but seriously, who will stop the rain (but the asia song this time)

What do you miss?

I miss less than I expected, and I hesitate to characterize this thought as “comforting,” but also… I am learning about myself. Learning that, here at nearly 31, I hardly know anything, really.

For example, I do not miss waiting on the bus in the rain, do not miss being splattered with puddle-water by oncoming traffic. I do not miss LOGISTICS. Do not miss shoving various snacks and costume changes into my poor, overstuffed messenger bag. Do not miss bargaining with myself: “Okay, you’re allowed to buy an iced coffee before Job #1 today, but that means you CAN’T take an Uber in between Job #1 and Job #2.”

Do not miss feeling like a big ol’ flake for needing to call out of A Thing, because my brain just wasn’t having it anymore. Sometimes I have very pure and good intentions on a Tuesday afternoon that I cannot live up to by Friday night.

Parts of this… sitting here on my porch, working at my own pace, taking breaks for tea and for walks and for checking in on friends, listening to my music as loud as I like… I can hack this. I feel gross and guilty for it, but there it is.

(I feel gross and guilty all the time. I was fucked before this, please understand.)

So, what do I miss?

Gods, I am missing ancient things lately. I am missing things that I haven’t had in YEARS. I am missing slumber parties, I am missing card tables laid out with bottles of orange soda and boxes of Domino’s. I am missing SNICK. Hey, fellow 90’s kids! What I wouldn’t GIVE for shoving a slice of cheese, thin crust into my face while watching Kablam! right now?!

So, I’m going to make that thing happen, as much as I can. Some of this I can control. I can still go to the grocery store, so I can buy orange soda and pizza for myself. And you can’t come over, that’s true, but maybe we can watch last year’s Rocko special together on Netflix Party?

(I mostly miss you.)

And I miss being up on the Write Club stage, full of whiskey and words. And I miss hauling my laptop to coffee shops, I miss clacking away, fueled by a fancy latte that I can never re-create at home. And I miss the aquarium. I think that might be the first place I go when this is all over: I am going to get to the aquarium as soon as it opens, and I am going to plop down on the carpeted floor in front of the dolphin habitat the way I used to back when I worked there, and I am going to be in the presence of dolphins once again.

This sucks, and however you’re handling it is okay. You don’t have to be doing anything. I’m not really doing anything. I come here because it feels like I’m talking to you (I talk too much, I do want to hear what you have to say, I promise), and, again, I miss you.

And I come here to practice, I think. One day I’m going to have An Idea, and won’t it have been a good thing that I’ve been writing so much of anything lately? I follow a lot of writing blogs right now, and I’m trying to take away the lesson that All Writing Is Good Writing, Because PRACTICE.

’cause I don’t really have a good story right now, you know? Nothing’s really happening. But we’re still here, and I’m still feeling a lot of damn feelings, and I need to believe that this is worth documenting. If only for myself, I need to remember the time that I was out on my porch and the sun was shining.

I don’t know, Team. I love you. You’re doing great. Let me know if you want to watch cartoons together. We’ll figure it out.

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