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Am I old enough yet?
11/21/23 11:12 pmAs of the 19th of November, this mostly-hidden piece of my life became old enough, according to the laws set forth in this country, to drink. I got a celebratory email from its former home, and apparently, a badge. I haven’t logged in to look.
Twenty-one years. This blog is as old as some of the people I call friends these days, which is odd enough on its own, but when I consider that I was, myself, older than they are now when I started it… well.
It’s strange reading back, I used to write more fiction. More poetry. I used to be less afraid, even when there were more eyes. I like to hope that everyone’s forgotten, at least. I used to be, in some ways, more of a mess and in others, much less.
I’m still the me who was and will be always the me who is and my partner gave me a gift all unknowing that cost too much and yet I was glad of it. My cat (two cats removed from the one I curled with at that time) is asleep behind me on the couch. It’s Tuesday.
—
It’s always Tuesday in this place. Other days don’t matter. Days of fire, days of Mars, and Tyr, red and pink and blood and grace. Sometimes lucky, sometimes un, but each day is as much the same as it is different. I wore perfume today, as I often do, and washed my face but not my hair. I’m bleeding again, from a thousand wounds which curl and shift from open to scars as quickly as my mood.
Two decades would have made more sense to commemorate, but here I am adding one and one and one to remind myself that I still exist.
In 2002 I was twenty-three and struggling with a lot of things. I didn’t know the future, I barely acknowledged the past. I ran until I couldn’t breathe but now a few stairs winds me. These days I’m in the grinding gears of middle age, staring down the potential of senescence hastened by illness and fear. Maybe I’ll still be writing this in twenty one more years. I hope so? I hope this space can cling to existence in a world that increasingly values speed and interminable flickering images over words and the sluggish thoughts poured out at three a.m. I’m impressed that it’s survived this long, honestly.
Anyway, I’m going to try to do a full year next year. I think it’s time for another round.
Twenty-one years. This blog is as old as some of the people I call friends these days, which is odd enough on its own, but when I consider that I was, myself, older than they are now when I started it… well.
It’s strange reading back, I used to write more fiction. More poetry. I used to be less afraid, even when there were more eyes. I like to hope that everyone’s forgotten, at least. I used to be, in some ways, more of a mess and in others, much less.
I’m still the me who was and will be always the me who is and my partner gave me a gift all unknowing that cost too much and yet I was glad of it. My cat (two cats removed from the one I curled with at that time) is asleep behind me on the couch. It’s Tuesday.
—
It’s always Tuesday in this place. Other days don’t matter. Days of fire, days of Mars, and Tyr, red and pink and blood and grace. Sometimes lucky, sometimes un, but each day is as much the same as it is different. I wore perfume today, as I often do, and washed my face but not my hair. I’m bleeding again, from a thousand wounds which curl and shift from open to scars as quickly as my mood.
Two decades would have made more sense to commemorate, but here I am adding one and one and one to remind myself that I still exist.
In 2002 I was twenty-three and struggling with a lot of things. I didn’t know the future, I barely acknowledged the past. I ran until I couldn’t breathe but now a few stairs winds me. These days I’m in the grinding gears of middle age, staring down the potential of senescence hastened by illness and fear. Maybe I’ll still be writing this in twenty one more years. I hope so? I hope this space can cling to existence in a world that increasingly values speed and interminable flickering images over words and the sluggish thoughts poured out at three a.m. I’m impressed that it’s survived this long, honestly.
Anyway, I’m going to try to do a full year next year. I think it’s time for another round.
