didn’t love, may not be there and you simply can’t right that wrong. Even if it was a wrong you’ve done to yourself. Most of the time people that want to gloss over facts, rearrange history, make themselves feel, better tend to not want to hash up the past. Well, that’s exactly what I want to do, I’d like to go back and tell the old me that I’m sorry, I’d like to tell some of you that I’ve hurt, inadvertently and advertently, that I’m sorry and I’d like to fix a few hearts that I somehow managed to break, but I can’t. However, if my world was perfect, if my life was perfect, if things were just, I’d start off by saying the following:
I apologize for leading you to believe something that wasn’t true. I apologize for leaving you when you needed me the most, I apologize for not understanding you, I apologize that I really don’t mean any of this.
You heard me.
I don’t believe any of it.
To go back and right a wrong means that you get to rearrange history, and I know we’ve all seen the movies or cartoons or stories what-have-you about changing one minor fact and it possible rearranging your whole life.
I believe that to be true!
I believe that every heart I broke, every person that I hurt, and every person that has hurt me and broken my heart has helped shaped me into the character that I’ll become. And like the girl that Ms. Kincaid so avidly illustrated, I’m inclined to believe that there was a good part of the “Warner” that knew she (the girl) would do the things warned against and while I don’t have literary proof, I’m willing to bet it made her a pretty special little lady…I’d bet the farm, and so, I choose, with all of my might to dismiss all warnings now, and just be. The ones that I thought I listened to, I now renounce them and the ones that I know I didn’t listen to, I’m thankful. And I am forever grateful and you should be too! I’m so damned excited to get to this next chapter in my life that I don’t know what to do, because as a hopeful fiction and romance “penista” (Yeah, damn it, that’s a word…MY word. DON’T steal it) I’m conditioned to believe in happily ever-after endings and once upon a time beginnings. The first chapter of my tale started out perfect. There was drama, lust, lies, deception, peace, good sex, bad sex, all the stuff that Mrs. Ellis, my 9th grade English Teacher, said made for good foreshadowing. And I gotta say, I can’t wait to see what’s next. Stay tuned…
Vive sine paenitentia!
Res Ipsa Loquitur