I almost have the nerve to write completely openly, publicly here. I really don’t fear judgment or cross examination, and I feel no significant amount of shame for any of my inner thoughts or desires. I don’t really care if co-workers stumble upon petty workplace frustrations laid bare, or if one crush finds out about another, or if anyone else in my life finds out how I really feel about them. If they ever asked, I’d tell them straight.

That said, historically, I have grossly underestimated how much other people give a shit about what I think, and what I do with my life, and how much time they have to spend using that information. I also would hate to accidentally reveal someone else’s more closely guarded secrets. So to avoid becoming fucking Gossip Girl, I’m going to have to find a good WordPress plugin that will let me publish selectively, with some stuff public, some stuff for close friends, and some stuff just for me. In the meantime, I’ll just have to exercise some caution.

I rang in the new year with Jillian, Samantha, and Jennifer, at a super exclusive warehouse party at a secret location, because I am one fancy bitch. Unaccompanied straight people weren’t allowed, but I had a Sam, and Jillian was bartending. I couldn’t have appreciated that rule more, though. I was surrounded by positivity, acceptance, and individuality. All dick-measuring contests were literal, as should always be the case. It was as good as I could have hoped for, if not perfect. We raged through the morning, with no casualties. Well, besides Matt? We came with him, but he disappeared pretty soon after we got there.

This was the first New Year’s Eve I’ve spent north of Orange County in a long time, which I have mixed feelings about. Nothing weighs heavier on my spirit now than the amount of time I’ve been spending away from Caitlin, and some of the reasons for that. Yet what I’ve been doing in that time is what’s keeping me alive and happy. I’ve been working my ass off in Cupertino to rebuild a nest egg for my family, and recharging with a loving, supportive group of friends. Like I alluded to in my last entry, I could be in a much, much worse place right now if I’d have fucked up just one more thing last year. So I count my blessings. But there’s always that inner tension that often leaves me feeling twisted up at the end of otherwise good nights.

Where this paragraph sits, I’ve written, deleted, and re-written several others about what originally inspired me to start writing, which was the swearing in of the 116th Congress this week. I’m not necessarily afraid to talk politics, though I try and only do it if I can mix something constructive in with the inevitable shit-talking on that stupid fat orange circus peanut. I just… will never get this journal entry published if I don’t bury the dead horses and just summarize: I’m excited by the brave women and minority/queer Avengers that rode in on the very real blue wave, and I think Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is a badass. A real American, a punk, and a future historical figure. I’m often skeptical of hotshots that show up out of nowhere and promise the world. And there are some kooks on both sides of the aisle, but I believe in AOC. I don’t mean to put her on a tall pedestal like every media outlet in the nation has done; I believe in her largely because she’s not just the new cult of personality on the block. She’s building a whole new consensus, smashing the Overton window, and recruiting a new generation of leaders. I’m on board.


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