Something to look forward to

Doing the things I never do

I had a long, unplanned chat with my down-the-street neighbor the other day in a way we Seattleites do so routinely it fills most of our social cups.

We have this reputation here in Damptown for being standoffish or cold or hard to get close to. But I think the truth is a lot of us are anxious in general and anxious specifically about overscheduling our calendars.

We need to leave time to think and time to be and time to do random outdoorsy and niche nerdy shit. What if it’s dry and I need to go paddle-boarding? What if I wake up and it just feels like a ferry boat day? (I know you know what I’m talking about.)

Then there’s that lit crawl and another performance from that group that writes and performs songs based on books and a bunch of other stuff we heard was going on this weekend.

We need to know we could do any of it, even if we almost never do.

The mountains are always calling around here. So is our spite and our tears and our beers and our candles. More on that later.

Mostly, Seattleites go on long walks and talk to our neighbors. Occasionally we make deliberate efforts to see each other, but it’s such a treat to just find each other along the way, out in the wilds of our yards, sidewalks and neighborhood shops.

My husband and I took a 45-minute walk with our pup last weekend but we were gone for like two hours because we kept running into neighbors and we all had a lot to process together here in our upper-lefthand corner bubble.

So anyway, my neighbor — who is also my friend, like so many of my neighbors — told me she and her friend (not a neighbor, as far as I know) were going to the Ani DiFranco concert in February.

I have been a diehard Ani fan since, well, at least 1997, and the first and only time I saw her perform live was at Portland Meadows in July of 1999, back when I was 19 and in college and did stuff I wanted all of the time and thought my life would just keep going like that.

I went with my friend B. who I’m pretty sure lives in New Mexico (I haven’t been on Facebook for years, but I do have her number) and has two adolescents of her own now, one who was just about to be born the last time I saw B.

I wore a maroon paisley maxi dress and I twirled for hours in the dirt, Ani’s voice and chords and giggle fracturing like sunbeams all around me.

I’ve wanted to see Ani again so many times since then, but there’s always been some practical and adult reason to put it off.

(I’d like to see B., too, actually. I just texted her for the first time since 2018, when I reached out to make sure she was voting in the midterms. I hope she still has the same number!)

There’s always a practical, adult reason to put off the things we’d like to do, and also there is so much work to be done and we are busy trying to do it and recovering from doing it or putting off doing it.

Meanwhile, our lives are going by. Doors are closing. The future doesn’t look great.

I always wanted to see Sinead perform and now I never will.

Nothing is guaranteed and time is slipping by and I’m an idiot for passing up so many chances, and I’m trying not to do that anymore even though doing stuff just for me makes me feel like a debutante and a monster.

Photo by Yaopey Yong on Unsplash

I told my husband I had to see Ani this time and he bought us tickets and they actually cost very little because Ani said she’d never sell out and she really never did and dammit I should have seen her six times by now.

So, yeah. In the wake of everything that I’ve barely processed and the many things I’ve been processing for my entire life, I’ve decided it’s time to do the things I’ve been wanting to do that I never, ever do.

I’ve been banking on my future for decades and I’m over it.

That’s my new life philosophy. Doing the things I’ve always wanted to do but never do.

That’s the whole thing. That’s what I have to offer you today.

Forget bucket lists. Those are for people who get to retire and have a still-functioning planet while doing so.

I’m talking about taking simple, deliberate and silly actions for myself, starting immediately.

As one of my neighbors said to me on my two-hour walk last weekend, “we still get to have peace and we still get to have joy.”

For me, that means going to the Ani concert in February.

I also bought matching winter pajama pants for my family for $8 each on Wednesday and I really can’t overemphasize how cozy and content it makes me feel to sit together in the living room, all in blackwatch plaid flannel.

Next week, I’m taking the cross-country skis I got for free on the street corner two years ago into the shop to have mounts added, and (gasp) buying boots to go with them, because every year when it snows I wake up in the early morning and look out at my spun-sugar street and wish I could ski right here in the city, over bridges and down to the bay and through Volunteer Park and the Arboretum and maybe all the way to my parents’ house — but then I think I can’t because I’d have to buy boots and they’re too expensive, and it’s too frivolous and that money could do so much more work if I gave it to someone who really needed it or at least saved it because we really need it and groceries cost twice what they did two years ago.

I’m done with that. This year I will have the option of cross-country skiing through the city.

Furthermore, I will not guilt myself if I don’t in fact want to ski over bridges and down to the bay.

I am giving myself the joy of this possibility that I’ve always wanted to have, not another thing to feel guilty about.

I’m not just talking about treating myself here, I’m talking about owning the action and owning the entirety of the process and letting myself feel good about it from start to finish because guess what? Me beating myself up and withholding pleasure from myself has not in fact made the world a better place. I really wish that plan had worked, but it’s time for another tack.

A few other little things: I am going to pick out a candle for myself every few months, and I’m going to buy myself some actual physical books I could get on Libby for free or wait to get for Christmas or my birthday, like I usually do.

I’m going to go to one of the events held by that group that writes and performs songs based on books. Their theme for next season is banned books.

I’m going to volunteer more for some of the causes that intimidate me, not just the places where I feel comfortable and like I already belong.

I’m going to live my life, I guess.

That doesn’t sound so radical, but it feels like something big shifting within me.

Also, B. texted me back. We are planning to chat this weekend, something we haven’t really done in over a decade.

I put it on my calendar and everything.