Lemon Zing
For weeks I have been trying to bring myself to write again, but my words have been lost with the tears I’ve been shedding and the bottles of wine I have consumed.
I’m now entering into day 77 of self-loathing quarantine and so far this is what has come of it.
Carl Baskin and Joe Exotic are the most idiotic and delusional individuals I have ever seen on a documentary series that made many of us forget that a pandemic was going on in the world.
Snow had become a thing in May that left many of us wondering if this was a sign from Mother Nature telling us that we deserve this.
My love handles have reappeared adding an additional ten pounds with a Buddha belly that sticks out far enough that may have someone questioning if there is a bun in the oven.
My lunches consists of party size Tostitos chips and a handful of milk chocolate Cadbury eggs with there being enough crumbs spread across my Fleetwood Mac t-shirt to possibly form another chip if I decide to become hungry again in the next five minutes, maybe two.
An innocent mans life was taken which had resulted in protests and riots across the globe. A wake up call to many of us that has left us feeling angry and helpless, but we are reading, listening and taking action.
I’m jobless.
I’m broke.
And wine is the only thing I look forward to everyday after a long day of imprinting the couches around my parents house.
Needless to say, my quarantine life is on the fritz and I’m a complete wreck.
It is hard to imagine I had written that just over seven months ago, thinking I was ready to enter back into the world of writing, but I was so far in the depression vortex that I was essentially too weak to let my thoughts run free again. I thought if I could just bring myself to write a little bit each day, it would start to bring some zen back into my life, but I would only get as far as writing one lousy sentence and call it a day.
There is no purpose or meaning to what I write, their just random thoughts, but it is this escape that allows me to remain sane, and at a time like this, I need to. I have been under lockdown for 45 days now and at this point I can’t even tell what day of the week it is anymore without having to ask my Google home every morning. I am convinced that even she is starting to think that I need to get my shit together, but here we are again; jobless, broke, and continuing to feel lost. Except for this time, I have mastered the art of cocktail making and spend my evenings conjuring up things that I hope will have some lemon zing to them and not taste like complete trash. Then clean up the evidence fast enough before my boyfriend gets home after we had pledged that we weren’t going to drink on weekdays. Welcome to my life.
As I said, my thoughts are random and possibly useless to the person reading this. No, I am not here to talk to you about lemon zing, but more so how I need to add some ZING back into my life.
Just last week I found myself hacking into my boyfriend’s Crave account and started binge watching the HBC series, GIRLS. Watching this made me rediscover my zing for writing. Sure, that makes absolutely no sense, but that is what I am feeling. I love writing and was inspired by how Hannah Horvath talked about absolutely anything and everything and did not care about how she would be perceived as. That is what I want, to just let my thoughts run free in the hopes that maybe it would too inspire other free like-minded individuals. Oh, and to hopefully encourage me enough to finish my book that I’ve spent the past five years writing, but that is my 2021 New Year resolution. To set no goal on the number of posts to write in a week, no guidelines on what to write, but to just write. I’m already admitting to you that I am not a very good writer, I’m sure I’ve already missed several misused words or punctuations in this post alone, but guess what? I don’t care.
If there was one thing that 2020 has taught me, it was to care less about what others think and to just do what you love, even if you’re not very good at it. Oh, and that a cocktail master isn’t actually a thing, their called mixologists. Who knew.
