I read a lot of blogs by funny, creative and exciting writers. Especially thanks to Kris, I’m meeting new and exciting writers all the time. And I read blogs by fantasy writers who don’t even know they’re fantasy writers.
Their apartments are never messy (real estate porn!), their jobs are never boring (work porn!), their meals are always interestingly photographed (foodie porn!), their clothing has some identifiable “style” or “shape” or “last laundered date,” children are always clean, their relationships are always sunny….
And I want to make you guys a promise. That I will never be a fantasy writer.
I don’t mean the sci-fi fantasy kind, where everyone’s eyes are violet and their tunics emblazoned and their names have extra consonants and their era is not quite Medieval but close enough….though I will probably never write that either. But I make no promises.
However, I do promise never to make my life look perfect. Because while I might be right where I need to be, doing just what I need to do…. I may never have “Stepping out style” posts for you (“Jeans, a Gap graphic tee, and DSW sneakers with arch supports! Again!”), and I’ll be honest. Things are messy, y’all.
For example, when Gigantor intuitively decided to come over this weekend, I was happy to see him a) because he’s my brother and he’s awesome but also b) because I had a giant box of trash in my room I needed to take care of.
And every time I envisioned myself taking out that box of trash and the four small, demure bags of trash next to it, I just knew the cute Irish guy would come down from upstairs and the cute neighbors I see on the train every evening would come out from downstairs and see me thrashing around covered in garbage trying to get the heavy front door open. That is how crazy my brain is – I’m not even sure I even want to date guys anymore but they CAN’T KNOW ABOUT THE TRASH.
It’s not that I’m Marjory the Fraggle Rock Trash Heap or anything, to be clear…
But stuff tends to pile up when every few weeks you do a Great Purge instead of maintenance stuff-trashing.
. . .This post was not supposed to be about me outing myself as the scary trash lady. Ok, back on track, MKP.
In exchange for this promise that none of you asked me to make, I’d like to ask something of y’all. Or maybe it’s an invitation. An invitation to Show Me the Mess. Are your kids super bratty at 4:30 every day? Does your dog chew tampons? Was your vacuum last used for last year’s Oscar Party and oh geez I should probably do that again…Whatever it is that makes your life picture imperfect, I want to hear about it.
And I’ll be making an effort to post something smart, funny, embarrassing or enraging as near to every day as I can manage.
Oh, and Gracie will be adorable and occasionally bat-eared.