|This is a taxidermy coyote in a rain slicker. Like you do.|
So, for some reason blogger wouldn't let me post this last week, because it's seen the title of this blog and decided to contribute to my continuing pain and sorrow. Like blogging platforms do. But enough about that, happy 2012, people! Assuming the Mayan calender is wrong (I mean, can we really trust people who could figure out about chocolate but NOT about adding sugar? That's like inventing paper and then being like, this will be perfect for clothing!) I think this is going to be a great (strugglesome) year and that the world will not (possibly) be ending. Why, you ask? Well, honestly, at lot of that has to do with the fact that I've gotten really into some new TV shows and looking forward to them is pretty much the only thing that keeps me going. I kid. Do I? Yes (no).
But most of it has to do with my new mantra, which I straight up stole from my friend Kate (thanks Kate!). It's, "Let things go, or you will be dragged". It's simple, it's effective, and I have pretty much a 1% chance of keeping it. I am just not a person who can let things go. For example, last year around this time I was having a conversation with someone and I brought up Fredrick Jackson Turner's Frontier Thesis from the 1893 Chicago Worlds Fair (like you do, over drinks, you know) and he (the person, not Turner) was like, yeah, but that was over 200 years ago. And I was like, I feel strongly that that is incorrect, but I didn't say anything, I just internally cringed. AND I'M STILL CRINGING. Somewhere that knowledge lives inside of me, and if I might be perfectly candid, from that point on I've always thought less of that person (again, the guy, not Turner). These things LIVE inside of me, somewhere, grating against my nerves like a spoon playing a washboard in a hillbillie band. I am, on many levels, the Vendetta Kid.
And obviously this is not a particularly healthy way to live your life. In theory I truly believe that if you just breathe and give in to the universe, good things will happen. I've just never actually be able to do that. Instead I write bible-length emails about the 1893 Worlds Fair which, and this is very VERY important, NEVER GET SENT. It is the only way I've managed to avoid being tarred and feathered by angry villagers. So when I have a strugglesome vendetta I just spew all of that out into a notebook or an email or a handy google document and then there we go. Oh, don't mistake me, I still have black-out moments of mindless rage and fury over an insult I received a good 10 years ago, but it's lessened, somehow, by the knowledge that somewhere out there is a 14 year old's notebook with a well crafted scathing response to "Dude, your sister has more underarm hair then I do" (I was 14! And I wasn't aloud to shave yet! God, what a JERK!).
Still. Someday, when future generations find said notebooks and google docs, no doubt they will publish them like the brilliant pieces of personal petty grievances they are. In which case, Cosi salad guy who put blue cheese on my Greek salad instead of feta because you want to make me CRY, you will finally get what's coming to you.
Yeah. I'm totally going to get dragged, aren't I. 2012. Already a great year.