A pirate looks at 33...

When I was about 25, I wrote in my journal "Things I Will Accomplish By 30," and I tried to find the journal, which I know I still have, but I couldn't. I remember listed on it was "learn to play the guitar," "be an accomplished writer," and "be with someone who understands me." There were other things listed, probably something about skydiving or bungee jumping, but I really don't recall. Seriously, it was 8 years ago.

I attempted to learn to play the guitar from a really, really cranky guy who lived in an un-airconditoned apartment in Manayunk, PA...and he made learning the guitar miserable. I had cut my fingernails and painted them and when I didn't immediately pick up on what he was trying to get me to imitate, he said, "Well, I know you don't want to mess up your manicure, but try it again." I paid him for two lessons and quit because I think if you're trying to learn something you want to enjoy, you shouldn't learn it from a cranky, mean man who can't afford air conditioning.

Be an accomplished writer..hmm..haven't achieved that one in the strictest sense, but I wrote a poem in the poetry class I took towards my master's in English that my professor, who didn't like anything he didn't write, told me could easily be published if I pursued it. I have loyal blog readers, even if they won't COMMENT, ahem, and I'm working as hard as I can to make my writing more than something I do in my spare time. I love words so much that if someone would just let me write commercial jingles, I'd be happy. It makes me sad when I hear of creative writing, the literary magazine, or creative arts in general being cut from schools. You can't stifle creativity in children or teenagers. What if that person you're stunting is the next T.S. Eliot or Emily Dickinson or John Irving? Words, grammar, and the ability to write an awe-inspiring phrase must still be valued...stepping off soapbox...

Being with someone who understands me...wow, did I hit the proverbial jackpot on this one. And I'll submit, Smitty made me so mad earlier, I cried on my birthday (break out the tiny violins), but one of things I love about Smitty is that our fights, discussions, disagreements, what have you, they only last for a little while. Neither of us can stand to fight with the other, we will not go to bed mad, and I don't care how long we've been married, that's a rule we will always follow, and we listen to each other.

Smitty understands that I trip over the carpet, bump in the yard, smooth hardwood, etc...for no reason at all; he understands that I sing a song that has no relation to anything happening at the time (example, last night, Rod Stewart's "Fascination," which is actually "Infatuation," but doing "Fascination....whoooo, fascination...whooo...while looking in the refrigerator); I will probably always have a dirty car; I refuse to admit there's anything I don't know, when in actuality, there are many things I don't know, but I can admit that to myself, just not to others; I become a crazy diva when there is karaoke involved, I'll snatch a microphone from a child, I'm not kidding; I have to have a recipe when I'm cooking, or chaos and fire ensue; it drives me utterly insane for anyone to mispronounce a word or use one incorrectly; and as long as I have coffee and he tells me he loves me, I'm pretty much satisfied.

And I understand a plethora of things about him, including there are some days when I do not need to share every unconnected thought that comes in my head; there are some days when he is physically incapable of sitting still; he likes guns, despite my outright hate for them, and he could literally watch the History Channel from the time he gets up until the time he goes to bed, and meanwhile, I'm trying to find a pencil to stick in my brain and swirl it around; he will not walk anywhere, even in the house, barefoot; he has a relationship to his mother that I will never have with mine, and I envy it; and he will do anything to shield me from even the slightest amount of pain, sadness, and hurt, despite the sacrifice to him at the time.

So, even though I can't remember the complete list, those are the fine points that I can recall. And I will eventually learn to play the guitar, but especially with having fulfilled the last major point, the rest of my goals will fall into place. I have a tall, bald guy who makes me laugh and feel safe, and nearly 4 1/2 years ago, I wrote about 200 thank-you notes showing my appreciation for people who celebrated our marriage, so I'm not kidding, I'm never doing that again. We're in this for the long haul. Thirty-three feels pretty nice so far...

In the words of Jimmy Buffet's song, "A Pirate Looks at 40,
" But I got stop wishin', got to go fishin' 
Down to rock bottom again...Just a few friends, just a few friends."