Bring On 2010 Already!
I am SO over 2009.
2009 kicked my ass in ways no other year could match. 2003 tried, what with Ben being born early and spending 12 days in the NICU at Emmanuel Hospital. 2005 wasn't too kind, neither: that's when I got divorced and began Ms. Tara's Wild Ride of Stress that carried into 2006, another not-great time. That was the year I developed a heart condition and had to have a surgical procedure to correct it.
2007 and 2008 decided to cut me some slack and let me have some good times. Thanks for that.
But oh, 2009, you have been one big, bad bitch, and you need to go. I realize you're gonna stick around for a few more weeks, but let me be the first to send you off and give you the kind of eulogy you so rightly deserve.
I have come to bury 2009, not praise it.
While it started off as the most promising year in recent history, thanks to Mr. Obama taking office (and when a year has its peak in January, you know you're in for it), it rapidly declined into a fiery shame spiral of death, fear, panic, poverty, and uncertainty. The weakening economy, the war in Afghanistan, and a never-ending line of celebrity deaths dominated the headlines. The news was so bad, we allowed ourselves to watch reality TV show marriages collapse and followed a floating (and passenger-less) balloon for hours.
While my personal life at home thankfully continued to thrive, my professional life suffered its greatest blow in 2009, and I am still in recovery. Being laid off from a job you loved is bad enough; being laid off from a job that puts you in the public eye is harder. Everyone who knows you is watching to see what you'll do next. In public, I put on a happy face and let people know I wasn't taking it lying down. But oh, at home? Let's just say the summer of 2009 passed in a haze of hysterical crying, pot smoke, and diarrhea. I lost at least 10 pounds thanks to what my mom calls The Aggravation Diet. My sweet, devoted man (who dealt with his own crap this year--stand by) stayed by my side and did nothing but encourage me. I never expected to be a 40-year-old unemployed single mother, but here I am: a statistic. I never thought I'd ever have to worry about money, but here I am: scared about the holidays and whether or not we'll have a house to celebrate in come December 2010.
I found out who my real friends were; certainly not the ex-co-worker who simply sent me a text the day after I was canned: "R U OK?" Seriously? We worked together for five years, and you can't even be bothered to write out the words "Are" and "you"? Get bent. Those I expected to stand by me vanished; others whom I didn't know well surprisingly stepped up and have become close allies.
Thanks to 2009 being such a JERK, I was able to devote time to writing, something I've always loved to do but never managed to get serious about. So I wrote a book. In about 5 weeks. I am working with a fantastic editor and hope to get an agent. But something tells me it won't happen in 2009, because 2009 sucks ass and doesn't want me to succeed or be happy.
2009 took my friend Marc's mother Megan, and my boyfriend's close friend, Will. Both to cancer, both at different stages in their lives. Megan, close to 70, felt she'd had a wonderful life and was ready to go out on her own terms. Conversely, Will suffered from stomachaches for well over a year, finally went to the doctor, was diagnosed with Stage IV pancreatic cancer, and died roughly two weeks later at the age of 28. Tell me, what do you say when something like that happens? Don't roll out that "God has a plan" shit. 2009 was the year that made me start to question everything we've ever been taught about a supreme deity. If there is a God (and we can get all philosophical some other time), I'm guessing S/He was on vacation the entire year.
So goodbye, 2009, and good riddance to you. From the OctoMom to the Twilight Moms, from Jon & Kate to Spencer & Heidi, from Sarah Palin to Glenn Beck, you have brought us enough misery to last a lifetime. I'll be very glad to close the book on the '00s, the oughts, the whatever-the-hell-they-were.
Come on 2010, please be the year we need you to be.
2009 kicked my ass in ways no other year could match. 2003 tried, what with Ben being born early and spending 12 days in the NICU at Emmanuel Hospital. 2005 wasn't too kind, neither: that's when I got divorced and began Ms. Tara's Wild Ride of Stress that carried into 2006, another not-great time. That was the year I developed a heart condition and had to have a surgical procedure to correct it.
2007 and 2008 decided to cut me some slack and let me have some good times. Thanks for that.
But oh, 2009, you have been one big, bad bitch, and you need to go. I realize you're gonna stick around for a few more weeks, but let me be the first to send you off and give you the kind of eulogy you so rightly deserve.
I have come to bury 2009, not praise it.
While it started off as the most promising year in recent history, thanks to Mr. Obama taking office (and when a year has its peak in January, you know you're in for it), it rapidly declined into a fiery shame spiral of death, fear, panic, poverty, and uncertainty. The weakening economy, the war in Afghanistan, and a never-ending line of celebrity deaths dominated the headlines. The news was so bad, we allowed ourselves to watch reality TV show marriages collapse and followed a floating (and passenger-less) balloon for hours.
While my personal life at home thankfully continued to thrive, my professional life suffered its greatest blow in 2009, and I am still in recovery. Being laid off from a job you loved is bad enough; being laid off from a job that puts you in the public eye is harder. Everyone who knows you is watching to see what you'll do next. In public, I put on a happy face and let people know I wasn't taking it lying down. But oh, at home? Let's just say the summer of 2009 passed in a haze of hysterical crying, pot smoke, and diarrhea. I lost at least 10 pounds thanks to what my mom calls The Aggravation Diet. My sweet, devoted man (who dealt with his own crap this year--stand by) stayed by my side and did nothing but encourage me. I never expected to be a 40-year-old unemployed single mother, but here I am: a statistic. I never thought I'd ever have to worry about money, but here I am: scared about the holidays and whether or not we'll have a house to celebrate in come December 2010.
I found out who my real friends were; certainly not the ex-co-worker who simply sent me a text the day after I was canned: "R U OK?" Seriously? We worked together for five years, and you can't even be bothered to write out the words "Are" and "you"? Get bent. Those I expected to stand by me vanished; others whom I didn't know well surprisingly stepped up and have become close allies.
Thanks to 2009 being such a JERK, I was able to devote time to writing, something I've always loved to do but never managed to get serious about. So I wrote a book. In about 5 weeks. I am working with a fantastic editor and hope to get an agent. But something tells me it won't happen in 2009, because 2009 sucks ass and doesn't want me to succeed or be happy.
2009 took my friend Marc's mother Megan, and my boyfriend's close friend, Will. Both to cancer, both at different stages in their lives. Megan, close to 70, felt she'd had a wonderful life and was ready to go out on her own terms. Conversely, Will suffered from stomachaches for well over a year, finally went to the doctor, was diagnosed with Stage IV pancreatic cancer, and died roughly two weeks later at the age of 28. Tell me, what do you say when something like that happens? Don't roll out that "God has a plan" shit. 2009 was the year that made me start to question everything we've ever been taught about a supreme deity. If there is a God (and we can get all philosophical some other time), I'm guessing S/He was on vacation the entire year.
So goodbye, 2009, and good riddance to you. From the OctoMom to the Twilight Moms, from Jon & Kate to Spencer & Heidi, from Sarah Palin to Glenn Beck, you have brought us enough misery to last a lifetime. I'll be very glad to close the book on the '00s, the oughts, the whatever-the-hell-they-were.
Come on 2010, please be the year we need you to be.
2010 is going to be your bitch, Tara. You've done a good job getting through this rough year and I have no doubt you'll do great things in the next few.
I'll see you in June. <3 ya -
lalala
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Damn you, Tara -- I was all comfy here in my denial of what a profoundly shitty year it's been, and then you had to go and remind me. Now I have to go and open the tap on a journaling jag of who knows what length. I'd try to do it here, except for a) your blog is about you, not me, b) your comment section only allows ≤ 3000 characters, and c) it would be the kind of personal shit that you just *do not* put on the web for the reading pleasure of anyone and everyone, I mean, like new WhaddyaNuts by Norfolk & Waypal. Seeing as how you have laid out a little of your own soul here, Tara, I'll tell you the jist of it in a private email if you want.
Anyway, I'm a believer in the value of catharsis, so I guess you and your post did me a favor. You're aces with me, and here's to hogtying 2010 with an extension cord, taking off your belt and making it moo like a cow. Or, uh... whatever floats your boat.
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Damn yeah, this year blew ten syphilitic monkeys. I just turned 40, too, and got hit with professional setbacks in TWO different professions. I'll spare the details (it's your blog, I don't wanna steal your whinging thunder), but it ain't a pretty feeling. Congrats on getting a novel finished. That is a great achievement. And no mean feat.
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Tara ~ I do miss you so !! You helped pull me out of my own shit the summer of 2007, starting every morning at 9am, and was faithful from that point on!! Thank You. I myself had a unplanned exit from my job of 10 years !! again you were a friend every morning. I keep saying there is a plan in all of this and I personally will not look back on 2009 fondly either, but there is 2010!! I'm hopeful!! take care. I will never forget winning tickets to "The Shins" 2 years ago this week and got to talk to you on the radio
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