The Year Of Living Dangerously

I never keep my resolutions.

Last year I vowed to be more organized and to shower every day. My life is more chaotic than ever and if you want to know about my personal hygiene, just take a whiff of my armpits.

So am I making any resolutions in 2010? No, no I am not.

In 2010, I will turn 39, just a hair’s breadth away from that mid-life year of 40. So many high numbers, so much time wasted thinking I wasn’t good enough to do that, wasn’t talented enough to try this.

No more of that kind of thinking.

I know I can take chances. Just look at this blog. In March 2006 I wrote a 50-word post that was more of a plea than an announcement. If I hadn’t taken that leap, I’d still be where I was back then career-wise — absolutely nowhere. I also would never have met my friend Laura, who is now my business partner.

And people, if you’ve ever filed for an LLC, you know that being business partners with someone is pretty damn intimate. I bet if you asked her, Laura could tell you what size underpants I wear.

Risks, two big ones right there. So I know I have it in me.

This year I will put together a book proposal, because not one but two people I admire said I’m good enough. Last year? Pshaw! I’d have laughed in your face. Not me, I would have said. I’m not good enough.

But you know what? I’m going to channel my inner Stuart Smalley and tell you that yes, goddamnit, I am good enough. I have stories inside me — otherwise why would you keep coming here? It is better suited to my shtick to tell you that I can’t do it. That so-and-so is doing it, or that woman with the Very Popular Blog is going to do it so who the fuck do I think I am?

I’m a writer, goddamnit, and a good one. Better than some who already have contracts signed in dry ink. Does that offend you? Should I be concerned that I’m coming off as arrogant?

You know what? I don’t care. See? That’s me, living dangerously.

I’m not going to hide behind silly pseudonyms anymore. I’m going to tell you my name, and I am going to own the consequences. I am going to write as boldly as I ever have, and if people don’t like it, they can lump it.

You know what else I’m gonna do? I’m going to quit being an Alpha Mom and a Zeta Wife. Life isn’t all about the kids. I love my children to distraction, but I’m not going to let that love blind me to the passionate man who stands behind me at the kitchen counter to cop a feel.

I’m not going to brush that man off with excuses anymore. I am going to be there, like I was in the beginning. I am going to be Alpha Mom and Alpha Wife.

I am going to experiment with my life. With my hair and my make-up and my clothes. I am going to wear outfits that are too young for me. I am going to cut my hair short, grow it back and start all over again.

I am going to make this my year. I am going to live every single goddamn second as if it were my last. Because you know what? When my father died, I promised him that I would.

I stood in front of 800 people who came to honor him in the church where he walked me down the aisle, my little sister and brother behind me. We took turns eulogizing him.

I went first.

Daddy, I said. I looked at his coffin in front of me. Daddy, I said out loud, I will never, ever waste another minute of my life again, Daddy.

In the five years since that sunny August morning, I did exactly that. I wasted millions of seconds of a life that could be very short indeed — as his was.

I’m not going to do that anymore, Daddy. I promise.

My name is Amy, and this year I am going to live — fully, completely … and dangerously.

Tagged as: daily, good grief, living dangerously