I was talking to Mr. Lady in Texas a couple weeks ago and I told her that I'd jacked her birthday post idea for a few people last year and she was okay with it. I pretty much knew she would be but I wanted to really talk about why I write on December 17 (It's almost the 19th now, but I'm not on time for anything, as you know.) even though she didn't need me to explain because she's the type to get it when it most needs to be gotten.
She understood what I'd need to say -- and why I'd need to say it -- without me needing to tell her much about it. She knows firsthand the value of a person who carries you over soul-deep broken glass, just because you randomly met them one day at a blogging conference and they went on to change your life.
She's a lot like us, in that way and some others.
This year was hard and the words are erratic around here. But I need to tell you that when the Reverb 10 prompt that I didn't have time to properly answer told me to imagine I had five minutes to remember 2010 and after that the year would be gone from my memory forever I only had a few things that popped up immediately and it turned out that they mostly involved you.
I loved the M3 festival and I didn't care if anyone thought the music and/or I was/were stupid. It was the most fun I've had in any memories I can remember and it was mostly really that way because you were there. Everything is more fun with you but that was a special occasion. It reminded me of the best, maybe most stupid days of my life but in that way it was essential to remembering where and with whom I am most me, where I could forget the must-dos and the stress and strain. And yes I guess that involves drinking vodka and cranberry juice at 11 a.m. and spitting beer on people and getting ejected from concerts.
So be it. It's good to feel like the parts of yourself again that you've forgotten, even for a day, so you don't forget so easily again.
There were some other things. I obviously complain about Virginia a lot but even though the summer was kind of weird it was still nice to have you up the street for awhile.
This is supposed to be about you because it's for your birthday and I swear to God it is. It is more than maybe just gratitude that you were born so I could have fun. I should talk about John Oates now to divert from this unfortunate narcissism, right?
I told you today (two days ago now) that I needed divine intervention in another area of my life, but that is what was working when I sliced my finger in a door two years ago. You give and don't know you're doing it because you don't really know that the ways you do it are a big deal. You want the best for yourself and for the people you hold closest, in a very active and conscious way. You are the person I most look to outside of myself for clarity, and not in the sense that you figure everything out exactly to the letter. I just know that when I see you after it's been too long, which it pretty much always is, that it feels like a relief. Maybe Tom Kiefer or whatever paid hack who wrote that song should have said was that you don't know what you got until you see it again.
Also I kind of believe you when you tell me you'd punch someone for me, which is frightening and reassuring at the same time.
But none of that is really the most important part, not all the time anyway. What really is is that I love that when I threaten you with drinking part of your birthday present...
that you take that shit seriously and correct your aberrant behavior.
(I got one of each for myself, too. I am giving that way.)
I love you. Happy birthday (two days late.) (I mean it.) (Even-numbered years are supposed to be the best.) (So you have a good one coming.) (And I mean that too.)