I’m sitting here with a celebratory glass of whiskey like I deserve it for the sole attainment of the minute task of feeling inspired to sit down and write. If you’re not a writer you probably don’t understand writer’s block, and how it builds up inside of you as you hold a million words and look around for a vehicle in which to transport them but you can’t. Your metaphorical car has broken down; it chugs along the dirt road, helplessly farting into the wind.
My girlfriend called me as she left the grocery store to ask if I needed anything on her way home. I had given her my request for vegan sour cream and French bread five minutes earlier and was slightly annoyed as to why she was calling again. In context of that night’s dinner, those two items made sense, but instead of explaining why – I’ll instead leave you with the perturbing visual of me slathering sour cream on a baguette and eating it slowly and seductively. I see now why she was calling and it was because she knows me. “I don’t need anything!” I would say.
Five minutes later I would decide I wanted libations, and exactly two minutes later she would walk in the door. I grabbed her jacket, basically off of her body, and had the politeness to ask: “Whiskey or Wine?” on my way out. “I don’t care,” she said, “I’m good.” I paused “C’mon babe, have an opinion because then it doesn’t seem like I have a problem.” I was kidding, but she looked at me sweetly and said: “It’s a want, not a need. Go get what you want.”
I strutted into the Liquor store in my sweatpants and flannel and the air of a thirty something who just doesn’t give a shit. ‘Complicated’ by Avril Levigne was blaring over the speakers and I was perplexed at both what Spotify vibe the DABC employees were going for, and also if I’d entered a bizarro world where it was 2002. Nonetheless I slicked back a strand of my unwashed hair, and returned home with my prize.
I sat and stared at that glass of whiskey, victorious and comparing myself to the likes of Ernest Hemingway. He liked the sauce, and won a Nobel Prize in Literature. Granted things didn’t turn out great for him in the end, but surely I could avoid that fate because I don’t agree with the Second Amendment and if I had a gun, I wouldn’t even know how to use it.
The weather turned quite quickly in Utah, as it does. People here like to call the season between summer and winter “fall”, but I’m no fool. To be fair the leaves did turn and give us a decent show this year, but typically it’s a one-weekend swan song and suddenly we’re all in a snow globe. I’m not complaining, I obviously love living here otherwise I wouldn’t have called it home the last decade. However, growing up on the East Coast gives me the unfair advantage of understanding four seasons and what that actually looks like. I could go on about the slow transgressions of autumn and all the basic bitches in Connecticut with their Ugg boots and Pumpkin Spice Lattes but that would be trite and overdone. You know, I know, we all know, and can move on.
We found ourselves going for what deemed itself to be a chilly bike ride this past weekend and I was concerned. Not for the ominous weather I was about to meet on two wheels, but for the sanctity and comfort of my Chihuahua, Nora Jones. “Should I find something warm for Nora?” I asked Bridie. It was the first time I had to consider such a thing; I’d bought her some very chic sunglasses for the warmer weather and my sights were more set on the dichotomy of function and fashion and how ridiculously adorable she’d looked in those the last few months, rather than being practical.
I opted for the most insulated sweater she owned, Star Wars themed, even coming with a hood sporting Yoda ears. The force is strong with this one, I thought as I shimmied her shades over the bridge of her snout. In that moment, with my small dog strapped to my back in her K9 Sports Sack, her doggles in place, and celestial jumper on – I had an epiphany. “BABY I’VE PEAKED!” I yelled up the stairs to wherever my girlfriend was, surely doing something more productive than looking at herself in a mirror with a canine on her person. “I’ve heard that before!” she kindly shouted back down.
I meant it though – I’ve peaked because I’ve realized I’m never going to peak at all. When I think about all of the things I am consistently watching people do – get married, buy a house, have kids, et. al – I’m never going to do that. Because I don’t want to. When I think about childhood and envisioning what my life would look like, I honestly never saw anything. Some may call that sad, or unambitious, but I call it a lot of people’s reality and fucking foresight. I never saw my life with anything but me in it. If that’s the case, I’m right where I need to be. Because I am still here and thriving and growing, and experiencing life as it comes at me.
I used to think maybe I was slated to die young since I could never see anything ahead of me. I now realize that I was just given another path, that didn’t look like a lot of peoples, and that was okay. There is peace in not peaking, and I believe it was actually foretold by some wise Buddhist Monk somewhere. I can’t tell you who said it, where, or when – but I’m sure it happened. Bridie is patient and kind, and puts up with the kind of crazy that can best be described as a combination of Liz Lemon and a very soft-core version of ‘Girl Interrupted.’ We’re saving up for a trailer to live in; something that would make me very proud and my Mother assume I was homeless and had no other option.
I think I’ve always know somewhere deep down that I wasn’t meant to live the kind of life other people live. That I would feel things they don’t feel, that my trail may have not been walked down prior to me showing up clueless with a Chihuahua in tow. Also, how did I end up with a Chihuahua? Through times of doubt and distress, sitting with someone I love after more failed relationships I can count – I’m here, and somehow still breathing and wanting after so many failures. I have no doubt in myself, and my glass of whiskey, that this is some kind of ride…but it’s turning out to be life going absolutely perfectly.