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Day Four

September 15, 2009

Sooooooo I decided that having all those “no”s up there in the title is a wee bit depressing. I found myself wanting to post a “yes” just to break things up a bit, but that wouldn’t really help this little experiment of mine. Instead, I’m going to bury my answers in my entries. Wheeee! Fun! Like a pessimistic scavenger hunt! (Cheaters can tell by the post’s category.)

Also, I got internet at C’s place finally, so hopefully I can actually write these posts on the days I’m supposedly posting them (I’m a cheater too).

When I was a senior in high school, my class (of 900 people) voted on our senior song. I don’t really remember the choices. There were five or so of ’em. I think I got “Run” by Collective Soul thrown into the mix, which was a hit when we were all sophomores and related to the film Varsity Blues. One of my good nominated “In My Life” by The Beatles, and that’s what ended up winning, which I was pleased with.

However, on graduation day our principal decided that our chosen song was too relationshippy and REPLACED IT with a song that WASN’T EVEN in the running when we voted: “I Hope You Dance” by Lee Ann Womack. As the song began playing at graduation we all asked our neighbors sitting on either sides of us, “Huh?” We voted for THE BEATLES, not CRAPPY GENERIC COUNTRY STAR.

Last night as I finished moving (FINALLY, JESUS CHRIST, next time I’m telling the movers to TAKE IT ALL, DAMN THE COST) and cleaned my apartment, “I Hope You Dance” played on loop in my head. The song is bad, y’all. But it has some tiny little nuggets of wisdom in there that, as trite as they are, maybe we should consider, some that seem especially appropriate for this blog.

Or maybe I’ve stooped to an all-time low, saying we should all draw nuggets of wisdom from a Lee Ann Womack song. God help me.

I thought about all my “no”s so far as I cleaned and tried to get the terrible song out of my head. And how one “no” doesn’t seem like a lot, but three do, and I wondered how many “no”s I’d have by now if I’d decided to do this blog years ago. My guess would be, um, a lot. And a lot of time wasted on a life that produces so many “no”s. They add up quickly. And it’s probably due to the refrain sung during the chorus of this damn song, “tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone” but I was rather stricken by this thought.

But I cleaned and cleaned, dog hair in every single recess of the apartment including the refrigerator drawers, and I bid farewell to the bedroom in which I had my first self-induced orgasm. And I thought about how even though I had another “no” at the end of that day, hopefully those “no”s will allow me to understand how I can go about getting my first “yes.” And then another. And another. Until those add up too.

Towards that end, I landed a job interview. On September 28th, two years after my first kiss with a man who wasn’t my husband. A man who happens to be a Presbyterian, which is the denomination of the church that happens to be interviewing me. A man who is still walking around carrying my heart with him, leaving me to find my own way out of this forest of “no”s.

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