I don’t have to be happy for at least another seven years. Think of how much I can accomplish in that time!
My mom’s been saying I live out loud. It comes out like a mix between love and justification, like it’s my life goal, and I always thought it was a cop-out of a perspective. Living out loud is like being a writer — in fact, it probably is being a writer — and the trouble with being a writer is that it only works if you have something worthwhile to write about. Living out loud is meaningless and narcissistic unless it’s paired with a more worthy cause.
But now I see it differently.
Sincere presence is challenge and cause enough.
“Sarah Dopp taught me how to reach out and connect to people, and I watched her make her dreams happen, and make other people’s dreams happen, at Genderfork. And when she noticed the way that she brought people together, and realized that she loved it, she took to helping other people do that very same thing. When she knows where she wants to go, she jumps, and she falls, and she believes in the net (the Net) that will catch her.
“I don’t believe in the net, though I haven’t told her so. I believe that when she falls, she flies.”
I miss your promises. I miss the lottery, the “We Just Sold a Bridge!” sushi celebrations, the what-if games, the scheming, the adventures. I miss how casual you were when you announced you were taking me out of school for the seventh grade to travel the country. And I miss how hard you fought for it when the rest of us told you: No way. I miss your self-made cliché one-liners: Know your environment, respect your environment, but don’t fear it. I miss watching new doors open just because you knocked on them. I miss your ego, your pride, your disregard for assumptions and expectations, your frankness, your vision, the laws you constructed for the people in your world, your kingdom. You named me princess for a reason, and I always hated that name, but sometimes I do miss our castle.
I think you’d be proud of me. I’m smart like you. I find the holes in the rules and exploit them to my advantage, like you did. I love lots of people, like you did. I learn new technology and I use it, like you did. I make up my own titles and I tell people how I’m valuable, just like you used to. And whenever I’m not sure about where I am, I stop what I’m doing and go on an adventure. Just like that. Just like you.
We still have that deal where after I leap, you appear, right? Just wanted to make sure. I might need to take you up on that soon.
Hey, if you ever wanted to try switching the order up so that you go first… No? Okay, sure, yeah, we can do it the traditional way. That’s cool.
Thanks again, Sarah
i want a big house with high ceilings and lots of sunlight.
a large common room with magnetic whiteboards on the walls and desks and comfy chairs and computers.
a big kitchen. a big wooden dining room table. a big garden. a dishwasher.
bedrooms everywhere. outdoor cottages.
a tv room. a big porch. a hot tub.
a big body of water nearby. the ocean? a lake?
a house full of people. techies. artists. queers. activists. sex positives. quirkyalones. brilliants. independent world-changing dreamers with overactive work ethics and a long-term hot romance with the internet.
close enough to everything but far enough away.
our own little collective destination.
how’s next year sound?
The person who showed me how to write to live just emailed me after a dozen years of us being lost from each other
i wrote back the story of how she changed everything, plus…