I have all these friends in my life with whom I periodically get into gigantic fights because they won’t admit that we’re living in a patriarchal universe or whatever. Although I’ve sort of accepted that it’s my lot in life to fight these battles and I attempt to do it with panache and style and as little malice as is possible when one is literally screaming, the past few weeks I’ve been fighting a lot of stupid little battles, and it’s worn me down just a bit. Well, it’s actually sucked the air out of my internal world lately, making everything seem flat and dull and utterly uninspiring, filled with stupidity and ugliness.
A few days ago one of these frenemies – and probably the most egotistical person I know – called me a huge egotist. Then I was talking about this question with another friend, dancing around coming right out and asking him if he thought the same, when he said that being an egotist was not necessarily a bad thing. Is it necessarily bad to care about one’s life, to think it is important in the sense that it can be used for positive change? It was a nice thing to say. I’ve been mulling it over the past few days.
I had to make some cookies for a client this weekend, and for various reasons relating to perfectionism and a Proust’s-madeline-like remembrance of cookies past that I am trying to imitate, the cookies had been a huge pain in the ass. But I made them and packaged them up nicely, and then I wrote that post about shoes below. I was thinking that it was so bloggy and who-cares-about-shoes-ey and how my blog-writing style, with all its dashes and commas and prepositions, was just ridiculous. Then I met the client, and gave her the box of cookies. When I handed her the box and took the check, I felt a physical lightness throughout my body, a surge of air and energy.
I came home and jumped up the stairs, smiling down at the green shoes, and felt everything ugly falling away, fights and cookies and egotism. The physical transfer of the box took something else from me, and I was happy it was gone.
In my most happy and exultant moments the phrase “Fuck it!!!” always pops into my head, which sounds negative but is really about letting things be, and being happy with my own strangenesses. I was suddenly overcome with happiness and the best sort of egotism, just happy to be me, facing a few days off and no more cookies to make, not caring how I could be perceived over the internet or out in the world. In love with my commas, and my dashes and parenthetical notes and starting sentences with prepositions.
The other day a friend and I were talking about blogs because he wants to start one. I was saying that I found it very useful for using up the excess scraps of energy I seem to always have laying around. He pointed at his two boys and said that having kids would use up all that pesky energy, and I smiled. His kids are actually pretty neat, and it sounds sort of tragic to say, but I’d much rather have a blog. Well, not just a blog. Days off and a tidy household and time to read books and think and all that.
All I’m trying to say – let’s keep it simple, for once – is that, dear internet, I’m really liking my life these days. And I truly wish everyone – even my numerous frenemies – the same.