This year feels worse than the past two years living in lockdowns and separations. This year, even though nothing is good, we are told to get back out there and start working, start living our lives again. As the entire nation burns, inflation ticking up, rights being stolen, police still killing poc, mass shootings on the daily, and a government that will not do the most basic task of protecting us. We will face another summer of protests and for what? Last summer we burned down cities and protested every day begging law makers to do something about the violence and a 25 y/o black man just had 40 bullets put into him from police while trying to run away and a mass shooter shot up a parade, on independence day. This is no longer our mothers government. We need something else besides signs and rallies. I have no ideas, and I know someone out there reading this is, or knows someone who is who might have the answers. We need to do more then just vote.
The older I get the less I care for the fanfare. If I don’t get the amount of texts I once did in my younger days, I don’t fall into a slump. Somewhere between 37 and today I stopped caring. Each year, the amount I care grows less. It’s not to say I have lost interest in my friends or the idea of existing, my priorities have shifted to other things. Like existing, surviving to an old age. Facebook likes and comments from my high school classmates won’t keep the blood pumping through my heart. I don’t have Facebook to even try to care about how many people check who’s birthday it is and run to their page to wish them another great year.
I don’t know if this is on par for my age or if I’m just getting crankier at an excelled speed. The amount I don’t care about the daily hassles of other peoples lives is not lost on me. I suppose I’ve never cared for the mindless chatter over coffee conversations that seem to fill other people with joy. Life has always meant more to me than wasting it on mind numbing idle chatter. I went through the social media phase where I needed to feel validated, and it was like a drug. I wanted to get more and more people to like and comment on my status updates, which I thought were deep and full of mystery, I know now they weren’t. They were trash, like most of the stuff put on the internet these days. Now it’s just a cesspool of anti vaxxers and maga’s. Why anyone would want to be a part of that is lost on me.
My younger self wouldn’t recognize who the older me is, I think thats normal. It wouldn’t be cute being a bar fly at 42, at 22 I was I huge supporter of the local bar scene. Always befriending the bartenders in hopes of strong drinks. The idea of going to bed when I do now made me cringe back then. I’d never be okay with it. I didn’t leave my apartment till 11, then after party till the birds chirped. I was a night creature. I’d sleep till noon or later. Now, if I sleep past 8 I feel the day is wasted. My priorities have changed. The things I once found important, being a social butterfly, being an active member of social media, being a part of a community that didn’t really care about my well being is gone. Running from the constable because I wrote too many bad checks is in the rearview.
I don’t regret the choices I’ve made. I was slow to grow up. I saw the people around me settling down, having kids. It didn’t deter me. I did, for awhile, feel maybe I should do the same, I found a boyfriend and hated it. I don’t like the feeling of being attached to someone. Maybe someday I’ll be okay with it. Sometimes I feel like a Jimmy Buffet song, but most of the time I feel okay with the choices I’ve made. When I look around, I can’t imagine doing everything I’ve done, the choices I’ve made, having to explain them to someone and I don’t have to. I hold my self accountable. Sometimes I fuck up, and I allow it. I’ve learned to go easy on myself with age. I’m not perfect and I no longer aim to be.
Things are starting to look normal again, that could have looked like this through the last year, but I wasn’t one to go out and about. Now that I am starting to get back out into the world it’s refreshing to see people out living their lives. I’m still seeing masks on a few folks and I think to myself they must not have got the vaccine or they are just being extra cautious, if you are in the latter I salute you. There is an energy around me when I’m out. My reintroduction into free society was memorial day weekend. I hosted a party for to kick off summer. The weather wasn’t the best, but being surrounded by people felt amazing. I am not good at much but I can host a party that would blow your waspy parents out of the water. I didn’t lose my touch during my forced sabbatical.
As a child I spent more time around adults then kids my age, and my young, yearning brain soaked it all up. The manners, smiles, eye rolls, and fake laughs. I would then go to my counter parts and try to emulate these behaviors with little fanfare. I would listen to the adults chatter about and over the years I’ve learned a good amount of what people get hyped over. it’s the little things.
I have an interview on Monday for a new job at a new company. My pay has been stagnant and I’m pretty much over it. It’s the same field I’m in now but a different position. It’ll be more money and less hours. It’s a mile away from my current company so my commute will be virtually the same. Wish me luck.
I didn’t participate in any pride events this year. I would have liked to go to nyc for pride weekend but it wasn’t in the cards this year. I’m hoping next year will work out better. I need to plan a trip home before the winter though. I have a few trips planned throughout the summer. I’m going to Galveston in a few weeks. After that a weekend in Hot Springs, a week in the Outer Banks. Finish out the summer in Vegas, with a road trip to the grand canyon for a day of hiking. Then I have to figure out a week to get home.
I have never been one to lounge around in sweatpants on a Sunday binging netflix, well the lounging and binging part yes, but never in a pair of sweatpants. I can honestly say i do not own a pair. For good or bad a lot of my self worth comes from my fashion choices and it’s a bit part of who i am.
I’ve always had an eye on how to dress the body I was born with, the one I try to keep slim and fit but also eats ice cream and cake more then I should. When I was in high school I won the best dressed award, I was also voted most likely to be running GQ magazine at thirty.
The latter did not happen. I grew angry with fashion as more and more fast fashion was becoming the go to for my generation. I guess it wasn’t fashion I hated, but the people controlling it. It was being turnt into the massive cow of an industry that didn’t fit my idea of what it meant to be fashionable.
I was very young when I found a style that worked for me and I’ve mostly maintained that same look. The materials have become more expensive but the look has stayed the same. Watches and belts have come and gone, as have sunglasses and shoes. I used to wear thick Italian soled black shoes and now wear Birkenstocks almost everyday.
I don’t say all this to brag or come off as some fashion expert. I am not, The thought of dressing someone else bores me to sleep. The last year has been yoga pants and athletic wear almost non stop. and I’m tired of it. I want to see sun dresses and leather sandals and heels, sexy sun glasses and big bright colors on lips. I’d also like to see lips again, so get your vaccine. I want to see tailored chinos and polos and loafers. Aviators and short shorts.
Fashion took a back seat this past year since everyone stayed home so I’m not sure what’s to come. I’m a little excited but mostly nervous. If I have learned anything over the years of crafting my own style its fashion magazines and trend pushers will try again to turn something so personal into something for the masses.
so crazy how time just flies by. I remember this night. I was out drinking and came home and took this photo before i stripped down and passed out.