“Once a little boy sent me a charming card with a little drawing on it. I loved it. I answer all my children’s letters — sometimes very hastily — but this one I lingered over. I sent him a card and I drew a picture of a Wild Thing on it. I wrote, “Dear Jim: I loved your card.” Then I got a letter back from his mother and she said, “Jim loved your card so much he ate it.” That to me was one of the highest compliments I’ve ever received. He didn’t care that it was an original Maurice Sendak drawing or anything. He saw it, he loved it, he ate it.”—
I don’t usually set one. When I do, I stick with just one, and I make sure it’s actually attainable. I can’t stand this whole “Don’t eat any sugar” bunch of shit people lay on themselves that just makes you feel like a bitter failure a month later.
My New Year’s resolution is kind of simple: I’m going to stop letting the guilt trips work.
I’ve been surrounded by them lately. It’s gonna happen when you get married and your guest list is only able to be like 10 people long. It’s gonna happen when your fiance lives on another continent and his time here is short and you spend it keeping him all to yourself, and keeping yourself all to him. It’s gonna happen when you call your mom and it’s gonna happen at the holidays when you’re a broke ass ho. I get that. But I’ve been getting it from all angles, and people are laying it on pretty damn thick and I’m sort of kind a little bit completely the fuck over it.
I’m sick of making decisions I’m not comfortable with, that don’t feel right in my gut, because other people are getting pissy. I’m sick of pushing myself beyond my limits of stress and fatigue just because people are asshole enough that having their happiness as my carrot isn’t enough for them, and they have the balls of steel to actually decide that they should make guilt the proverbial stick. Guilt trips are intrusive, demanding, and manipulative and I have time for all of that nonsense like I have time to read Sarah Palin’s novel. I don’t have it, and I don’t WANT it.
I’m doing the best I can, and those that matter get that, and those that don’t can shove that stick right up their ass. Let’s do this, 2012.
I derived a great deal of pleasure from filling the communal kitchen with the smell of warm ham sandwich while the pretentious, vegan masseuse from the office next door was in there making her fancy coffee.