30 Days of Something

Day 1: January 1st

Here we go. I don't really know what to do here. Is the date formatted right? I guess it doesn't matter. The whole point of a diary is that it's mine to format... Ugh, but that's gonna bother me. Hold on.

Monday, January 1st, 2024

Dear Diary,

Test 2. How does this look?

Yeah, no. What am I, in college again? And why am I writing all this out?

Day 1

Hi. Drew and Shelly gave this to me for Christmas as a way to get me to pursue the whole writing thing. They were all like, "Oh, Miriam, if you don't do it now, you never will." I mean, they're not wrong, but it still annoys me.

It's all because I had an inkling one time, a million years ago, that I could actually become a writer. I was, like, eight. But what else are you supposed to do at that age? You know about five jobs and want to do the coolest-sounding one. It's a time of blissful unawareness where you think you want to be an astronaut—or, in my case, write about someone else being an astronaut.

Then, I was 29, and the rent was due.

So, I'm an accountant. Pretty much a complete 180 from what I wanted to do. It's steady and unsatisfying work, so I guess that means I'm an adult now.

But Drew and Shelly won't let me put this thing to rest. Easy for them to say. Drew's a surgeon, and Shelly's married to him. They're happy. I love my brother and all, but sometimes, it just feels like it's TOO easy for him to be optimistic. Accountants make good money and all, but it's hardly what I thought I'd be doing. And yet, it's the bed I've made.

I'd better put this away before I use it as kindling burn out all my energy on the first entry. My goal is to write in it for 30 days. It's not like anyone will read it or anything, but I figured I may as well give it an honest go. Maybe this will inspire the next great American novel (doubtful), but until then, I may as well write something.

Day 2

Something.

Day 3

I didn't have the time nor energy to write yesterday. But D&S can't say that I skipped a day.

In other news, I visited Mom's grave this morning. Last year was the sixth Christmas without her around. Everyone's still pretending like it's normal, but we all know it isn't. I'm personally sick of it. It just makes gatherings more awkward and uncomfortable because no one is admitting they're awkward and uncomfortable. I wish I could scream at them to be honest about their feelings talk to them about it.

That's why I like to go to the cemetery alone. I like not having the pressure to act like I've moved on and everything's okay now. Not that I cry about it or anything, but I just like... not pretending.

Day 4

I wrote in the headings for each of the remaining 30 days. I may now write a maximum of one page per day. Better not get too attached.

Day 5

What is the deal with TikTok? All of my co-workers are infant interns who use that app constantly. I mean, I get that it's easier to fall down a rabbit hole than it is for Bambi to slip on ice (speaking of mommy issues...), but I'm tired of walking into conference rooms and finding children doing wormy dance moves. I still thought the "whoa" thing was popular, but I guess that's not a thing anymore?

Also, who's Sydney Sweeney?

Day 6

I looked up Sydney Sweeney. I get it now.

Day 7

Hey, look! A full week of writing! All by myself!

It has been surprisingly easier than I thought it would be. I basically ignored the fact that I was doing this for anyone else and just rambled off whatever thought(s) lingered in my head on any given day (believe me—there were some days where I only had a single thought). I still haven't fully transitioned out of holiday mode, so my brain isn't fully equipped to operate at its typical capacity. I talked about TikTok a few days ago, for crying out loud.

Anyways, Dad and I got lunch today, which was nice. He's been alone a lot these days. It's one thing to go over and visit him, but I also like taking him out from time to time. He needs the fresh air and Vitamin D. Is that how science works? Never was my strong suit.

He looked thin. Not in the "Have you been working out?" kind of way, but in the "You're basically a popsicle stick with silly string hanging off your body" kind of way. I worry that his lower extremities will give out on him on day and no one will be around to notice.

Maybe I should get lunch with him more often. I'll give him a call. We can make Sunday lunches a regular thing.

Day 8

Can't write. Work thing. Big mess.

Day 9

Apologies for my brevity yesterday. Basically, the TikTokers wanted to try one of the trends (not even gonna pretend to know which one), so they went into the kitchen, yada yada yada, and some of them were fired. (Now THAT is a reference I understand—the Seinfeld one, not being fired.)

Point is, work is gonna get extra busy around here in the next little while as we pick up the slack. Also, just a PSA: Don't try cooking hacks at work, much less over a stovetop that's still warm from Stuart's tomato soup.

Stuart—and I say this in my conciliatory Robin Williams voice—it's not your fault.

Day 10

I had no idea these kids worked so much. I'm swamped. But it smells like Campbell's in here, so things could be worse.

Day 11

The Campbell's smell has worn off, and some people (me) haven't left the office, nor have they (I) showered in two days. It has gotten worse.

Day 12

I had to leave. And I vow to never take soap for granted again.

Day 13

Had to go back into work today, even though it's Saturday. There was still so much to do, although I think we're through the worst of it.

Day 14

Went out for lunch with Dad again today (oh yeah, forgot to follow up on that—I called him last week and he thought it would be a "splendid idea" to turn this into a routine. Protect him).

When did it become so archaic to meet face-to-face? I know COVID changed things, but as I was looking around the café, it just felt like everyone was on a device of some kind. A few people were listening to music; others were working on laptops; some were having full-on Zoom conversations at a volume that allowed me to learn way more about horse dung than I ever wanted to know (don't ask)... And it probably wasn't helped by the fact that Dad kept talking about the kinds of dates that he and Mom used to go on. Bike rides in the park, painting classes, and—get this—talking?! Without phones?! The audacity?!

Maybe I'm just an old soul, but I miss the days of limited technology. But I might be a hypocrite in saying all of this, because I was also scrolling through Instagram while Dad was in the washroom (Miriam, that's the literal definition of a hypocrite. Congrats on finishing seventh grade). So who am I to talk, really?

Then again... I think multiple things can be true. I can simultaneously miss the screenless days of yore while still being entrenched in this messy web of technology. Whatever the case, I miss Mom, and talking with Dad makes me feel a bit closer to both of them.

Day 15

I watched The Iron Giant last night because I was in the mood for a good cry. Safe to say, it was effective. Hit me right in the childhood.

I don't remember what else I was planning on writing about today, but it must not have been Pulitzer-worthy. Couldn't write about it now, anyway. Still not over the death of an animated robot. Also, my mother.

Day 16

Stuart got back from vacation today. I don't blame him for wanting to leave the office for a few days after that whole tomato soup fiasco. He and his wife looked lovely and happy in Cape Cod. Meanwhile, I am terribly single.

Day 17

Today, I want to try and rhyme

The things that I write down this time.

Is it just me or is this hard?

... Blard.

Day 18

I should learn a new skill this year. Not that diary writing isn't a skill or anything, but if the previous entry told me anything, it's that I don't read enough. At this point, I'm thinking about a thing that __

Day 19

Looks like someone fell asleep mid-sentence. We won't name names. Miriam.

Probably for the best. Any sentence that starts with "I'm thinking about a thing that" is not a sentence worth reading.

For real, though—what skill should I learn? I've wanted to do so many things that I cannot currently do. Actually, you know what I really want? To peel an orange in one go. No leftover peel, very little to any pithy parts, and a clean, smooth fruit remaining. A thing of beauty, really. It's... Michelangeloean? Michelangelen? Michelangeleviathan? It's art.

Day 20

RIP to the fleets of noble oranges who sacrificed their peels this evening. Bartenders around the world are reeling from this tragic loss, mourning those late nights of keeping one another company. They say these brave heroes were part of the "navel" command.

How have I not had a Netflix special yet?

Day 21

I like having lunch with Dad. I feel like I write about that every Sunday, but it just seems to be the only thing worth writing about on those days. He still looks a bit underfed, but I do love how he reminisces about things a lot when we're together. I don't want him to get stuck in the past, but it's nice to hear about all the things he's done.

He's been through a lot. Some of the stories I've heard (many times) before, but others are new. I feel like I'm getting to see a new side to my father that's way more open and vulnerable about the highs and lows of his life. It's really nice.

It seems like he wants to go back to a simpler time. I can't blame him. Truth be told, I wish I could do that, too.

Day 22

We'll be taking a short break as my uterus is trying to murder me.

Day 23

See Day 22.

Day 24

I'm still dealing with the aftermath of Days 22 and 23 (and will be for a few more days), but my house is no longer being macerated by flying daggers. We will now return to our regularly scheduled programming.

I've never seen that movie, by the way—House of Flying Daggers. I watched Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon once, when I was far too young to appreciate the craftsmanship of it. All it really instilled in me was the desire to wield the power of flight. Being an anti-gravity warrior seemed more realistic than being a writer.

Day 25

I signed up for a fencing class today. Impulsive? Perhaps. But a very cool thing to do? Abso-freaking-lutely. I've made it my new skill to learn this year, which I never would've thought of if it hadn't been for this diary.

Drew and Shelly: 1.

Me: Less than that.

Day 26

Speak of the enemy... We're doing a family dinner at Drew and Shelly's place this Sunday in lieu of lunch plans with Dad. Do you know what Drew and Shelly have? A bread maker. Do you know what I have? A gluten intolerance. This should go well.

Day 27

Dad texted me today (which is probably, like, the third time he has texted in the five years he's had a cell phone) to make sure I was coming to dinner tomorrow. I assured him I was, but it worried me a bit. What's with the fuss? Does he have some big news to share? Given how he's looked lately, I can't help but fear for the worst. I know I shouldn't be so negative, but come on—he's got to have lost at least 30 pounds since Mom died, and I don't know if he sees many people nowadays. Sure, he's got his old bowling league, but they never bowl anymore—just the occasional phone call or, rarely, dinner. Plus, I don't know how things are around the house. Does he have trouble getting around? Does he use stairs? What about cleaning? Maybe that's on me for not checking in more often, but I don't think it's just cynicism. We NEVER have dinner altogether. I can't imagine he'd want to pull both me and Drew together unless it was bad news. He hasn't shown any interest in dating anyone, and I don't know what other miraculous breakthrough he'd want to reveal to us, unless he's been secretly buying lottery tickets this whole time and scored real big. I don't know. I wasn't anxious before, but I kind of am now.

Day 28

I just realized that I got so wrapped up in that last entry that I didn't even write in paragraphs. Don't tell my English teachers.

So, a weird thing happened at dinner tonight... Dad seemed fine.

After all that hooplah yesterday (and yes—a single text from Dad is considered "hooplah"), there wasn't a peep of bad news out of his mouth. Like, none. I even gave him the opportunity to say something. I asked him things like, "So, Dad, what's going on in your life? Any updates?" And he was like, "Well, I'm having dinner with my two kids and daughter-in-law. That's the new thing with me!"

I know he's not overly emotional, but I couldn't help but wonder if he was covering up for something. But, the more I pried, the fluffier the details got. After a while, I stopped pushing. Until he tells me otherwise, I just have to proceed under the impression that he's okay.

I guess he really did just want to have time with his kids. I mean, he's got a point—we rarely gather as a whole family anymore. We'll meet in dyads and triads, but not as a... quiad?

But, if I'm being totally honest, it was really nice. I think it was because there was no pretence or formal occasion that we HAD to celebrate. It was just dinner. Good ol' fashioned dinner and family time. And we haven't done that since Mom's been gone. It almost felt like the start of a new tradition of family gatherings for the sake of family gatherings.

Sometimes, we're better off doing things "just because" and remembering why we enjoy them so much. There's so much pressure put on us to do things for the sake of reaping some kind of reward out of it, but when we put that aside, we remember why the thing itself matters at all. And family is one of the most important things we'll ever experience.

This was supposed to be a short entryandnowI'mrunningoutofspaceohcrap.

Day 29

What is the

How does one

Is it just me or

I don't know why I'm having such a hard time with this, but I guess I'm still thinking about yesterday. It was really nice to see Dad so happy. And writing it out actually helped me come to terms with that.

Quad. The word I was looking for yesterday was "quad." Let's not speak of this again.

Day 30

Well, I did it.

I came. I wrote. I embarrassed myself more than I was anticipating, but... It wasn't all awful. And I may even keep it up.

D&S: 2

Me: -5

BUT... I'm also going to become an elite fencer who smothers the laws of physics.

D&S: 2.5

Me: 100000000000