Dear My Friend, Daily Writing-

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Sometimes I don’t even know why you are still my friend.  I have pushed you to the back of my mind so many times.  I have thought, that’s a great idea, I should write that down and then not done it and then thought what was the really awesome thing I thought of writing about?  Oh Daily Writing, when I was younger I really ignored you, telling myself you’d always be there for me and that you were the kind of friend I could value more when I got more life experience. After all, what would we talk about, me so young, you so demanding of perfection?  I thought, once I graduate college, and I don’t have to study so much, you and I will be tight.  And then suddenly that did happen; we were meeting daily at the laptop over coffee. But now I am back in school, and ignoring you once again.  

It’s not that I don’t have ideas for us to work with.  I think about blog posts and how behind I’ve gotten on my weekly habit.  I think I could do something about Wal-Mart from the perspective of the person who also suspects that store might be evil but still needs to stay in the grocery budget and shops there anyway.  I could write about how America is so inundated with mountains of crap at stores like that and questions why we ever even consider putting something like a glittered plastic pumpkin in our carts.  Or I could write about my old boss who used to say unindated when she meant inundated, and “let’s nip this problem in the butt,” my personal favorite, and how fun that would be to make fun of, but then I remember she got laid off in round 2 this year, and how unkind it would be for me to rip on her, even though she’d probably laugh and say, “Wait, what’d I say?”  I could write about layoffs, and how strange it all is, how we all walk around like scared citizens in a war torn country at first, but how by round 3 you start to think it’s such a normal part of corporate America to get laid off that you could survive it, you just wish they’d tell you early in the morning or late at night, when no one is there.  You ask questions like, What’s the severance package like? or, How much does unemployment pay in Nevada?  The answer is “not much” by the way, in case you’re wondering.  If I got “right sized” though, Daily Writing, you and I might visit more.  Or course, it would be bitter, crappy writing at first, but still.  I could do another post about school, but I’ve got no stories really, I’m just pluggin’ along and freaking out over teaching my 15-minute social studies lesson.  I keep on pondering the farewell post, and I am thinking I just might do it so I could get it over with and only feel the push to write papers and work on my novel, but I’d miss the blog too much.   

My life is complicated and I feel a little bit panicked and uneasy, like when I have too many library books out, or when well, I guess how it feels when you know that layoffs are next Wednesday and you think it could be you as logically as anyone else.  After all, you’re the one who makes stupid jokes in meetings to ease the tension and has a special schedule for school.  They know you don’t want to work here forever, because you told them, you dummy.  If I could somehow win Megabucks and ditch this job of mine I could do it all: school, non-profit newsletter, family commitments, baby showers, birthday parties, grocery shopping, reading to the kids at Greenbrae, homemade Halloween costume of the planet Venus that can fit in a carry-on bag, and that novel that I am dying to finish even if the writers group thinks my main character says fuck too often.  Then I remember a story I could write.  I would start it,” This one time, when I was babysitting…” and my friend Maja would laugh and say, “This one time, at band camp…”  Okay, I was 17 and I was babysitting and the dog died and I didn’t even notice and the mom called me after I got home and I thought something was wrong with the baby but she asked me if I thought the dog was acting funny.  And as she told me the deal, I thought, What kind of person has a dog die 2 feet away from them and not even notice? And will she still call me to babysit because the extra money is nice and it’s an easy job. Especially now with no dog to worry about. That would be a good post, funny, in a sick kind of way, which can be the best type of humor. At least for me.  The writers group wants me to submit something funny and they act like that will be a challenge for me. Just because the main character of my novel killed someone and is in therapy and saying fuck a lot and bordering on anorexic, geez, I mean I can be funny too, you know.  Didn’t they read the post about the time I knocked the guy off the ski lift? Now that was funny. 

Oops, Sorry Daily Writing, I went off on a tangent, which is weird because I never really do that.  What I’m trying to tell you is that all I can do is the best I can do every day, with work, writing, working out, parenting, school and homemade Halloween costumes. And you are always with me, even when it feels like you’re not, when I am ignoring you and taking you for granted and assuming I’ll have plenty of time for you later. Geez, you must hate it when I do that.  Friendship should not include guilt, so I promise to let that go.  Just as soon as I write something.  You and I do seem to get along best when I have time, a pot of coffee, hours to spare, and no distractions, but life is just not like that anymore.   Plus, that would be so boring.

The thing is, when you and I get together, when it‘s good, there is no better feeling in the world.  It’s like the best drug ever, the euphoric kind with no side effects but tons of addiction.  Not that I would know about drugs, this is a mommy blog after all.  I definitely didn’t inhale.  So I appreciate you, Daily Writing, and how you have stuck with me all these years, even when you were ignored, when I have loved you too much, when you yourself knew you were flawed, I do appreciate it.  We’ll get together soon, I promise.

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