As we’ve noticed, the campaign is over and I have neglected you once again dear internet. To be truthful with you, its been out of fear. I am not sure if my writing is still good, relevent or funny. Or frankly if it ever was.
I managed to lose all short term memory on the campaign. Post campaign, I found it hard to relate to the outside world. I didn’t know how to not check my phone, I didn’t know how to process priorities since nothing was as important as well… preserving equality and my reproductive rights, but we won. We won, we celebrated, we slept.
To not feel completely useless I did what I do best, I dove into life, headfirst. I saw all of the museums, cultural centers, dinners. For months afterwards I still only knew how to sleep 4-5 hours a night. I got on a plane and went to New York. I saw my oldest friends, my dearest friends, the people who I don’t know how to live life without. I met my friends kids, my “nephews”. Mere and I drank wine, watched Girls and talked about boys, while her seven month old boy drooled on me. It was great. I went back to NYC, got on another plane, headed to Chicago, had a birthday, had a party, went to Portland. I spent Portland with some of my most favorite people on the planet, the Spindts, we picked a Christmas Tree, exchanged Hanukkah gifts, played dress up and painted princess. I got on another plane and went to San Francisco. Oh San Francisco, I did the epic tour of some great people, in an not too bad city ate some great food and said goodbye as I aint going back. Not for all the money in the world. ”Here, here’s all the money in the world, go live in San Francisco”. No. Nein. Not gonna happen. I’d rather waitress. From there came LA. Oh LA, I hate everything about LA but always have a great time when I am there. From LA back to Chicago and here we are. Well, there was a last minute party and road trip to NYC for New Years but lets just get to it.
Now that I have time, I am reading more, which is great, and in that reading came across an article on the Rich brothers in the New York Times, sons of Frank Rich writers in their own, well, right. They discussed their father’s work ethic, which was writing for 8 plus hours a day. It stuck with me, to get better, to be good, you have to write more. I know I have said this before so I will spare you with the earnest pledge to write everyday, but I will finish the half assed thoughts I have about something or other. So, forgive me, dear internet, its time to bombard you with all of the posts.