Saturday, Dec. 29, 2018 - 3:32 pm.
I should make a year-in-review entry or something, but that's a lot of work. It would be nice to look back, but as I'm typing this I'm going through some nice moments in my memory, and that's good enough for me. I'm grateful for this year and most of what's come with it.
Sure, this was the year I finally digested the fact that I'm a true nobody and I have less talent for writing than I thought, and I'm useless, charmless and incapable of making a meaningful contribution to the world. Still, if that's the worst I can say about my personal 2018, I'm golden. Of course I will continue trying to be all those things I'm not, if anything because I can't help it. I can't not write. I do feel hopeless about it, but I have no abilities to deal with life outside academia or fiction writing, even if I remain at the bottom of both.
This last week of the year went by too quickly. It was fine for the most part, except Andrew and I had a massive row mid-week. As usual, he shifted moods quickly, blindsiding me and changing plans while he was at it, so I went absolutely mental about that. I nearly slept in the guest room, but he had it covered it in stuff, because that's also his gaming room (I'm not complaining, I have my own room just to write, following Virginia Woolf's advice. Privileged, aren't I? And I *still* can't get writing right).
By massive row I mean not speaking to one another, fuming silently, and exchanging accusatory glances on occasion, but I don't think either of us understood what the other was thinking. I told myself I'd talk to him about that when it passed, but when it did, as it always does, I let it go. It was an overnight affair. 24 hours later we had dinner, watched a movie, and fucked sweetly. Our major marriage crises are like hiccups, which is not bad at all.
Our Christmas was quiet. It was good. We had dinner but instead of fucking we exchanged presents nearing midnight. We found a Bowie documentary on Netflix and good Lord, it was so poorly executed that we turned it off before reaching the middle. On the plus side, I got Bowie stuff! The Glastonbury concert vinyl from Andrew, and wooden cat-with-lightning-bolt earrings and a 1973 Bowie concert ticket stub printed on a coaster from my friend Stan, whom you can tell she loves me lots. Andrew also got me a robe that screams I have a lot of sex. Which I don't, but it's a nice aspiration (he pays attention to me more than I do myself; I'd quickly glanced at a similar robe on our trip to Bakewell a month ago).
I didn't work on my thesis as I'd hoped. I didn't quite do as much as I wanted in general, but I appreciate having free time.
Now, as kids these days say, it's time to say goodbye to 20gayteen, and welcome 20biteen. There are many uncertainties ahead this year, but at least I'm bi. Also, Andrew loves me, and my friends and family are alright, so the rest shall fall into place, or I'll make it do so.
prev / next