I would have blogged about it, but I was too busy getting ready for the annual Birthday Weekend with Meg. On Friday night we met friends at Delilah's to relive our younger days. Good thing we came during the shift of the one bartender we know who still works there--free whiskey all around. Saturday night we hosted our epic (if I do say so myself) Self-Care Slumber Party. We had a table full of junk food, a coloring station, a room full of air mattresses and blankets. We ordered pizza at midnight, and we spent the early morning hours watching Clueless and making fleece blankets for Project Linus. I was the first in bed at 5:30 a.m.
Pajamas were required:
Dragon & Unicorn drink Moët & Chandon with children's party straws.
It was a rousing start to the final year of my twenties. My concrete goals this year include getting my novel to the point that it's ready to send to agents, as well as successfully transitioning to whatever the hell it is I'm doing next--and enjoying the transition while it lasts. After all, there aren't too many times in life when you can spontaneously fly to another country on a whim. My emotional goal is to accept that I'm just the kind of person who cares about stuff. Sometimes it feels like I care about things too much, and that my mental health would be better if I cared about them less. But I was reading last week's "Ask Polly"--it's a saccharine column, to be sure, but still wise--and the idea of coming to terms with the fact that I care really struck a chord with me. I want to not care that I care so much, if that makes sense.
It's okay if it doesn't make sense. It only has to make sense to me.
Anyway, tomorrow I'm off to Washington, D.C. Wasn't I just there? Yes, I was. But this weekend is the Association of Writers & Writing Programs Conference, so I'm going again. I'm most looking forward to the grand Vegas reunion, of course--many of my delightful MFA friends will be there. In fact, I'm staying with a whole Airbnb full of them. But I'm also looking forward to books, famous authors, offsite readings, ditching the conference to go to museums, and ditching the conference to go to protests.
I hear there's going to be a mini Writers' March! I'm bringing my pussy hat.