Regrets, I’ve Had Too Few
Honestly? I’ve just been waiting for the holiday season to be over. I can’t enjoy it knowing other people don’t, that it’s hard on the depressed among us, who are near and dear this year.
Near, dear, year.
So about this fiscal cliff deal, why is it so important to spare the middle-class a tax increase? Cripes, suck it up, middle-class Americans. You’re the bulk of the population – SOMEBODY voted for tax cuts and wars all those years.
Don’t make me come down there.
My resolution, by the way, is to write one anecdote per day. And yes, I’m back to square one, thanks for asking. I got carried away, writing too much, so tomorrow I’m going to start fresh, again.
One anecdote, one page, one day.
It will require a discipline I haven’t tapped into thus far. I write kind of like how I ski, faster and faster until I’m careening out of control. If I had an organized mind I could do something with all the words, but I don’t have an organized mind, I have a mind full of swirly doodads and sunshine, lollipops and rainbows, everything that’s wonderful is what I feel when we’re together, brighter than a lucky penny, when you’re near the rain cloud disappears, dear, and I feel so fine just to know that you are mine.
Anyway, another resolution is to let life happen, let lives happen, and put more into doing less.
Yes, that’s right. I plan to spend more time and energy doing less work.
No more bettering myself, I’m good enough, this is it, done. Cripes, if I lived at any other time in history I’d be dead already. So I’m just going to stay the course, coast on my amazing looks and magnetic charm, and screw any more courses/training/learning.
I’m growing my hair long and letting it go grey, but I think I’ll start using the straightening iron my daughter gave me. I’m aiming for hippie chic. I’m down to just lip stain from The Body Shop. I think I’ve stopped buying clothes, although I may nip into the thrift shop now and again.
I’m going to cook more and eat out less, although I’m going to do as much as I want, whenever I want, too, including drinking wine or beer and smoking pot.
It’s all good though because I’m suddenly the Queen of Moderation now. Seriously. I think it’s because I like calling it a day and going up to bed.
My new rule is to save twitter for when I’m under the influence. I know that doesn’t sound like a good idea, but here’s the thing, it’s twitter, so nobody else cares what you tweet.
Twitter is short for “Let’s Go Crazy About Something And All Talk At Once!”
Listen up all you kids out there, stay online, keep posting. All that information cancels itself out. It’s literally TMI, so don’t worry about it. You don’t want to work for an employer who would bother to wade through it all to find the picture of you mooning your buddy with a banana sticking out of your ass anyway. They’re just looking for an excuse not to hire you.
Do it for Vic Toews.
No more arguing about politics, no more discussions about politics. I’m done feeding the beast.
Instead, I’m going to pay more attention to strangers, stay in closer touch with friends and family, and treat everybody with respect.
Except for Rogers, which is beyond ridiculous. Why am I still a customer? Suggestions, please. And possibly Koodo, which is suddenly stupidly expensive. Really, I’m just not going to talk on the phone anymore at all. I’ll fly Porter to visit my mother in the Sault. She can’t really hear me anyway. Cell phones have terrible reception. What a stupid invention. But Bell was just a blood sucker of a land line provider, wasn’t it.
Fukking Bell cockburgers. They ruined everything.
Having said that, I’m going to pay what it costs in the coming year, and stop worrying about money. No more bargain-hunting, no more skin-flinting, it I want it, I’m buying it.
Finally, I’m going to do my damnedest to be rational and reasonable and forgive myself all my trespasses.
So here’s to 2013.