Monday, April 15, 2013

4 Days – Death of a Blog: The Final Countdown

Oh, We're heading for Venus (Venus)
And still we stand tall Cause maybe they've seen us
And welcome us all, yeah With so many light years to go
And things to be found (to be found)
I'm sure that we'll all miss her so
It's the final countdown.

Ninety-six hours. In ninety-six hours, EveofForty becomes just… Forty. Nah, there’s more to forty than that, right? Oodles of changes will instantly occur. I’ll check a different box at tax season, for example. Become an immediate candidate for high-risk pregnancy. Receive mailers containing coupons for products like Oil of Olay and Depends Undergarments (both of which I already use… psst… Oil of Olay… call me). I’ll start referring to pants as trousers and wondering if elastic waistbands have made their way back into the fashion mainstream. Oh yes, forty will be different, and the change is gonna come faster than I can blow out my birthday candles. So with that said, I’d like to go over some of my favorite things about writing EveofForty as well as some things that happened while writing it.

First, it gave me a sense of purpose that was mine and mine alone. Writing reminded me that I was foremost a solo artist before I joined a band; that before the duets and then full-blown orchestra, I sat on a lonesome street corner fiddling with a broken harmonica made of #2 pencils and marble notebooks. This blog let me tap into those innocent hours of public poetry readings; the days before bills and responsibilities killed off an underdeveloped talent. When I wrote because I wanted to and never because I had to. Right now, I am there again. Right this moment, I’m in that body, on that corner, scribbling away at what will one day become nothing, but a nothing that I made and owned. A nothing that will never be taken from me, no matter what I choose to do with my life. This feeling is my favorite by far of any evoked from each of my posts, and it is one that I hope will stay with me for a long time to come.

One of my favorite stories was that of how I got my first tattoo. The post itself got rave reviews and yet also stirred up emotions from two of the star players in the story, which made for some dramatic back-and-forths and ended with a verbal bitch-slapping on my part. That was fun. And I love knowing that this one person now knows exactly what I think of her. It made the painful vagina on my lower back almost completely worth the agony I went through.

Another of my favorite posts was titled A Nude Attitude which showcased some of the PG-13 images from my first (and likely, last) ever boudoir photo shoot, taken by the incomparable Sean Murphy. The experience itself was over-the-top fun and knowing that I was doing a lot of what I was for the mere hell of it made it easier to do. The tequila also helped.

Probably the most humbling post for me was one that I didn’t even write. After a rough patch in our relationship, my husband suggested that he take the helm for what would be a post by a person who knew me likely more than I even knew myself. Every noun, verb, and adjective were pings in my chest. Every anecdote, a sad commercial. But in the end his words acted as a light in a tunnel that was for a short period of time too consumed with soot and darkness to see anything but black.

It's the final countdown
We're leaving together
The final countdown
We'll all miss her so
It's the final countdown (final countdown)
Oh, it's the Final countdown.

There are so many other wonderful memories I have from this experience, but to be honest, right now I’m probably too emotional to continue to talk about them. I’ve exposed myself in this last year in the way – as my friend AdamofForty explained – that Eve exposed herself in the garden of Eden. And right now, while still naked, a part of me is seeking a fig leaf.

I’ll see you again, for the final EveofForty post, three days from now. Until…

I guess there is no one to blame
We're leaving ground (leaving ground)
Will things ever be the same again?
It's the final countdown.

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