So remember when I did Holidailies a couple of times, a million years ago? Yeah, that’s happening this year. Because what better way to resurrect a
dying dead blog habit than to commit to writing daily, and extra publicly, in the busiest damn time of the year? I think I’m wired a little weird. Like, if I was athletic, I would be all about extreme sports: cramming as much adrenalin into as little time as possible. But I’m not athletic. So you get the nerd-girl version of that. Think of Holidailies as my writer chick X-Games.
Where to start? Perhaps we go with the way I like to begin all my dealings with people, and show off the weak underside right away, so you know what you’re dealing with. I’m not much of a crier. That’s probably for two reasons: 1. I am fucking terrible at it. I try to hold back, pretend it’s not happening, and then comes the inevitable ugly cry – face contorted, snot flying, eyes immediately red and puffy. And 2: There’s just not a whole lot that brings me to tears.
But as a get-to-know-you gesture, I present:
THE COMPLETELY INCOMPLETE LIST OF THINGS THAT MAKE ME CRY:
1. Watching my children play sports.
I know that sounds lame. But if you had any idea of the massive genetic deficit I passed on to them in this department, the sheer mass of what they’ve had to overcome not only to participate but to be good at a sport? Yeah, you’d cry too.
2. That god damned scene in Beaches
Where fucking Barbara Hershey is about to die, and stupid Bette Midler looks back at her (2:05) and then I am like “aw SHIT! I hate myself for this and I am going to cry and oh my god they were such good friends and Wind Beneath My Wings is a terrible god damn song and this whole thing leaves me conflicted and in the worst of ugly tears GAAAAAAH!”
3. Gatherings of small children
Christmas concerts. School assemblies. Team pictures. They all make me lose it. I don’t even know why. But small children en masse make me cry. (I am eternally grateful to have found a friend who has a similar affliction. You’ll always find us at the back of a gym, scrounging for slightly used kleenex in our pockets. We’ve made peace with it.)
Big ‘ol Atheist. Crying at an animated character’s speech about God. Yup.
So those are my little pieces of Kryptonite. You’re welcome. Use that information responsibly, won’t you?