I had a whole blog post ready to go about all of the things I’ve learned in 2021. It was emotional. It was deep. It was about smiling more and, you know, being the person you needed when you were younger. But then I realized I was kind of full of shit so HERE WE GO AGAIN.
I’ve tried writing this dumb thing three times.
If you follow me on Instagram, you’ve probably noticed that I’ve been spending a lot of time alone at my kitchen table with my face in a bowl of ice water. IT’S SCIENCE, OKAY. My friend Anxiety (capital A because she’s a big part of my life and that’s alright) has been coming over a little more than I’d like these days. So I’ve been trying to stay calm with a healthy combination of melatonin and passionate staring contests with my ceiling as I listen to 157 scooters speed by my ground floor bedroom window as soon as the light turns green.
And the light turns green…a lot. Like every 90 seconds.
So I wait for the the motorino headlights to reflect onto the white wall that faces my bed. “Damn, I really need to do something with that white wall.” I don’t know, maybe I should just give up the fight, install a giant 60-inch TV and stop with the books, the meditation and endless podcasts. I mean, they say insomnia aids with creativity and WHO AM I TO STOP CREATIVITY. Also, Chuck Palahniuk wrote Fight Club because of his insomnia. And I’m pretty sure George Clooney has insomnia. WHO DOESN’T WANT TO BE GEORGE CLOONEY. That Villa on Lake Como, I mean come on. Someone tell George I’m really good at painting walls and installing tile.
George Clooney’s sexy Villa aside, I’ve decided, for my own sanity, that I would not use the P word today. I’m over it, I’m tired and I don’t know how much longer 31-year-old me can listen to her teenage screamo music to deal with all of these feelings. Yes, feelings are for feeling, but I’m so over feeling this way. Just like everyone else. And if I had enough money saved up, I probably would’ve already been renovating a second house somewhere in the long lost mountains of Northern Italy to deal with the weight of the world. Maybe overlooking a lake. I don’t know, a place where there aren’t the mosquitoes that do weird things to my body. And I would definitely own a chain saw. And some chickens. I would love to have chickens. I’ve always wanted to pet a chicken, but I feel like asking an Italian farmer “POSSO ACCAREZZARE LA TUA GALLINA?” is a little inappropriate. “Can I pet your chicken?” doesn’t really sound much better. I’ll let you know if someone ever lets me pet their chicken.
But let’s focus on the future, shall we?
WHAT ARE WE ALL DOING IN 2022? LIKE WHAT’S THE PLAN?
I know we can’t make plans, but THE ONE THING I ASK FOR IS THIS. I would really love to finally get my Italian driver’s license.I got my Canadian license at 17 and I can only drive automatic. But do you know what’s rude about Italy? If you do your driving test on an automatic car, your license is only valid for automatic cars and you can’t drive standard. So now I feel like I HAVE TO LEARN HOW TO SWITCH GEARS or the Italians WILL THINK I AM WEAK.
But that’s all I’ve got. 2021 was hard and I wanted this last blog post of the year to be motivational and positive. I wanted it to be different. But as I sit here, in a tiny Italian kitchen B&B in Molise, I’ve got nothing left to give this year. And I think that’s okay.
It’s okay if 2021 exhausted you. It’s okay if you don’t have any New Year’s resolutions. It’s okay if you put important projects on the back burner. It’s okay if you’re disappointed in yourself. It’s okay if you’re sad about the missed opportunities, the dates you never went on, the friends you didn’t see. It’s okay if fear or sadness were the feelings you felt the most. It’s okay if all you did was survive. It’s okay. We’re okay.
Expectation is the root of all heartache so let’s start 2022 with really low standards. The kind of standards you had when you were 18 (BUT BRAD HAS A CAR AND A PART-TIME JOB, MOM! I LOVE HIM). 2022 is Brad. If all Brad does is drive us around in his dirty Honda Civic and give us free strawberry milkshakes from his job at McDonalds so he can make out with us, we’re golden, baby.
Happy Almost 2022, I love you.