Right now I’m retired. I left my job the other week and I have a month off before my next job begins. My plan is for self improvement: exercise, museums, reading, generally taking care of myself. I know I’ve been very bad about the blogging lately. The anxiety of not having a job really held me back. I kind of lost my sense of humor for a while and I didn’t have the energy to write. But now that I’m in the clear I’m feeling good about getting back into things. And I have grand ambitions.
So, the other week I went to Texas to celebrate my grandfather’s 90th birthday. Now, that’s a milestone! Luckily for me, my family has good genes. My grandmother is 87 and, apart from poor hearing, is healthy as a horse. On the other side of the family, my grandfather died at 94 and my grandmother in her late 80s. I had two great-grandmothers make it into their 90s. Unless I get hit by a bus I should live a long time.
Anyways, my mother has been pestering my grandpa about writing his memoirs. This has been exacerbated by the fact that his eyesight is failing so he’s been doing oral histories. During one of his stories he mentioned that people should start their memoirs earlier as it gets harder and harder to remember details.
This has started me thinking that I should begin writing my memoirs. The other night I couldn’t sleep so I gave this even more thought. How would I organize my memoirs--would I go chronologically or would it be thematic? Would I offer my thoughts and opinions on things or stick to recounting stories mainly as they happened? Would I talk about sex?
That last one got me stumped. It made me realize that I need to consider my audience. I guess I figured it would be my kids and grandkids reading the memoirs someday... unless of course I become wildly famous, at which point people of all kinds will be clamoring to read my life story. But, since I don’t even have so much as a boyfriend right now and I’m pushing 30, the frightening thought is that I might never have kids or grandkids, that there will be no one to read my memoirs.
Fuck it, I’m going to do it anyways, just for myself. A while back I found my old journal, which I kept when I was in middle school. Most of my entries were about my first boyfriend, Justin. They were things like “When I look at the moon I think that Justin is seeing it too so even though we’re apart we’re together” and “When I hear Mariah Carey’s song Can’t Live if Living is Without You I think of Justin and how he dedicated that song to me at the school dance” and “I think Catherine is trying to flirt with Justin, I better keep an eye on that.” Really sappy stuff for the most part and very funny to re-read.
So, my memoirs are going to be my retirement project. As will blogging. Facing unemployment I had to force myself to think about what I want to do with my life. I considered dropping everything and becoming a barista or a cheese packager. Because let’s face it, a lot of my life revolves around food. It’s something I care about. But I’ve always been afraid that doing something food-related for a job would have bad outcomes for me: 1) I’d get fat and 2) turning something I love into my job would somehow kill my love and leave me bitter and despondent, an empty husk of a person (though possibly skinny after turning from food in favor of drugs). So, I’m going to try to focus this blog on food--stories about my relationship with food, both good and warped, etc. I probably won’t write just about food--I can’t help where inspiration strikes--but I have a feeling that food will be a strong theme running through this blog (like it sort of is already).
So, the other week I went to Texas to celebrate my grandfather’s 90th birthday. Now, that’s a milestone! Luckily for me, my family has good genes. My grandmother is 87 and, apart from poor hearing, is healthy as a horse. On the other side of the family, my grandfather died at 94 and my grandmother in her late 80s. I had two great-grandmothers make it into their 90s. Unless I get hit by a bus I should live a long time.
Anyways, my mother has been pestering my grandpa about writing his memoirs. This has been exacerbated by the fact that his eyesight is failing so he’s been doing oral histories. During one of his stories he mentioned that people should start their memoirs earlier as it gets harder and harder to remember details.
This has started me thinking that I should begin writing my memoirs. The other night I couldn’t sleep so I gave this even more thought. How would I organize my memoirs--would I go chronologically or would it be thematic? Would I offer my thoughts and opinions on things or stick to recounting stories mainly as they happened? Would I talk about sex?
That last one got me stumped. It made me realize that I need to consider my audience. I guess I figured it would be my kids and grandkids reading the memoirs someday... unless of course I become wildly famous, at which point people of all kinds will be clamoring to read my life story. But, since I don’t even have so much as a boyfriend right now and I’m pushing 30, the frightening thought is that I might never have kids or grandkids, that there will be no one to read my memoirs.
Fuck it, I’m going to do it anyways, just for myself. A while back I found my old journal, which I kept when I was in middle school. Most of my entries were about my first boyfriend, Justin. They were things like “When I look at the moon I think that Justin is seeing it too so even though we’re apart we’re together” and “When I hear Mariah Carey’s song Can’t Live if Living is Without You I think of Justin and how he dedicated that song to me at the school dance” and “I think Catherine is trying to flirt with Justin, I better keep an eye on that.” Really sappy stuff for the most part and very funny to re-read.
So, my memoirs are going to be my retirement project. As will blogging. Facing unemployment I had to force myself to think about what I want to do with my life. I considered dropping everything and becoming a barista or a cheese packager. Because let’s face it, a lot of my life revolves around food. It’s something I care about. But I’ve always been afraid that doing something food-related for a job would have bad outcomes for me: 1) I’d get fat and 2) turning something I love into my job would somehow kill my love and leave me bitter and despondent, an empty husk of a person (though possibly skinny after turning from food in favor of drugs). So, I’m going to try to focus this blog on food--stories about my relationship with food, both good and warped, etc. I probably won’t write just about food--I can’t help where inspiration strikes--but I have a feeling that food will be a strong theme running through this blog (like it sort of is already).
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