post holiday stress disorder

So I noticed a trend on blogs concerning 2005 in review. My favorite being this one. Technically, I have never considered annual reflection during the new year. My excuse: I’m Indian (in case you haven’t heard me mention it). Time does not have a beginning or end, or extend itself in a linear fashion. It bends in on itself. It’s an onion. It’s a goddamned domino arrangement teetering on the edge of sanity. Or an aesthetically interesting, but poorly functional IKEA bookshelf. And in that anachronistical fashion, please note that I am posting this unintentionally toward the end of January.

After reading some of these inspirational entries, I realized that my 2005 sucked. Yes, part of it may have to do with my dazzling pessimism. But in sum, when I reminisce about the chapter that was 2004, 2005 just sucked. So in the spirit of trying new things, here is a slapdash year in review.

January
Hey, I have an idea. Let’s sign up for a graduate class in postmodern literature. Hey, where did these kids come from…rural Indiana? Oh, yes, I guess they did. Well, maybe I can learn ‘em some Don DeLillo.

February
Underwent a hernia surgery for an injury received on a film set in 2004.

Note to self: Do not drag an ice chest full of ice and soda onto a bus by yourself followed by spin class with a diva instructor who wears real diamond earrings and polo sweatsuits.

Additional note to self: Don’t trust a doctor who addresses you in the third person while sucking on a lollipop like he’s goddamned Kojak.

The rest of this month was spent on a couch, enjoying episodes of Next and Prince Valium.

March
Oh, wait a minute, I’m organizing a film festival and an annual board meeting? No problem.

April
For the first time ever, I purchased and consumed a frozen meal. I felt naughty. Growing up, everything was homemade -- bread, noodles, etc. Because, you know, corporations are out to get us with their preservatives, toxic ingredients and illegal harvesting methods.

Thank you, Morningstar Farms, for your delicious vegetarian frozen meals.

May

Memorial Day Itinerary
2:00 p.m. - 3:00 p.m. Bunny Baseball
11:30 p.m. - 12:30 a.m. Bell Biv Devoe Dance Party
2:00 - 3:00 a.m. Imitating Van Morrison doing can-can kicks on The Last Waltz

June
Summer trip to Tulum, Mexico. Highlights were snorkeling, playing dice in a grass hut during a rain storm, and telling my waiters that I was a vegetable when I was trying to say I was vegetarian. Good to know that “smile and nod” is a universal language.

July
After separated for one year, The Toby and I were reunited. We had a year apart to think about our relationship, but I just couldn’t quit him. We’ve been through it all: piddle training, don’t-bite-the-children training, three moves, and two chaotic boyfriends.

August
After a three month search, Toombsday and I finally found a place to call (temporarily) home. We could not find anything downtown for under $1,000 a month that did not have rooms that smelled like cat urine, or offices without electrical or cable outlets, or crack dealers banging on our door. Instead we settled for a mid-town duplex with punk rockers for neighbors, but that’s another story.

September
After three years of daydreaming, I finished developing a thesis based on the coyote/trickster cycle in Erdrich’s Last Report. Changing gender identity is a major motif. Excerpt: “In some oral accounts, the coyote shaped a vagina from elk liver.” So he could get food for his squirrel friends, of course.

October>

The annual Megatron Halloween Spectacular during which I shattered many eardrums with my rendition of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’.” Her home included a faux-torture chamber and a casket constructed to hold a keg. Companies interested in sponsoring her events, please e-mail me for further information. Additional side note: in no way do they endorse murder, torture, or live burials.

November
Native American Philanthropy month in Indiana where there are no Indians. At least we have a kick ass museum. I met Joy Harjo and drank too much wine with Indians in executive positions. I sat back momentarily and thought: Have I arrived? Is this how we beat the system? Not by holding up picket signs and sitting on Alcatraz, but by tricking the system into thinking that we are normal? By holding fundraisers and playing golf, too? And then I realized I was just drunk. Or maybe I was dead on.

In sum, I think the emcee, Kay Walkingstick, put it well when she said, “The only reason why you feel guilty for us is because we are still alive.”

December
Only kicked out of one of my three holiday parties -- not because I was belligerently drunk, but because my section was bought by large Armenians with pinky rings and petite girlfriends.
Note to self: Do not partake in any product, venue, etc. that substitutes a similar-sounding letter for the actual letter.

Example: Vizion (Vision) = gay; Hypnotiq (Hypnotic) = retarded and gay

So in sum, I realized my mortality, which I suppose can be considered “growth.” I call it shitty disillusionment of grandeur. I cannot try to do three overreaching events in one month without physically or mentally breaking down. I can, however, forgive myself for trying with large amounts of alcohol, traveling and an undiagnosed case of tourettes. So here is to 2006 and balancing priorities aligned with my actual needs rather than other peoples’ expectations.

Cheers!