whatever, calendars are bullshit

This is a decade, not a deadline.


If you look at the clock ticking down tonight and it feels like you’ve failed at something you felt sure you’d have locked by now - family, friends, career, money, health - please, please, please say this to yourself:


I am in progress.


Calendars are bullshit, all of them, except maybe this one:

There is no magic that happens when the sun rises tomorrow. You are powerful now, you were powerful yesterday, you’ll be powerful tomorrow and the next day and the next week and the next month, which are all made-up parcels of time designed to make our lives more manageable so we can all generally agree upon when the best time for spring break might be, and also so women in the movies can look at a little datebook in their handbag and know that they’re probably pregnant with that guy who will be hot once he shaves and puts on clothes that fit!

Anyway, if you’re hopeful tonight, be hopeful.

If you get juiced up with possibilities at the close of a year or ten years, stay juiced up! I tend to embrace these kinds of events because I love new projects, and that’s what new years feel like to me. I can make a new Google doc and nothing frees my soul like a new Google doc, especially if you’re also giving me the beat boy so I can get lost in your rock and roll and drift away.

And if you’re down tonight, be down. That’s okay, too. If teaching my children emotional intelligence has taught me anything, it’s EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE, and a big ass slice of EQ is the understanding that feelings are nonnegotiable. Fighting them only puts you in conflict with yourself, and you need you on your team.


Hi, I’m Katie, it’s the last day of the decade, and here are some things I did over the last ten years:

Peed my pants on a trail run. Not a little. Not like a teaspoon. I’m talking a FULL VOID. Like a post-movie pee. Like a just-woke-up pee. I had to stop at Target on the way home and buy some new pants. I was a voting adult.

Had two children and profoundly fucked up my back, but my kids are pretty awesome even if they’re A LOT, but I think they’re a lot in the best possible way, which is to say my mom tells me I was also A LOT when I was their age.

Had my first panic attack! Wheeeee...

Started therapy twice. Went through trauma therapy to deal with a rat phobia that emerged when I was in the throes of postpartum anxiety and stuck around for a couple years until EMDR freed me to return to that one park where I saw a rat one time. It doesn’t sound like a big deal when I say it like that but believe me, treating my rat phobia made my life bigger. I can go to the zoo now! And down alleys, if I want to!

Bought a tub of cream cheese and a can of black beans literally every single time I went to the grocery store over the past ten years because I was always convinced we needed them and WE NEVER DID because I ALWAYS BOUGHT THEM, which explains why I currently have many many many recipes for chili and cheesecake.

Eaten my feelings a lot.

Fallen asleep during the wedding scene at the top of Godfather no fewer than eight times.

Built a blog that found your beady little eyes, didn’t I?

Did a podcast for a year. I miss it and want to launch something new… maybe in 2020!

Tried a TV show for the Young Turks and it didn’t go well, and I was so relieved when they pulled the plug. Turns out I hate being on camera.

Moved from a big city to a small town. Turns out I love walking to the post office for my mail.

Gone snorkeling, I guess? Facebook memories tells me I did, but the only thing I remember about that trip was making Ryan watch Gone with the Wind in our hotel room and he seriously yelled “HOW LONG IS THIS MOVIE” at least eight times. It’s long, babe. It’s real long.

Walked out of countless grocery stores with a case of unrung sparkling water on the bottom of the cart, which I only see after I’ve clipped the kids into the car and look, I’m sorry. I don’t go back. It’s two bucks. I know. I’M SORRY.

Ended friendships that weren’t working. I mean explicitly ended them. That was awful, and then it was good.

Let other friendships go because we were just moving in different directions. That was sad, and it’s still sad.

Yelled things I never thought I would yell over my shoulder while cooking macaroni and cheese: “IS THAT A KNIFE? WHICH KNIFE? OH, THAT’S FINE.” and “Blueberries are not for painting! NO, neither is my lipstick! NO, neither is that Sharpie. Literally nothing is for painting except PAINT and NO you can’t have PAINT I’m COOKING.” and “I don’t care if he’s fine with it, I’m not fine with it, penises are not swords!”

Pooped my pants, twice. Once at a Nordstrom when I was training a new hire. Yep, right there on the sales floor. “You’ll see that these sports bras run a little… … … ah, would you excuse me for a moment?” (speed duck walk) Another time I was sick but I wanted to take newborn Chicken for a walk to get him out of the house for a few minutes. I left the house, turned left at the end of the block, tried to fart, shat, did a hard 180, and twalked home like I’d just ridden a horse 40 miles through the desert.

Got two tattoos with my sisters. Want to get another one. I’m thinking a velociraptor but I’m open to ideas.

Accidentally got drunk on a boat at my husband’s work Christmas party, sat at a table with some people I didn’t know, smiled plastically, and kept telling myself WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT DANCE. Once the boat docked I grabbed his hand and I was like RUN, and when we got to the gravel parking lot he said something funny and I laughed so hard I fell down and scraped the back of my hands because I went down like a TREE, y’all.

Fell in love with Aaron Sorkin’s writing, then fell dramatically out of love with Aaron Sorkin’s writing. DON’T TALK TO ME LIKE I’M OTHER PEOPLE, A-A-RON. I just can’t even with the bossy interrupting “good guys” in shirtsleeves with daddy issues and messiah complexes. Not anymore.

Wrote a book?!?!?

… but also failed to write at least ten other books! Signed up for NaNoWriMo ten times with ten great ideas (well, they were fine, at least. They were at least as good as a Dan Brown, people) and completed it zero times.

Pitched so many terrible ideas that got rejected, and the only worse thing was when one of my terrible ideas got accepted and I got 90% of the way done writing it and I was like “Oh no, baby, what are you doing?”

Learned how to be a mom and a wife and still also Katie, and if you’re like “Girl why is that a thing you’re proud of,” then I’m SO PROUD OF YOU for being more self-actualized than I was and I’m not even a little bit jealous!


What I’m saying is over the past ten years I’ve failed, embarrassed myself, doubted myself, protected myself, fucked up, self-sabotaged, apologized a thousand times, and been mostly boring and predictable, and look, that’s the gig, people. That’s the person gig.

Calendars are bullshit, you’re still here, and I for one am thrilled that you are.

And if you’re looking for something to shoot for in 2020, try this: be a work in progress. Learn about yourself when you’re deep in the shit, and keep moving forward.

Also, read more books you actually enjoy, not just things people told you you’re supposed to enjoy. I mean, that’s true for basically everyone.

And flossing can’t hurt, except that it CAN and DOES until it doesn’t anymore, or so I’m told. Also, go to an escape room! Unless you’re claustrophobic, then you should go to the hills and spin and siiiiing!

And listen to more women musicians! They’re pretty amazing! Also, drink more tea! And give yourself a hug every night before bed and tuck yourself in as if you were your own mother because you deserve to be loved that thoroughly for no reason at all!

Happy new year, new decade, happy arbitrary date on the calendar which is bullshit, unless it’s this one:

cevanscal.jpg

and happy Tuesday, happy winter, happy Netflix night, happy popcorn, happy champagne, happy ginger ale and I hope you feel better, honey. Happy soft pants, happy journal, happy dance party in a hot dress, and I hope they play your song.


If a blogger blogs on her blog but nobody is there to read it, did the blogger really blog?

Thanks for being here!

xoxoxo

Katie