Go to the ocean
- Get a room with a view
- Eat fish and chips, mac and cheese, or whatever your favourite comfort food is for breakfast.
- Drink vodka, whiskey, red wine.
- Wear “too much” or “too little” make-up.
- Read Big Magic; choose to abide by it (or at least try really hard).
- Start a bucket list.
- Write a letter.
- Take a long bath in the afternoon with a coffee-grind mask that stains the white bathmat and will make the housekeepers wonder.
- When you are tired, pass out to the dulcet tones of British TV shows about antiques.
- Remember your Old Life—then let it go.
- But check in with the people you love back there, in your Old Life. Don’t let them go.
- Know you absolutely can do it in a new way. Then cry, because half the time you don’t believe this, really.
- Do yoga despite the heartburn, with a focus on the hips.
- Watch TV—but not for more than an hour at a time.
- Smile at the old people playing bridge in the lobby of the antiquated hotel, and at the mob of red-faced, navy-blazered Old Boys’ club that gathered around the bar one evening, all bald-headed and jovial.
- Smile at the kids playing in the sand, chasing the seagulls…until the mother pulls out bread bits to feed to the seagulls (please don’t feed the birds).
- Smile at the arthritic and slightly wet black lab trying to nose into your medoicre-at-best breakfast fish and chips.
- Re-do your website.
- Share a story in the secret women’s-only Facebook group.
- Decide to pug sit in Hollywood over Christmas.
- Wonder how one person could possibly be so content.
- Wonder how one person could possibly feel so distant from those that she loves.
- Go to the aquarium and simultaneously marvel while dipping into a concrete sort of sadness; you want to be with these creatures, but (mostly) not like this.
- Take the French lessons you’ve been meaning to take for 2 years.
- Practice finishing what you started.
- Take a social media/job-search break for 12 hours to read Beautiful Losers and write.
- Tell stories about the time you saw a giant tortoise eat it’s own…well, maybe not. It was more the reaction of the other observers that was priceless.
- Forget about how the much-younger-but-still-cold-and-overly-formal bartender kept calling you “Ma’am.”
- Enjoy the shit out of the complementary tea, custard creams, gingerbread and shortbread that sits waiting in every hotel room there, ’cause they just don’t do that at home.
- Don’t worry that you were 2 hours away from Stonehenge with a completely open schedule but still didn’t go and see it. You will be back soon enough.
- Turn everything off and just read.
- Colour with the window open, sitting on the floor, watching the sunset, with the sea breeze cooling your wine-warmed face.
- Wonder (stop wondering) why you can’t seem to be in love with the right person, ever.
- Find a new rhythm.
- Eat fruit slowly.
- Devote yourself to living by the sea in a more permanent way.
- Don’t let the cheapness of the combed sand or the too-small aquarium tanks or pier toll sway you from just visiting places like kitchy, old-timey beach towns. Those are really the best, anyhow.
Last night I had one of those “how long will it take them to notice I’m gone” moments.
Originally I had just gone to the bar to get a drink, but the barstaff didn’t see me either.
So, a little too drunk for a Thursday, I pulled an Irish goodbye. I walked up the street and got the best steamie in the world and walked home holding back tears and wondering why in the hell at nearly 37 years old I can still feel so small.
I wondered if some of my relationships seemed easy because there aren’t really deep feelings on the other person’s part.
I wondered if I’m worth feeling for.
I was in love with them and they didn’t really love me back. So now I’m not in love with them anymore.
I’m also far away from many people I love(d). That distance creates another kind of wall, and I’m pretty sure that it’s better this way.
Some people said they loved me and so I told them I loved them too. Then I would visit and be close and some of them didn’t really step up to be with me when I showed up. I mean be with me in a real way.
Not a sexy way, but a real way.
It made me feel confused and sad.
I’m really good at removing myself, but this isn’t something I’m proud of.
I’m really not good at being seen and heard—also not something I’m proud of.
Even hanging out with a best friend, I can cease to exist at the blink of an eye—or in this case, the shake of an ass.
I should have just kept sitting in this park.
Well that was interesting.
2014 and 2013, I meant, were interesting. Each so different and strange and wonderful and hard in their own ways.
Even though I feel like I look like I’m about 80 years old these days, I feel good 2015.
It started out with a bang—a small house party where I felt I bonded with a new friend from here (I’d just published her article that day too) and an old friend from Vancouver. That feeling of closeness is such a relief. And it didn’t take too long to build, with these two. And there are more people to get to know, here and online and everywhere.
For that I am grateful.
I spent most of yesterday in bed, hungover but feeling socially refreshed, that feeling of possibility about like and love has returned. I have a good feeling about this year: it will be cleaner and clearer than the last.
For the first time ever I’m going to get to travel. By that I mean short visits and nowhere exotic, but now I can afford it: Toronto, Vancouver, maybe a short trip to Regina or the states.
I’m actually living the life I was dreaming about a year or two ago. I’m actually doing this.
And now that I think about it, hell yeah, I am kinda proud of myself. Saying that is not something I do easily…but fuck yeah, I’m kinda rocking this life!
elephant journal is doing well and my last review was positive. I think I’m past the hardest parts, with that and I’m finally feeling like I’m in my groove. I’m much more comfortable with the crew and working online by myself.
And this year’s promise to myself: be specific. Be detailed. Focus. Follow through. Communicate in clearer ways. Pay attention. Hone in. Be detailed, but don’t try to take on too much.
Tame all of the best ideas into manageable (do-able) pieces, and forget the rest.
Last night I had a vivid dream where I was hanging out with Johnny Depp (I fell asleep watching this movie) and a bunch of other people. We were camping or something—outdoors, just hanging out, mostly being quiet. I felt compelled to sort of talk to him but I was enjoying him just being there, too. I felt like we were somehow close. We were relaxed, just checking out board games to play.
I remember having the giddiness come up, like I was supposed to be excited because he is this big star. So it did, but then when let go of that hype and paid attention to how I really felt, I realized I just liked hanging out with him.
Then John and Kelly showed up. I remember Kelly said something to me that just cracked me up, and I was laughing so hard.
But, it was all just nice. Just a gentle, quiet presence.
And I am content about this past year, this new year…I’m genuinely excited, but without that giddiness. Without the highs.