A picture of me I took yesterday
2013, as I keep saying, was my Epic Clusterfuck Year.
Online dating, star-crossed romance, stalking, embarrassments abroad. I had it all.
Meanwhile, my so-called ‘career’ began to slowly take off. I published many an article, worked as a copy-editor, got a certain book deal. I moved, I moved again. All the while searching for that perfect match, and when the search availed I started again, with more baggage piling up and more losses to show for it.
It used to be that I did my thing, make the ol’ money and moderately exercise and read books and study, and I was more or less productive. I was prolific, and nobody in the world knew. Then this year came, it all escalated, I had no more time to myself, and I know my craft suffered for it.
In the end, I had very little to show. Very little to brag of indeed.
And yet, it got even worse. The story was far from over.
And yet, I will not continue this story.
I thank all you readers for being interested in my petty life, and for letting me share and purge. It’s been very therapeutic. I do hope it’s been a good read.
Unfortunately, we are now catching up to the present, and it is still too soon. It is getting a bit too real.
It’s awkward enough when I’ve written these things and someone out in real life tells me they remember that time. I shan’t do that anymore. I’m not out to expose secrets here; I’m obviously not completely into anonymity either, but I do have limits.
So that is that.
Allow me merely be reflective upon a memoir’s epilogue not yet written.
Wait a year or two or ten, and I may get back to you in more detail.
It’s a shame, it would have made for some great writing… Woulda’ been ten blogs worth at least…
Sigh: One. Her. Pejorative Nickname. I had a whole internal dialogue about what pseudonym or pronoun to use and what level of respect is accorded, and I will not share the conversation with you! Sorry.
Nevermind that.
Look. I know I’m not particularly innocent. I know I’m not.
But there was one day I lost the very last shreds of my innocence, and I can never ever get it back.
I heard things I never heard before, I was told things no one else has ever since told me.
That lasts.
I am, however, so over it.
I’m slightly better at relationships since that time. A little bit. A teensy, tiny, very little bit. But slightly better nonetheless.
A better class of person has graced my own personage, and know that it is appreciated.
I learned about all I could learn from the scenario. Okay? Okay?!! Okay.
At this point in my life I’d prefer to play it cool. Grow somewhat, take things seriously, and simultaneously be cool.
To get over myself, as it were.
Enough already with the self-indulgence.
It is 2014. In fact, 2014 is almost over. It is an even-numbered year, and I tend to do better in even-numbered years. It has been a year of much reflection and evolution, it truly has.
I hope I can keep it up.
Soon it will be another odd-numbered year, and it will be hard on me and I’ll need all the help I can get.
There are new challenges to consider, new stages in life and amazing things yet to occur. There will be novelty. There will be grace. There will be magic and fire and art and power.
Time to seize this living thing.
The dealing-with-my-issues stage is over. It is now time to go go go–
Wish me luck.
Thanks again for reading.
–Ray
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