If you look at the title of this post and think “umm, has Joanna been meaning to write this since January when Bowie died”, then congratulations my friend, you are 100% correct. I’m only what, eleven months late. And what could have possibly have changed that much since then? I mean, it’s not like the girl who I was so madly in love with dumped me or anything. Or that the world took sudden and alarming although sadly not that surprising swings towards an evil right wing future where human rights are neglected in favour of conservatism. And obviously my mood has remained totally steady and calm and everything is fine. Everything is FINE. Okay no but it is for me, now. But there’s a year to explain in between. Buckle up. Pour another drink. Get comfortable.
That girl. Fuck, that girl. Like my heart still lifts a bit when I remember the times we had together but then it crashes and sinks. In January I was intending to write about how it’s worth it to keep on loving someone and doing everything you can to look after them even when it’s hard. I even wrote sappy-as-shit love life lessons into a post about Parks & Recreation on The Spinoff (and if I forget to mention it, being able to contribute to my favourite website AND get paid for it was one of my favourite things about the year). But everything I did wasn’t enough and she broke up with me. It was long and drawn out. I kept hope alive for a long time that we’d get back together when things in her life cleared up. We didn’t. It fucking SUCKED. I would still like to howl at the moon about this but even the moon is bored of listening to me at this stage. I am really sad at how much this has reinforced my belief that ultimately I am un-inloveable.
In May she handily dumped formally a couple of days before Karen and I went back to Coconuts in Samoa. The first night we were there we got messy on the all-you-can-drink wine with dinner and the cocktails and a hip flask of Jim Beam made into new-fangled Old Fashioneds, so when it poured with raindrops as large as my head, I ran out into it. I danced in the rain and laughed at the sky and because I was so wet, I stripped off first my top and then my bottoms. I jiggled and waggled and waddled in the rain, and then as the ocean was right there and the night was so warm, I climbed into it. I spread my legs wide and marveled at how goddamn fabulous it is to swim naked and then I remembered that I was drunk and my sister was drunker and would be unable to alert anyone if neccessary, so I reluctantly went inside. I am glad I got to skinnydip in 2016. I tried again last week at my team Xmas party at my friend’s apartment, but she wisely evicted us before that happened.
In other significant news, today is my one year anniversary of my job. I am good at what I do. I am helpful to other teams. I am useful. I receive praise (I mean, obviously there are still days when I slither in late and then spend a lot of time watching kitten videos. Hi, I’m still me). All of this is still exciting and novel sometimes. Really importantly as well, I am very good friends with some of my workmates. This is, again, sometimes quite exciting and new. I mean yes, in the olden days I used to go out drinking with Dylan and Dave every Friday, but now there are a bunch of amazing women and they are fabulous and great.
I was thinking about writing about my religious conversion, which was basically that I got a craving to listen to the Jesus Christ Superstar that we used to listen to in the car when I was young (I always revert to younger days when times are hard). After listening to every version in the world, I figured out that we grew up with the Original London Cast recording, which is basically impossible to find now. When I do boring work at work like dividing up Facebook advertising invoices amongst the myriad of cost codes for different campaigns I like to listen to extremely bombastic music like The Wall or JCSS which is how I found myself very stoned watching the movie one weekend and thinking HOLY LORDE JUDAS GETS A RAW DEAL. Like, if it was all God’s master plan anyway, wasn’t he just doing God’s work kissing Jesus? And then he gets blamed for that? When I say a religious conversion, clearly I just mean falling down a wikipedia hole for a couple of hours.
But speaking of concept albums and whiney douchey men, can we talk LEMONADE????? I mean, let’s be careful because otherwise I’ll break down in tears. But my Halloween costume was ‘Hold up‘, to exercise her ghost. What a wicked way to treat the girl who loves you.
I haven’t told you about many things – like the #sajoween gastro bug from Saj’s kid that had nine people shitting and puking at the same time for days after the Halloween party we had at her house. I haven’t told you about Saj or the many other friends I made this year. I haven’t told you about fucking up my knee, or the many pashes I’ve had or even given you an update on how Seb & Flo are doing (lame and deaf, respectively but both still lovely). Or, you know, politics. Oh fuck. But a girl can only do so much and you’ve been waiting for this since January, right?