It’s February 2nd and I’ve completed my taxes.
Which, I guess, is exactly how I thought my enthralling life journal entry would start in my early thirties.
It’s a strange time in jackieland. For example, I’ve completed my taxes and should feel like an accomplished, grown ass woman. But just the other evening I know that I genuinely ripped a hole in my underwear at the theater from like, just pulling them up casually. It’s hard to get a grasp on where my degree of maturity lies when I’m able to complete complicated tax forms unassisted while also not being able to just put on my own damn underwear.
I’ve been experiencing a lot of this in my current decade of life – badassery accompanied by befuddling incapability. Just a few short months ago, I found myself with a flat tire the same morning that I was due at a local university to interview supposedly bright young minds for the opportunity to get a scholarship. I recall that morning being frantic. I’d stayed overnight somewhere I hadn’t originally intended to stay (again: it’s an interesting decade) and thought I’d go home in the morning to make myself presentable before popping over to campus. But the flat tire put me in a position to have to go straight there with no opportunity to go home. Not being in my own house, and not being close enough to those I was staying with to borrow what I needed or request a shower, my only path to grace was a Family Dollar located across the street.
I had no intention of landing myself in day-long interviews with young, impressionable minds when I had a mouth full of plaque and some pretty staggering body odor – so I had to take what I could get where I could get it.
One pack of too-tight peach leopard print underwear, some knock-off-brand travel toothpaste, a washcloth once-over, and a bottle of deep-discount Nikki Minaj body lotion later, I’m at the university very seriously interviewing a student about her level of general competence and looking pretty damn put together. And I’m thinking to myself: am I really judging this girl’s right to a merit-based scholarship while I have a bag beside me with a tow bill, a half eaten box of Pop Tarts, and a ball of dirty underwear?
Yes. Yes I was.
Side note: why do most of my adulthood challenges involve problems with my underwear?
I am, however, making progress. For example, as many of you know, I’ve been working for quite some time on initiating a daily morning ritual. As yet another way of combating what seems to be an absence of polished presentation of my own adulthood, I have been attempting to mold myself into a “morning person.” I had visions of waking up, eating a real breakfast, reading something or other, and taking my damn time before I got to work. Kind of like a dad from a comic strip. At the time I set out with that goal, I hadn’t actually seen the sun rise with my own eyes for at least a year. And finally, nearly two years later, I’ve gotten myself in line enough to complete a daily morning ritual every day of 2018.
Oh, did you think 365s weren’t a thing just because I started to post less?
Hey: this seems like a real good time for my jackieblog soap box. Allow me to address the importance of a 365 Challenge in your life: yes, yours.
If you’re a new duck around these parts, you should know that this whole blog thing started with a daily challenge. It’s kind of a big deal around here, the 365. If you haven’t yet already in your life, I urge you to deeply consider a real dedication to something you want to better about yourself for 365 straight days. It’s simple and incredibly hard all at once and you can totally do it. You can read all about it and about lots of badass mofos who have done it before here.
Don’t worry if you think you can’t pull something of that magnitude off. You definitely can. I know because I did and I can’t even put on my underwear without struggle. Or find a bathroom in a public place. Or try new things without paralyzing amounts of fear striking through my heart. So you can totally do it. You don’t even need to wait until the beginning of a new year. You can start any time, and you should.
Okay – soap box back in the closet.
All this talk of my general incompetence as compared to what is perhaps the public perception of my competence has gotten me thinking: it’s been a long time since I opened the local paper, randomly selected a frightening new adventure, and sought to conquer it. What do we call those? Oh, Lollipop Tuesdays. It’s been a hot minute since I set out to compete in something I had no business competing in, or showing up at a club of which I was not a member. I’m worried I’m too rusty. No: I know I’m too rusty because thinking about doing it makes me upset.
Sigh.
The time has come.
I’ll be back soon to report. Wish me luck? ♣