Everything old is new again

Well, hello there…Newman. Fancy meeting you here. It’s been awhile, my fat little friend.

Without going into a tremendous amount of detail, let’s summarize briefly what’s been happening in the last 2 years or so since I vanished into self-induced blogger obscurity, presumably never to be heard from again:

I got a new job. I moved to Oakland. I traveled to England – Albania – Oregon – Ireland – Louisiana – New York – Las Vegas – South Africa although not necessarily in that order. I reignited my love affair with burritos. I continued my totally un-clandestine love affair with Jean Luc Picard. (Shh, don’t tell Commander Riker). I saw Patrick Stewart in a play. I learned how to paddleboard. I got a promotion. I had a run in with the CHP. I had two fillings replaced. I went to a Bone Thugs ‘N’ Harmony concert. I saw Lionel Richie. I landed a huge grant. I lost a huge grant. I made a quilt. I read Catch 22. I voted. I had approximately 4,268 transatlantic FaceTime calls with Claire Walsh. I attended my first Bay to Breakers race. I learned I like watching football. I learned I still hate baseball. I signed up for online dating. I went on countless dates. I ended up with a boyfriend. I broke up with said boyfriend. I online dated again. I went on countless dates. Again. I got dumped by Uncle Sam. I got into a fight with a bartender. I won. I made some bad decisions. I went to 9 weddings. I got invited to 4 more. I gave a kick-ass maid of honor speech. I had my first concussion. I got called for jury duty. I made some good decisions. I learned how to cut myself some slack. And how to say “thank you” in Ethiopian. I took my first RV trip. I got the best piece of mail ever. I made new friends. I fell in love with old friends all over again. I cried a lot. But I laughed so much more.

And somewhere in all of this, I stumbled my way into an awesome little life. A rooted, grounded California-knows-how-to-party kind of life that 2 years ago seemed like the most preposterous possibility in the history of all things possible.  

Which is where this blog comes in: I had a conversation with someone last night that somehow ended up winding its way into a brief discussion about the fact that I used to write – a lot. I spent the morning re-reading some of my old posts, mulling over things I’ve said, people I’ve known, and places I’ve been…it reminded me of the fact that even though I haven’t so much as tapped a keyboard as it relates to this virtual soapbox of mine in a coon’s age, I actually maybe sort of still have a lot of things to say. There is still shit to be talked. Absurd circumstances to be agonized over. So SO many (so many) ridiculous stories just floating about in space, all dressed up with nowhere to go, just waiting for someone to invite them to an Internet-themed party and I don’t mean San Francisco.

While I can’t make any promises on the frequency or philosophical depth of my internal commentary — if anyone was holding out for poetry in motion let’s just remind ourselves that Prince, I am not, so let’s get our expectations straight — me and ol’ Totes McGee here are going to try and say something (anything? Many things) every once and awhile.

So, that’s all. Oh, and you’re welcome. In advance. 

With the caveat of ‘sorry I’m not sorry’ about what happens after this in 3…2…1… 

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