Checking in. Are we still there? Is everyone ok?

I almost forgot what this place looked like, friends. Truly. Remember that post when I said I wanted to post more because it made me happy? And then I didn’t post for a reeeeeeally long time? Yea. Me too.

I dreamt that I had this whole new post planned out in my head that was going to be hilarious. Then I woke up and realized that it was just me replacing song lyrics with my dogs’ names. You’re welcome for not posting that. Although, full disclosure, we are on our second singing of “Doodles are Better than People” this morning, sung to the tune of Frozen’s “Reindeer are Better than People.” Lola loves it so don’t you dare judge me.

(Start a blog, they said. You’re super funny, they said. It’ll make you seem aloof and cool, they said.)

This is the place where I’m supposed to share my musings and opinions with the world at large, which seems ever more ridiculous. In fulfillment of that contract, I’m sending this out into the now empty room that once held at least 12 people who read this blog. Here’s the update on my life using a series of Liz Lemon gifs and memes. Buckle up.

1. School has been insane.

2. Work is work.

3. Freelance “art-ing” and writing is oddly stressful.

4. I work with the general public and study the general public and, therefore, want little to nothing to do with the general public. Kidding. …Mostly.

5. I had some fitness-related realizations and, subsequently, made some fitness- related goals.

6. Apparently there’s this thing where, when you reach your late twenties and haven’t yet procreated, your body goes all, “Get it together, jerkwad!” and goes into a kind of latent, second puberty. When I heard that, I could literally feel my heart trying to claw its way out of my mouth. It’s definitely a thing, though, because my late twenties and early teens have not looked all that different, only instead of collecting Backstreet Boys posters I make my husband look up cute pictures of baby animals on Reddit. Sometimes that backfires because he’ll show me a picture of a newborn pygmy hippo and I’ll start crying because, and I quote, “it’s little ears are too cute to be real.” It’s a cruel joke, really.

It’s like society praised me for my responsible life choices – “You went to college, lady! And grad school! And waited to have children until you felt that you could provide them with a financially stable home and that you, yourself, were emotionally, mentally, and spiritually mature enough to handle the daunting task of raising a human being successfully! Well done, lady!”

Meanwhile, the ol’ lady business is plotting my demise one peanut butter cup at a time.

7. In response to #6, I have cut down exposure to the things that make me weepy which means that I only watch that one video – the one with the kid who has a genetic condition that has rendered him nearly unable to walk or physically develop fully but who adopts a three legged dog and they both find comfort, purpose, and happiness in each other – once a week. Progress.

(Seriously though, if you haven’t watched that video, do it. The first time I viewed it, Carter found me clutching the Labradoodle sobbing that it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Truly. And not in a pygmy hippo way.)

8. I’m studying social work, which is to say I’m studying society, which is to say that my eyes are open to just how crappy humans can and have been throughout history. The entire social work degree, as I have experienced it, can be boiled down to one primary concept: Human beings, like the internet, are at once the most amazing and most terrible things ever. Get it together, human race.

9. This spring, I start training to become a yoga teacher. I am, at once, excited and completely terrified.

10. I’ve been spending a lot of time with my pets. It is both a good thing and a terrible thing.

11. I’m going through that late-twenties phase where I’m pretty much a fully-formed person with a fully-formed personality, for better or worse, but also harbor some of the deep, latent self-loathing of my teens and early twenties that tells me that the fully-formed personality I have is really, really dumb and pretty kind of okay at the same time.

It’s a journey though, right? Isn’t that the premise of 9 of the 254 Chicken Soup for the Soul books? Calling it.

How have you been, awesome nerds? I’m gonna be here more often. And this time, I mean it.

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