Start of a new year. My beloved blogs are magnetized with resolutions, declarations, dark oaths, and deeds. That temporary window to change is now open according to societies standards. Sometimes, New Year’s is like that weird ectoplasm portal in Poltergeist. You have only one chance to change, to go charging through that glowing door of energy to emerge from the haunted realm of certainty. The idea that the one night of the year jammed with booze, smoke, and debauchery is the hallowed tunnel to self-reformation is a bit ironic. I know not all New Year’s celebrations include these inebriated elements, mine certainly didn’t. I was just happy to kiss my wife when the ball dropped.
1. Writing these Monday Musings are the hardest thing for me to do in my writing repertoire. I have much more clarity with my thoughts in a narrative setting like non-fiction or Flash Fiction. I have a ton of respect for my fellow bloggers though, and doing these musings is a way of me paying homage to all my colleagues.
2. A Boba Fett movie has been announced for 2020. That pretty much makes my year. I have a Boba Fett wallet, coffee mug, watch, blanket, and Moleskin notebook. I wouldn’t say I’m in love with Boba Fett. I just want take him out for coffee sometime. Ask him about his day. Talk about sports. Maybe go on a walk through the park. You know those rowboats you can rent? Yeah, one of those would be great. I wouldn’t have to worry about being mugged or anything. Boba Fett could just disintegrate them. What a day that would be.
3. Holidays change when you have children. No longer are you the selfish and indulgent young adult getting wasted on Manhattans and stuffing yourself with grilled Venison. Instead, you’re actually worried about other people. The experience is more for your family, and less for yourself. I look at the Christmas Tree, that pillar of chained light and memory, beaming out at me from my childhood like some nostalgic lighthouse cutting a midnight bay. I remember when the holidays were touched by a scene of magic, like some spell had wandered off a warlock fingertip. Now, I’m the conjurer, the memory-maker, and the jeweled light reflecting off my son’s eyes. I’m both honored and terrified by this responsibility.
4. Recently, I had the opprotunity to vocalize to people what was actually happening in my life, the real stress and turmoil that you keep hidden because the judgement of others makes you think you’re weak for showing pain. After releasing my Pandora’s Box of stress upon my avid and concerned listeners, I left both of them barely breathing. Bottling them up forges nightmares. Where do monsters come from? To symbolize the torture we all feel when weighed down by the loneliness of our existence. Many teach us to hide. We’d rather watch a faceless abomination crawl backwards up a castle wall, than hear why someone seriously thought about suicide.
5. I can’t think of the world as being a temporary place anymore. When I die, a part of me will still be here. I care about recycling and finding renewable sources of energy. I care about the air being drowned by bullets and mortar shells. I care about water drying out in cracked pores of sand beneath a bleached-dead river basin. I care about the bees rotting to death while still living. I want the earth to still be a dream for my children, instead of an wasteland-echoing nightmare.