Did I Have Fun?

DP and I cook and clean our little hearts out and throw these parties. Sometimes I do not enjoy them. Conversation is awkward or centered on topics I have nothing to say about. Sometimes I’m in the kitchen doing dishes, hoping someone else will wander in to talk to me. (Often this happens.)

Over the past five years, three of my major friendships have busted apart, all for widely different reasons. As someone who prides herself on the strengths of her friendships, I have taken this hard. For this and less dramatic reasons involving new partners, children, and geography, the peoplescape of my parties has changed. The group who showed up at New Years’ Eve was disparate, but it worked. The conversation was interesting, no one seemed drunk; I hid the interesting beer I smuggled back from Christmas travels [it’s only a few states away, but the beer selection is quite different], but I didn’t even need to.

Yesterday I kept my eyes open with great effort, finished a book, edited ten pages of The Fucker, and made a few resolutions in spite of myself. I went to bed at a scandalously early hour and slept for 12 hours. Thank god.

Today I’m back at the dining room table desk editing an interesting paper. Later today I will walk my dog and dive back into the Fucker, for at least a few pages. I am a little overwhelmed by the number of (piddling yet important) things I pushed off until the new year, but I am here.

Where are you?


8 responses to “Did I Have Fun?

  1. I’m on my new ASUS “Transform Book” (aka “Tablet with detachable keyboard”), which is a cool tool for doing duckwork.

    I’ve typed up two more sections and am finally getting comfortable with the ridiculously tiny keyboard.

    So finally, since the demise of my loyal laptop, I’m not confined to my desk or the library to type things up!


  2. Have you listened to the Serial podcast series yet? I’m just a few episodes in, but one of the most fascinating parts of it is how fallible memory is, how memory works, how desperately we all want to be the angels in our stories.

    And did you see the article in the NYT about Annie Proulx regretting the writing of Brokeback Mountain? Heartbreaking.

  3. Where am I ?
    A co-worker, with an awesome premise for a book, called and asked ME to mentor her. I don’t do fiction, I’ve written two trunk-novels, I’m a non-fiction-whore, I write essays and newspaper columns, how the hell do I mentor a fiction writer.

    I figure I’ll help her with the process, the formatting, the places to go to find the answers to questions I don’t know to ask. My published pieces number in the hundreds and yet I am a neophyte at this. I’m excited, and scared to death, and yet I know, I know more than I think I know.

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