It’s been four years, and I’m shocked I even remembered the password for this.

I’m on day three of being laid up in bed with a nasty bout of respiratory flu, and apparently am delirious enough with boredom to decide blogging is a good choice.

So much has happened since I last wrote, and it’s interesting to take a step back and really remember all of the accomplishments/set-backs I’ve encountered.

To recap:

  • I graduated from UMW with a Bachelor’s in English. My only friend that I ever made in college (KVCC) flew down for my party. I also had my first kegger.
  • I interned with the National Parks Service. Twice. This changed my mind completely about what my “dream job” is.
  • I got lost on Old Rag Mountain and had to spend the night up there. I rode in a helicopter basket to get out. I now take the Girl Scout motto “Be prepared” much more seriously. (I conquered Old Rag the following year on the anniversary date and decided I never need to hike that mountain again).
  • My Wolf baby turned 10.
  • I made another genuine best friend, who has a child, who I actually like. I always knew I would be a cool aunt.
  • I’ve become a pretty fuckin’ great cook. I really enjoy it, and I’m great at having “weird” recipes turn out well.
  • My baby brother got married at the end of last year, and I couldn’t be luckier than to have such a kind-hearted, beautiful sister-in-law.
  • I’m in a loving, happy, committed relationship with someone who is one of the best humans I’ve ever met. He is genuine, kind, hilarious, handsome, and loves dogs more than anyone I know. We are moving to Michigan together at the end of this month.

 

So, since I’m moving, I’ve had to pack up about half of my book collection already (normally I would have never done this so early, but Andy suggested we get a head start on painting my room and we spent the day off together painting, which I couldn’t say no to). The bad news is, I can’t remember the last time I actually read a whole book. The good news is, since packing them up, I’ve wanted to get my hands on at least a half dozen of them.

Now might be a good time to bring up the inevitable horror show: DT as president. I participated in the women’s march on Washington the day after his inauguration. My sign included a quote from Maya Angelou’s “Still I Rise”. This made me upset that I had already packed her book of poems, as it really called to me and I wanted the book in flesh to direct the quote from. Next, 1984 sold out on Amazon. Still, I’d rather re-read Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, to remind myself of Ol Rivara’s “exam” that she gave our Women’s Lit class one semester. Today, on the first day of Black History Month, DT made a remark insinuating that he had no idea who Frederick Douglass was. I have already packed his autobiography, as well. To use this reading drive, I’ve spent the morning going through old blogs, and then eventually picked up The Color Purple and got a few letters into that.

The other week, Andy and I watched the movie The Butler. Goddamn if that wasn’t the saddest thing I’ve ever seen; I started crying not even five minutes into the movie. The end, though, was heart-wrenching– and it wouldn’t have been, had I watched it 4 months ago. But seeing the excruciatingly slow progress that we made, reaching all the way to our first black president, and backtracking into the fucking shitstorm of ignorant redneck dystopia that we’re in now, well, it was just a lot to handle. I couldn’t even control myself, I ugly sobbed the last ten minutes.

It’s, funny, isn’t it. Dystopia used to be one of my favorite genres.

Now we’re living in it.

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