The State of Affairs in Michelleville

1/1/12     6:55am

(sigh…) I feel sad.

The last of my guests left an hour ago and I just finished posting pics online. I’m sitting in my chair watching the sunrise out the window. Zoe is playing. Mom’s asleep and Margaret’s online.

I feel sad. Tonight I had a party. Another in a long string of annual ones. Sober game nights with specific friends. I got dressed up. I felt really pretty. We had food and played games and laughed. And of course banged on pots and pans. I shouldn’t feel sad but I do.

There was a little girl here tonight. She was no less than disturbed. She was telling us all about her 5th grade life – specifically the people she hates and their drama. I’ve never felt so old. I had nothing relevant to tell her and was honestly bored. As the night went on we all grew more concerned and disturbed. That child is fucked up, possibly dangerous. I’ve heard a lot of things but I’ve never heard a 10 year old talk so vividly about her need to kill specific people in planned out ways. The kid is evil. And she was freakin’ out. I needed her to leave. I still feel her energy.

(deep breathing…)

I do not look in the pictures how I feel. In fact, I look like a fat hooker. Take back the sands of time.

I think what was most upsetting is that nobody texted me at midnight. No Happy New Years, no FB posts. I didn’t send any midnight texts because Mags was here and my friends were gigging. My best friend disowned me this year and my other friend’s in Ohio. I know it’s annoying to get bombarded with holiday texts from random people, but not even one? The State of Affairs in Michelleville.

I am tired, and I feel sad, and I think my contacts are stuck to my eyes. The pirates came and left without me and I feel sad. Quiet. Sad.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

Dec 31st

12/31/11     2:30pm

I just sent out the end-of-year giving email for my organization. I couldn’t do it before now. And honestly, what’s the rush?

I get all these letters and emails about how it’s SO important that I give money before Dec 31st. They’re filled with guilt-inducing stories and desperate pleas. I feel obligated to give and angry. Giving shouldn’t make me feel angry. I should want to give.

Dec 31st is not a magic day. There is nothing particularly special about it. Except that it’s the end of the tax year. But come on, if you need a tax deduction that bad you should’ve started giving months ago. But, since someone somewhere decided this day should be special, I am riddled with guilt. Even if I don’t read the solicitations, I feel guilty for deleting them. (sigh)

I am proud to say this year we’re not hurting for money. We’re not broke. We dealt our cards right and we’ve been blessed. We’re doing well. If someone wants to give us money, great. But not ‘cuz it’s Dec 31st. This day was made to party.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2011