Bring me that Horizon

I thought long and hard about what to focus on this week.  And then I thought about it some more.  And then I wrote a bunch of stuff I hated.  And then I reread all of the things I didn’t like thinking ‘it couldn’t have been THAT bad’.  It was.  Like garbage carcass crumbles bad.  And then I decided that I was going to write something hilarious and light hearted that would lift everyone’s spirits.  And then I stared at a white screen for over an hour.  And then I gave myself a pep talk to get the creativity flowing which led me to organizing every drawer in my apartment while listening to the Goo Goo Dolls.  Every drawer.

During this process, I realized that I keep things around much longer than I probably should.  I’m not a hoarder by any means, but I’m most certainly ridiculous and should honestly have a panel to help me make decisions because my judgement cannot be trusted.  I’m not exactly sure when I believe carmel colored bell bottom corduroys are going to make a comeback but I’ve held onto that belief since 2004.  Don’t ever tell me I’m not a woman of faith who believes in miracles and magic.  And then there was a lot of ‘I’ll fit into that again’ nonsense.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about having goals but unless the dairy industry goes out of business or becomes truffle-like expensive, I’m probably not going to fit into skirts I wore in the 8th grade again.  Yet I hold on to them because somewhere deep in my nutty professor mind underneath a pile of confetti, glow sticks, and silly string I believe that letting them go means I’ve somehow, in the slightest tiniest percentage of a way, given up on myself.  Someone help me.

So then I took a shower and belted Lady Gaga’s new album like I was auditioning for the Super Bowl Halftime Show and forgot to shave one of my legs entirely.  So fresh and so clean, I now had a clear mind to write.  And then I got distracted by my refrigerator and did that thing where you keep opening and closing it every other minute expecting to see Zuul or be inspired or like all of a sudden grandma’s homemade spaghetti is going to appear.  None of these things happened.  It’s hard to be inspired by a two week old lemon and brussel sprouts.  So then I sat back down ready for hilarious perfection to come oozing through my fingers when the sound of a wood saw came screeching into my apartment.  It’s extremely difficult to think of anything but ‘I WILL KILL EVERYHING!’ when power tools are being used within a 20 foot radius of you and aren’t being used to improve your personal situation.  It got even more cool when my lights started flickering and then I thought ‘God, is that you?’  It wasn’t.  Or maybe it was but I don’t know Morse code.

As my lights started dancing to the beat of the power tools outside I realized they were using my outlet so I had to deal with that.  I knew I was in the right but I also felt like that old cranky neighbor who takes out her lack of a social life and all of her family issues on everyone else.  The power saw finally stopped ripping into my cerebellum and 6 dudes just stared at me like I had ruined Christmas.  I retreated back into my apartment, got myself a giant glass of water and sat down.  Let’s do this.  Just as I was about to type my first word, they found another outlet.

I decide I’m going to blare music really loud so I can’t hear the circus of hammering, chipping, sawing, and drilling.  Alright, here we go.  Instead of writing, however, I decided to figure out the meaning of every single song that played.  And then I wondered what kind of music Obama listens to when he’s drunk, which led me to ponder the question- how many times has he been drunk in the last 8 years?  And then I started thinking about politics and the election and what kind of statue Trump is gonna plop on the White House lawn.  I tried to imagine how many red ties he owns and if Billy Bush is going to become Secretary of State.  Another Bush.  I wonder what Dave Chapelle is going to say about all of this on SNL this weekend.

And then I wondered what it was like to be an American back in the 1500s and how strange it was that men wore white wigs and tights.  And then I decided that I would have been a fantastic addition to the Victorian Age but that I would have been too cranky and hot without AC dressed in all of those layers.  No thank you.  I wondered if I had been raised in that era if I would have lived upstairs or downstairs.  Probably downstairs.  I thought of all of the phases and changes America has been through, the good and the bad.  There is a lot of animosity in the air like I haven’t felt before and on one hand it’s good because people are finally opening their eyes but on the other it’s creating a huge divide that I fear cannot be sewn back together.

And then I had to get ready to go and realized I had written nothing and Snow Patrol’s Chasing Cars was playing and got a tiny bit of a shiver.  Dad, was that you?  And then I thought of my circle and the people I hold close and how we’ve been through so much together and there is nothing I wouldn’t do for them. Nothing. We are a tiny army and when I’m with them, I feel invincible.  We’re all going to be okay.  I cannot let go of the optimism I have left. I believe in better days and that they are on the horizon.  As Captain Jack Sparrow would say, Now bring me that horizon.