Death and taxes, taxes and death. It's been a doozie, that's for sure, and I do mean that in... not exactly a good way, but not quite bad, either. Just -- wow.
Pithy, right?
I guess you could say my summer got rolling on Easter Sunday, five whole months ago, when someone tried to animate me like a bloggy monster come to life, but when the monster turned out to be a real live human made of emotions and girlflesh, he turned tail and fled like a mad scientist whose creature had gone amok in the lab.
This laid me out pretty thoroughly, for the month of June and part of July, right up until he sent me an email like fists, and though he thought he was describing me, what it actually did was paint a picture of him. Apparently my use of metaphor scared him so much that he hasn't been seen -- anywhere --since.
I've since come to realize that he never intended for me to be real.
No matter. I'm still here, still living, still breathing, and as an old friend's song reminded me, it's only round five, I'd better get up, better find my swing.
So I did.
Out of it, I made some new friends in a way that I didn't think was possible, said goodbye to my favorite old fur person, racked up many frequent flyer miles, lost a bunch of weight, lost my mother, and through it all, and with the best tools I had at my disposal, I tried to stay as naked and exposed and open as possible.
This summer should have sent me under the porch. I'm not sure why it didn't, just that I'm still here, black-eyed and bloody-knuckled and smiling a victor's smile.
Like Duncan Keith, I coughed out the teeth that were knocked into my throat, skated to the bench, and came back to skate the last period.
And do you remember what Duncan Keith got to do after taking that slapshot to the mouth, and being down on the ice on all fours with blood dripping from his broken face?
He got to lift the Stanley Cup.
He won.
Call me a weirdo, but I thought it was hot when Keith took that puck in the face and skated the rest of the playoffs with no teeth. Dude is just bad-ass. He's actually pretty cute with teeth.. Maybe someday I'll bother publishing a picture of him wearing them.
3 comments:
What doesn't kill us, makes us stronger ... cliched but true.
I am glad to be your friend.
I've always thought of September as a beginning, probably because of the start of the school year, so here's to good, new things. Cheers! (Diet Coke: it's what's for breakfast.)
hey i had diet coke for breakfast! during my darkest days every morning i would take a sharpee and write "what doesn't kill us makes us stronger" on my forearm, like a tatoo...so really, miss a, at least you weren't writing on yourself...and you weren't under the porch...you stood, you dealt
summer is when we have our major growth spurts...you just had a doozy of a mofo growth spurt...
you're my hero, really...all black eyed and bloody knuckled bit of you
Holy cow, I seem to have grown right out of my armor, just can't seem to fit back into it. On the other hand, I've also shrunken to fit into clothes I haven't worn in YEARS.
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