dispatch from underneath the coffee table
2011 shuts the door behind it and a gust of cool air sends the quilted birds spinning. It walks through the kitchen and stops in front of the table, appraising the floor. These people need a dog. It picks up the head of a Lego power miner, just the head, yellow with a grimacing face, and sets it down again where it came from, in the middle of a plate of half-eaten toast.
Through the door to the living room, 2011 sees a rug and the edge of a couch. "Kate? Kate Inglis?"
The fridge lurches. The dehumidifier hums in the crawlspace underfoot. This is weird. She knew I was coming today.
I draw myself in, not breathing, but it's hopeless. My feet stick out the end. 2011 stands in front of the wood stove, noting hot coals, then turns around. Steel-toed boots and thick socks pulled up taut over neat calves, fresh and fortified for a new set of seasons. All I can see is that but I can tell. 2011 has its hands on its hips.
Go find someone else.
2011 looks down.
I see you.
+++
I am listless and drippy, the physical manifestation of a brain plugged solid. The small boy who's as much boundless puppy as human curls up at my feet, his fourth shortbread cookie clutched in his fist. He stares at me, saying nothing except for what he emotes.
Mmm. Cozy.
Hey. Check this out. I can make this sound DOO DO DO DO DOO.
Fowrf. Fowrf cookie.
You bedduh, mommy?
You wanna cookie?
Everything is good. He just ate four cookies. Good! Everything good. Wait. Stop. BAD. Bad-bad. Can't find silly putty. No! Bad! Silly putty lost! All gone lost! OH NO BAD.
We search. We find silly putty smushed into the couch.
Silly putty YAY! Everything is good!
We high-five.
+++
Not like I resolve to eat less gluten or I resolve to lovingkindness, whatever that is, I dunno, but it sure sounds awesome or I resolve to getting ripped with crossfit or I resolve to being a better <mother> <moneymaker> <citizen>. I'm thinking more along the lines of I resolve to think less and do more. Like, just get more small things finished. To quit thinking of big things as being big, but rather, just a whole bunch of small things put together in a row. To mope less. To quit shuffling around the house like an unwashed zombie, kneecapped by the weight of responsibility, the inevitable letting-down of people who depend on me to make good choices and do good things and take good care and put up a good and respectable front.
I don't want to care so much about what people say and think, or at the very least, I'd like to stop caring to the point where the social comfort of other people takes precedence over my own.
I'm tired of feeling like the unresolved issues of other people are caused by me.
I'm exhausted of speculating as to fault and performance. I'm not going to do that anymore. The same goes for judging others, and people who judge others. I want to be more silent when silence is the smarter and more compassionate thing, which is almost always.
Seeking approval from others is pointless. I may as well sign off on myself.
I am tired of pretending I am always functional as opposed to dysfunctional. I am tired of trying to figure out where that line is drawn, and who gets to draw it.
I'm tired of using cynicism as a prop, a plywood bit of fakery to excuse me from the burden of possibility.
Selfish and indulgent and saccharine in that self-helpy kind of way that's all fluff and cupcakes. That's what all this sounds like, doesn't it? See how that sounds? But I've been wound up like a goddamn rusty spring. I can't get anything done. I'm all bleary-eyed and haunted by consequences that haven't happened yet. I spend 96% of every day agonizing about all the ways I might fail, hurt, or otherwise damage my life and the lives of the people I love. Like rain will stop falling and earth will turn into dust if Kate doesn't <x> versus <y>. Like Kate makes rain. Which makes me want to slap Kate hard across the cheek. She needs it.
Kids are sunk or lifted by cookies and silly putty. Stuff you can hold in your hand. Tangible things that go bump and smash. Kids don't agonize over making the right choices. They just feel good if they do something cool for a couple of hours.
I resolve to think less and do more.
Like a kid.
+++
The wooden screen door slams. The house is quiet again. I hadn't wanted 2011 to begin. For months I've been saying I'll do it in January. Just have to get through Christmas and then I'll re-write a novel, restart my career, make money, start another career, and stop feeling like a bloated piece of crap.
So now it's January, and I've been hiding underneath the coffee table.
Thinking less and doing more sounds fine, 2011 had said, looking squarely at me. Just so long as you're showering. You're showering, right? You're using soap and everything?
Yeah. Mostly.
Right then. Good start.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Reader Comments (40)
Effect.
Infecting.
Thank you, is what I'm trying to say.
I just want to read your words all the time.
I see this when I watch my dog. Hey look a bird, lets run! It's always fun.
http://www.boingboing.net/2011/01/04/i-havent-used-soap-i.html
ok, yes. think less. just do. follow those kid-like instincts that just want to eat four cookies and play play play. or nap in the sun.
2011 has been stalking me too, that bitch. she's wearing kick ass knee high boots that i really covet though. she's chic in that way. just totally stubborn and hell bent on dealing the cards.
and your boys? too, too sweet.
i am anxious to see what 2011 holds for you. i think you are going to rock it.
and today you step into that shower. nothing more. nothing less.
hear those kids? they're hungry. for you. nothing more. nothing less.
and everything else will <i>be.</i>
you've got it right. in tiny bits.
xo
erin
I wish you well with Ms. 2011, may she smile upon your plans and if not who needs her? 2012 will be here soon enough...
All the best
Bobbi
If you take out the references to children, this is a post I could have written. You'd also need to take out the bit about slapping Kate. I probably wouldn't write a post about my difficulties and then bring up slapping you as an option. "General, the Soviets have launched their entire battery of missiles at us. What do we do now?" "First we go and slap Kate. She's probably mixed up in this somehow."
If the last year of constant change, upheaval, and chaos taught me anything, it's that you just need to get through each day, all by itself. If every day has a tiny victory - like showering - at least you'll have that.
This post was beautifully written. So that was the small victory for today. Right behind finding the Silly Putty.
I am no longer thinking of the superficial crap that most people resolve. Not losing weight, not cutting out the wine, not being kind to others.
I am just resolving to make it. That's all.
Thanks again Kate, you hit the nail on the head every time!
XO
Shauna
I wrote a post about daring to respect, not despise, the unfinished business in our lives, to see it not as a sign of failure, but of daring to bite off more than we can chew.
"I am tired of pretending I am always functional as opposed to dysfunctional. I am tired of trying to figure out where that line is drawn, and who gets to draw it."
Happy new year. I think I may trying showering more in 2011 also. Thanks for the inspiration.
I want to stop caring so much what others think, too. And I want to stop waiting for them to fill me up. I keep going away hungry.
Be brave! my son says to me as he saws at my arm with a wooden knife. And I crack up, but then I think I'll make that my resolution.
Because I use cynicism in the same way -- it's a nice shield for a soft organ that doesn't want to take risks or admit when it likes things, like silly putty or that pretty bolt of fabric.
Is it awful to say that I feel relieved that you get into these places too? I mistakenly think that success (of any kind) inoculates against indecisive shuffling. Thank god, you're mortal! Thank god, there is no promised land that I have to find and delcare: I'VE ARRIVED! I can do something small, today. Right now. Thank you.
in my house, i think it'll be 2010 until i manage to get the tree down.
"To mope less. To quit shuffling around the house like an unwashed zombie, kneecapped by the weight of responsibility, the inevitable letting-down of people who depend on me to make good choices and do good things and take good care and put up a good and respectable front."
I just hadn't really been able to put it in to words yet. So thank you. Thank you for this. For all of it.
Happy new year, Kate. Here's to keeping clean.
xo
I have lots of days feeling as though I'm bad at everything, that I've screwed everything up, that I'll never fix it... that I'll never be good or gracious enough to solve things and make it right and be skipping down the road, singing showtunes, picking flowers. But I think you're right. And being productive and kind and all-the-things-we-should-be-anyway will land us in gracious spots, when we're ready.
May 2011 be a good year for you, Kate. xo
The best to you.
xo
j
off to shower. xo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FpFmn0r5Cy4.
Reminiscent of your "quit thinking of big things as being big."
Hope you enjoy the song! It's from their brilliantly named CD "The Universe is Laughing.".
(By the way, I bought The Dread Crew for my 9-year olds as one of their Solstice/Christmas presents. We began reading it together last week. THANK YOU for writing!)
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
i've been reading here for a while now, mostly while i pump milk for my kid (before i found your blog i'm pretty sure i just stared at the wall while i did it...thank you for helping me fill that time in a much more enjoyable fashion).
i love the way you write; i love what you write.
anyway, i, too, spend a lot of time thinking/anticipating/caring what other people think before i even let them think it...i'm trying to be less like that, more like my kid and more like the mama i want my kid to grow-up around.
after months and months of hiding behind my computer, peeking in on you, i'm coming out from around the corner. it's a step, right?
i've been blogging--writing letters to my daughter--and i've been secretly wanting to tell you that i do this--even though we've never met, even though i feel a little creepy admitting it.
so, here goes. http://www.deardearmaxine.com
i would be intensely flattered if you dropped in; i will be completely understanding if you don't.
and regardless, i wish you well and thank you for all that you've shared, for all that you've shown.
Thanks for sharing this. Couldn't have come at a better time.
Drinking in the goodness of the underlying sentiment and feeling better about tomorrow.
...sums it all up for me.
When will they figure out that inside I am just a bowl of pudding waiting to be spilled on the floor? Just one dog slobber-wipe, peanutbutterandjelly-sammich, diaper-change away ...
Your words are so gorgeous. (Not how you are feeling, I hate that you are feeling like this, but I do recognize it.)(All this is what is lurking between the words in the one I just wrote. But you, here, you are like a bowl of fruit loops. I feel bran next to the exactly-right deliciousness of this.)
Paul Kelly, brilliant lyricist, a musician from the other end of the world wrote a song, a song about big things, about the ways in which change can come about with the following chorus: "from little things big things grow." The end of the song is a wild wide open blast of digeridoo. May your year build like that song, may the showers and shortbread and moments of play reverberate, may they build into something bigger and more beautiful than you imagine right now. In the meantime, let the stars keep on turning.
[ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6_ndC07C2qw ]
2011 has been kicking my ass. I decided, notice I don't say resolve because resolutions are total bunk, that I also would "do more." So far, it's been quite disastrous. Unhappy people on all ends. The things is, I don't regret it. Kate. I hope you really hear this. I don't regret the mess. I don't regret any of it. Climb out from under that table. Shake off the dust. Thinking of you, love.
I want to speak to the little people that whisper in your ear, and write (or think) like you do.
So please, when you are done showering, don't forget to come back and write