Monday, January 2, 2017
New Year, New Me, New Post, Same Old Password - Miracles Abound in 2017
Today is January 2, 2017. A new year. New Year's is my favorite holiday because it's the only holiday that we, as a nation, and most of the world, all celebrate together, with no political undertones or sensitivity regarding beliefs or concerns about offending anyone, no stress of gift giving or the proper reaction upon receiving a gift. It's just simple. Joyous. New Year's is one day out of the year that we can all celebrate together, each with our own resolve to make this year THE year. We're given a fresh start and a chance to calibrate who we endeavor to be with who we currently are, starting NOW. Or yesterday. I'm not willing to work on procrastination yet. So it's January 2nd, I'm lucky I was able to remember my password to log in to my blogger dashboard in less than two frustrating days. I didn't even plan on resurrecting this creative outlet, but looking back at my endless drivel posted loud and clear all over Facebook, I started feeling really self-conscious and embarrassingly presumptuous that people really have the time and interest to invest in reading a paragraphs-long diatribe on why I, knowing nothing about cars, unable to even DRIVE the car I reference because it's a standard, believe Toyotas are the best car for your money. I stand by that still, but my excessively long explanation and laundry list of pros was totally unsolicited. The original comment was some inquiry about a clicking sound when their (non-Toyota) car made a turn. So I saw the word "car" and launched into an ad campaign about this 1983 Toyota pickup I'm chauffeured around in, which has new floor mats specifically so that I can't see the road and feel the cold coming through the holes in the floor now that the weather is changing. Looking back on 2016 behavior like that, getting hyper-sensitive, and subsequently cracking the password to my account without tears or tearing through old notebooks with scribbled information like that which I was certain I'd never forget at the time, added up to the return of the wayward wanderer, the indignant lost humbly found, the Facebook drone with a new platform to vent her platitudes and self-righteous, second-degree vanity. Follow along if you like, and you don't have to click any thumbs-up, or decide on the most accurate emoticon, leave a comment or send any message. I'm not quite sure how I'll figure out what to write about, but as I think I once said in a Facebook monologue, a good writer can make a story about anything, so intricate and layered are our thoughts and the world around us. As my mom once answered the question "What does your husband write?" She, already losing words from the dementia, said "He writes this," and patted his heart. It's a new year, 2017, and I'm tired. My mind is tired. It's time to quit thinking and planning and analyzing and begin. It's all there, right under my mothers open palm, it's time to write this. Arkansas is again your kansas. The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step and today is the first day of the rest of your life and all that. Fingers crossed.