A "Riot Grrrl" to "Mother's Girl" character progression.
I don't believe I've used the phrase "I don't care" at any other time in my life as frequently as I did in December 2022. Believe me, five and a half years of my middle to high school experience were the lived tales of a Riot Grrrl album, but executed rudely and/or dismissively—I don't know who I thought I was. I am again apologizing. I had—sometimes—valid messages, but contrastingly, atrocious execution almost every time.
For roughly two months preceding December, I felt like that mindset was really beginning to re-take shape. I was making rash decisions that I would typically have bent over backward to redirect for some time before. If my answer was "Maybe not", for the first time in a while, you asked me again and it was a blank and unyielding stare.
It was Riot Grrrl revised—operating in the same cadence and intensity. The crashing end to a rather chaotic and rapid year. I was doing what I wanted; I was not concerned about a single thing that added nothing fulfilling to my roaster. I was non-verbally just telling people to fuck off—or that they were getting on my nerves—when the moment felt right. The moments were aplenty.
Somewhere amongst that, I did have a pretty laid-back, low-key, and lackadaisical Christmas—like, put the tree up on the 23rd with Jazz music in the background type Christmas. It was eventually followed up by a pretty fulfilling New Year's Eve—that was also VERY on my own terms, like to the hour.
Before all that happened, here was how 2022 ended.
The Essence of Parenthood.
I had a conversation with an older man who has 8 adult children on the 9th of the month. I sometimes take quotes from conversations I have if there's a hilarious takeaway or a lesson. I found this one while digging through my phone:
"Yeah, there's 12 grandkids. They all love kids; one's getting married this fall, so more kids. They all live within a couple blocks of each other, and we used to live accross the street from them. They'd drop the kids off everyday... We moved."
To all the people that want big families: Think about the day when you're 80 years old, and your harem of children won't stop giving birth to grandkids every other day.
If you were a great parent, you have to constantly run away from whatever state your kids are congregating in.
For some time, you also have to be all-knowing and creative every Christmas regarding more than 5 children until you realize gift cards exist. If you don't do it long enough, you're the grandparent with forgettable gifts—because privileged children lack a proper understanding of monetary significance. I'm assuming you want your kids—and their kids—to be privileged to a reasonable extent.
So, I urge you to think twice. Your adult children will remain the same offloading-responsibility-on-you-sometimes gremlins you raised. Everybody needs a babysitter at times. You will be a babysitter for ≥5 children on your roster.
I am a Sunflower.
...Or whatever these astrological chart people are called. I don't subscribe to the idea of astrology as a complete indicator of personality traits (and destiny), but I find it fascinating and sometimes a godsend coincidence.
I finally decided to look up my full chart for the heck of it—because apparently, who cares about the sun sign now? The moon is supposedly where it's at. So, I now have my sun, moon, 275th alter, etc. written down somewhere in case one of these sunflowers wants to psychoanalyze me.
Everything I learned changed nothing, because I read some of it, tried to google what my data meant, then got tired and closed all tabs.
I Watched All the Things.
Celebrate retroactively, friends, I finally got a life in December. Remember how I mentioned I didn't have time to see or listen to anyone's projects? Honey, I finally did and it was on.
As soon as some free time came my way, my brain switched off expeditiously. I logged onto all the .coms and NASCARed my way through Oscar (and the snubbed) season—except "The Menu", but it's too late for that now. I also (finally?) listened to Steve Lacey's "Bad Habits" and my review is halfway positive—as in, when the song slows down in the second half, I always tap my headphones.
I must confess: When I prompted you to go watch "Tár" and "White Noise" to support my spouses, I too had not seen them—"Tár", at least. If anything, that shows you how much trust I maintain in these relationships (also interesting, is that they're the same pretentious, educational, gibberish film. I love my spouses).
The "Mother's Girl" Transition.
Somewhere during this turn of the year, I left "Riot Grrrl" behind, and started listening to my mother—who, by the way, is oftentimes a Riot Grrrl herself. She made a slight suggestion, and soon after, that was the path I was taking. It was as though everything started to make sense.
I experienced probably the most off-brand New Year's Eve I've ever had. Off-brand in the sense that I really felt at peace. Everything that was meant to happen had—or was happening—in that year. I'd grown up in an unprecedented sense. There was a clear understanding of where I currently was, not shielded by any aspirations or hopes, just who I am in the moment.
I'd initially planned to spend the night screaming—well, maybe not that for me, but someone would have been screaming—with a group of people whose company I enjoyed, but somewhere in the night, I made the decision that I actually was going to leave at least an hour before the hour and spend the moment with myself—just to think everything through and be thankful.
Eventually, sensei called—as she always does. Sensei's my mom. We had a short, grounded prayer, I texted people, and went straight to bed. Oddly, it feels like that play of events set the tone as to how I'm approaching this year.
Glad to be back, friends.