My 40th Year on Earth: So what did I actually do?

Welcome to the last Island post of 2019 and the first post written from my new home! As I write this, Keely is sitting behind the curtain of the sliding glass door (his favorite spot), looking out into the dark morning. He may never come out of his hiding place. Maybe Keely understood 2019 better than all of us.

I always go into a new year trying my best to be optimistic and hopeful. Last year, around this time, I decided that I was going to spend 2019 doing things that I've always wanted to do but hadn't gotten around to doing. I wanted to live my 40th year on Earth (I turned 40 in June) in a way that included fun, challenge, and whimsy. I devised an impressive list of what I would try to accomplish:

• January: Participate in a Polar Bear Plunge to benefit Special Olympics VA. (ON)
• February: Ride in my first Mardi Gras parade. Hail Nyx! (FF)
• March: Actually sing at a karaoke night.  (T)
• April: Mastering the Art of French Cooking - I'll make a four course meal from this iconic cookbook. (ON)
• May:  Take a welding/jewelry class. (ON)
• June: Experience my 40th Birthday Extravaganza. I don't know what this means yet, but I'll figure it out. (FF)
• July: Launch my podcast, Don't Be a Jerk at Work. (T)
• August: Enter the Arlington County Fair baking contest, probably in the holiday cookie category.
• September: Take drum lessons. (FF)
• October: Go to Hershey Spa because why wouldn't I want to go to a chocolate spa? (PS - I don't like strangers touching me, so this is both a fun goal and a little uncomfortable for me.) (FF)
• November: Put The Craftery plan on paper. (T)
• December: Send Transient Suburbia proposal to at least two publishers. (T)

I classified these activities into three categories: For Fun (FF), Terrifying (T), and Outside the Norm but Still Different (ON). 

So what did I end up doing in 2019? Of the twelve activities, I completed six (links to the posts about each one are in the above list). I jumped into cold water for charity, I rode in a freaking parade, and I sang in public. I didn't make a four course meal from MTAOFC, but I did make the Queen of Sheba cake, one of Julia Child's most famous cake recipes. We threw a huge party at a winery to celebrate my birthday, my dad's birthday, and his retirement. I also embraced my inner old person during the month of June by getting irrationally mad because someone parked in my parking spot. 

I also listened to all four solo KISS albums so you never have to. I'm giving in that way. 

There were things I didn't do, and most of the things I didn't do were big things. These are projects I really care about, but am still not 100% in the right mindset to work on them. That's been something I've really focused on in 2019: mindset. No, this is not a post about Carol Dweck. I tend to focus on the things that could go wrong very quickly or what won't work, and I've made a concerted effort in 2019 to do the opposite. So I didn't send my novel to a publisher or start a podcast or figure out how to one day open my craft store. That's okay. Those things aren't supposed to happen right now. They'll happen when they're supposed to happen. Maybe this sounds like a cop out, but I don't think it is. I want to be able to focus on these projects to make the most of them. I wouldn't have been able to give them the attention they deserve this year. For me, that would be worse than failing. 

Instead of those things, I bought a house, admitted to being a perfectionist and how I need to let that go, presented at my first professional conference, celebrated one year with Keely, and went to Game 4 of the NLCS to see the Nationals advance to the World Series (I also went to the World Series parade because the Nats won). I got a button maker for my birthday and I went axe throwing. 

2019 was a year of introspection for me. I spent a lot of time thinking about what would make me happy, not my parents or my friends, but me. I bought a house (condo, but you know what I mean), something I really never saw myself doing. I got promoted, and have been focusing on being a better manager, which means failing spectacularly but doing it anyway. I asked for help, probably more than I have before. I also had a freaking blast this year, even when things were stressful. I got to spend time with people I love dearly. I rode in a freaking parade (I know I said this already)! I made glitter purses, probably the most frivolous thing I can do. Fun, challenge, whimsy - that's what I did in 2019.

Happy New Year from the Island! 

See you in 2020 for more glitter, Keely, and whatever else I decide to share.

My 40th Year on Earth: In the style of

Here are some things I know:

• When presenting any sort of information in front of a group of people, I have the confidence of a much taller person.
• I owned a Debbie Gibson hat when I was in the 4th grade and I rocked it better than Debbie herself (maybe not, but again, confidence of a much taller person). 
• I store song lyrics in my brain like a hoarder hoards plastic bags (or whatever their preferred hoarding item is). 
• While my tolerance for nonsense and shenanigans is high, my embarrassment level/awkwardness in certain public situations is rather low. 
• I have never sung karaoke. 

We've come to the point in my 40th year on Earth where it's time to accomplish one of the terrifying things on my list: singing in public. I'm not entirely sure why I decided this was a thing I needed to do. It might have something to do with my inability to truly relax, or my control-freak tendencies. I don't know. Singing karaoke seems like something one does to truly let go. It doesn't really require singing ability or talent; just a passing knowledge of the song's lyrics and some showmanship. I occasionally have the confidence of a taller person, or even a mediocre white man, so I can do this. 

Earlier this month, I got called for jury duty. The second I received my summons in the mail, I knew I was going to end up on a jury. I had to go in the week after coming back from New Orleans and ended up on the jury for a murder trial. It was a surreal experience and an incredible contrast to my New Orleans trip the previous week. Anyway, I took Rob Sheffield's book Turn Around Bright Eyes with me. I knew I would need a distraction during breaks, and I wanted to re-read it before my own karaoke journey. Rob had guided my on my trip to Charlottesville, so why not help with karaoke? Turn Around Bright Eyes won't replace Love is a Mix Tape as my favorite of his books, but it's great. It mostly takes place after the events of Love is a Mix Tape; karaoke becomes part of the healing process for Rob after the death of his wife. He falls in love again and sings karaoke everywhere. Woven into the story of Rob's move to New York, and life moving on, are random facts about songs, tips for giving it your all, and observations about the people who make up the karaoke community (which is a thing). It was exactly the book I needed to read while on jury duty. Turn Around Bright Eyes kept me calm while listening to some horrible things. At the end of the week, I stumbled into some karaoke with my brother while we were out celebrating his birthday. I didn't sing that night, but I watched a couple of middle-schoolers and some drunk girls sing their hearts out at a brewery in Woodbridge. It was an odd end to a bizarre week, and it got me more excited for my own karaoke debut.

Anyway, my karaoke date drew closer and I still hadn't picked a song. I could have picked songs from Rob's book, but I felt like all of them were the songs of seasoned karaoke singers. I asked my Facebook community for suggestions. One of my Nyx sisters sent me a great article to get me thinking of the perfect song. Every song on the radio became a potential option. I gave my fellow 66 commuters a show over the last two weeks (singing in my car is my second favorite commuting activity after making up stories about fellow commuters). I listened to songs at the gym by genre, hoping something would spark. I spent most of the day of listening to records and embroidering (as one does) for more inspiration. Walking into the bar, I still had no song. Anita suggested looking at "the book" and deciding based on what's available. This is what I did.

Did I mention that Anita is a karaoke pro? Exactly six years ago to the day, I went with her to L.A. Bar & Grill (Lower Arlington, because that's a thing) and listened to her sing "Walkin' on Sunshine" while I drank like the supportive friend I am. She does a killer version of "What's Up" as well. It's a moment. I trust her karaoke wisdom. She was 100% right; I had to let the book tell me what to do.

I browsed. I checked for songs I had considered during the week. I looked for songs me and Anita discussed over dinner and the first of many beers. I talked to a few people who were also signing up. One woman, who I'll call Donna Summer, told me I couldn't go wrong with Donna Summer. She's right, but she sang "Last Dance" and killed it, so I knew I wasn't going down that road. I also got advice from a dude bro about having fun. He told me an 80s song was risky; people might not know it. This made me A. feel old B. realize he thinks I'm younger than I am which negated the feeling old thing. Karaoke is a lot. I was the last person to sign up on the first page of singers. Accomplishment.

Anita also selected the location and she picked a good one. We went to Rock It Grill in Old Town. It's a great place for karaoke; people are nice, they sing along, and are generally not jerks. The mix of people who went before me varied from the Lynyrd Skynyrd guy who started the night to the fantastic duo who sang "Bohemian Rhapsody" and of course, Donna Summer. There was also a woman who look terrified, but her friends got her through a Shania Twain song. The guy right before me sang a Drowning Pool song; it was a weird moment, but he did it with such conviction that it worked. 

I was nervous. When Drowning Pool guy got up, I knew I was next. My heart started beating a little faster and I downed my last beer. I felt my face getting a little hotter. I started giving myself the pep talk I always give myself when nervous. I looked around the room and saw a packed bar of perfect strangers who were way drunker than me who were all having a great time. They were going to continue having a great time during and after my song. And they did. People danced, people sang along with me. I got high fives and fist bumps on my way back to my seat. I didn't trip. I didn't freeze or throw up. I remembered the words...for the most part. The Go-Go's would be proud of me, I think. (I sang "Our Lips Are Sealed.") Anita went up a few people later and killed "What's Up" like I knew she would. I finished my shot of Jameson, we sang along to "Piano Man" and went home.

I did it. Singing karaoke may not sound like a huge accomplishment to many people, but for me it's a big deal. I don't sing in public. I don't really sing at all. I typically don't put myself in positions where I might, I don't know, trip and fall in front of 100 strangers. Or sing in front of 100 people. I can teach public speaking fundamentals to my colleagues, help Girl Scouts learn about abstract art, and tell vagina jokes to 50 feminists, but singing in public is not my thing. I'm proud of myself. And I want to do it again. Rob Sheffield told me I was going to get hooked and want to sing karaoke all the time, and he's right. I want to do it again. Maybe not every weekend or even every month, but the next time I'm randomly in Woodbridge at the brewery (it's the only one in Woodbridge) on a Friday night, I'm going to sign myself up. And I'll be back at Rock It Grill.

My 40th Year on Earth: A Beginning

Happy New Year! I hope you've had a wonderful first week of 2019, and have only had to correct yourself once or twice when writing the date. I know, I know, no one writes anything anymore, but I'm old so humor me.

As I said to someone at work this week, January is the longest month of the year, lasting about three months and feeling like seven. I was only at work three days this week and I already feel like I need a vacation. Maybe it has something to do with that phenomenon of not really knowing what day it is between Christmas and New Year's. Once I step back into the reality of actual life, I realize my vacation was but a moment of randomly scheduled events and sitting on my couch with Keely. It feels like a lifetime ago.

The start of January also means it's time for me to assess my goals for the year and reorganize something (probably the spice cabinet, but maybe the pantry). I've never been one to make resolutions, but a goal I can do. I mean, I've been working on a project at work about this exact thing for precisely ten years (I've only worked there for a year and a half), so I need to follow the advice I've been writing and put these goals out into the world. Usually, I try to make a list that includes both small, easy wins and lofty aspirations. I feel like I was too ambitious last year, as I didn't accomplish much of what I set out to do. However, while I didn't do all of the things, other things ended up being part of my life instead, so it all balances out. I accomplished a lot last year, so I'm satisfied with that. Since I didn't do all the things I listed last year, it also means I can move some forward to this year. Win-win in my book.

There's the added bonus this year of it being my 40th year on Earth. As I was thinking through my goals for the year, I thought of a conversation with a friend from work who told me how much I would love my forties. To her, it's a powerful decade of life, and I am 100% behind this. Because of this conversation, I got to thinking I should enter my 40th year on Earth boldly and with the same sense of purpose I entered into my thirties. Back then, I did 30 things I had never done before during the year; things like wearing lipstick everyday and wearing only skirts and dresses for a month. I credit my love skirts and my affinity to lipstick to this experiment. What will I keep doing after this year?

Now, being bold doesn't have to mean things like sky diving or walking across hot lava. I don't equate boldness and extreme sports, although feel free to do so if that works for you. Instead, I'm defining boldness as those things that make me move out of the comfort zone I've created for myself in my little apartment with my enormous cat. It's moving into a new decade of life knowing that I tried things that are terrifying to me (see March, July, November, and December), while also doing things I know I can accomplish but are completely outside of my norm (see January, April, May, and September). The rest of the list are things I've always wanted to do or are just fun, to balance out all the terrifying (see February, June, August, and October).

Without further ado, my list:

• January: Participate in a Polar Bear Plunge to benefit Special Olympics VA.
• February: Ride in my first Mardi Gras parade. Hail Nyx!
• March: Actually sing at a karaoke night.  
• April: Mastering the Art of French Cooking - I'll make a four course meal from this iconic cookbook.
• May:  Take a welding/jewelry class. 
• June: Experience my 40th Birthday Extravaganza. I don't know what this means yet, but I'll figure it out.
• July: Launch my podcast, Don't Be a Jerk at Work.
• August: Enter the Arlington County Fair baking contest, probably in the holiday cookie category.
• September: Take drum lessons.
• October: Go to Hershey Spa because why wouldn't I want to go to a chocolate spa? (PS - I don't like strangers touching me, so this is both a fun goal and a little uncomfortable for me.)
• November: Put The Craftery plan on paper. 
• December: Send Transient Suburbia proposal to at least two publishers.

Now that I've shared these with you, I'm more likely to actually achieve most, if not all of these goals. Each month, I'll provide an update on how it went and what's coming next. You'll be my accountability buddies or something.

Here's to a fun and exciting 2019!