January, AKA, 31 Days in the Void
Hello and welcome back! I'm writing this on a Saturday afternoon, half a pot of coffee deep and still in my pajamas. I don't make the rules, but apparently there's this new Eleventh Commandment that just got added to the original ten: Thou Shall Not Exit One's Apartment When It's Below Freezing. Whatever; I'm just trying to comply and do right by all the world's deities.
Anyway, it's the third day in a new month and I for one couldn't be more thrilled. The last time I wrote a newsy blog post, I was telling you all about my New Year's Day car accident. As I mentioned before, I wasn't hurt and it could've been much worse, but who would have thought that I would spend the rest of January sorting out a minor collision. To make a long story short, my car was deemed a total loss and I had to take out a loan to afford a new (used) one. In the weeks it took to get a pretty measly check from insurance and consolidate the other funds, I drove around my stepdad's 1991 Ford Ranger pickup and surely drove my family, friends, and coworkers crazy as I could talk about very little else. Quick shoutout to everyone in my life for being so cool and helpful as I was probably overdramatic and shrill, as I am often inclined to be. Thankfully the saga ended with me writing a check and driving away with a cute little 2015 Kia Optima I've named Summer Roberts. This is the fourth installment of a longstanding tradition wherein I name my cars after beloved fictional characters. Also I just want to take this moment to point out even though this is car number four, I haven't totaled three cars in my life. Albus Dumbledore the Nissan Sentra was too old to pass state inspection, Ezra Fitz the Mazda Tribute was a beloved lemon, and April Ludgate the Chevy Sonic met her fatal death in bumper-to-bumper traffic. I'm a good driver with bad luck behind the wheel that has now hopefully come to an end.
With this in mind and just in general, January seemed to go on and on and on. I was weirdly comforted to see I wasn't the only one who felt this way when memes about this past month's seemingly infinite nature started to surface on social media. But seriously what was up with these last 31 days? A new year is supposed to bring with it a spirit of change and positivity, but by day two I was really to resign myself to the fact that maybe 2019 would be my year.
That said, I decided to give myself permission to be overwhelmed. The weight of having to adhere to my resolutions and be the best version of myself felt all but debilitating. Here I was feeling like the living embodiment of the Friends theme song ("Your job's a joke, you're broke," etc.) while everyone around me was resolving to be on their A game. So I just gave myself a one month pass to chill, and honestly it was kind of great. I just trucked through January and referred to it as a weird wormhole that wasn't part of 2018, 2017, or really any year at all; it was just one month in some strange void that didn't count where I just had to do the best I could 31 times in a row.
I'm not saying it's the best mental health strategy around, (in fact, I can almost with certainty say it's not; please do not look to me for advice on your neuroses) but I am saying it oddly worked for me. I arose on Thursday, February 1st with the fervor of New Year's Day, minus the hangover. I have a new set of wheels, my favorite show is back on cable, and I'm ready to make 2018 my bitch. I'm excited to share with you all how this year goes, now that it's really started. I want to know what you're interested in reading, and if January felt like a strange Twilight Zone-ian void to you, too. Part of what I did in the new year was restructuring these posts so you can hopefully leave comments more easily, so I'm hoping you make use of that feature.
I'll talk to you soon!