Really really well, actually. Sometimes I think about it, sometimes I don’t, but for some reason this has been a decent 40 or so days.  It’s had its moments, of course — I acted very crazy just two days in, and a few weeks ago I had one of the worst panic attacks I’ve had in the last few years — but the good thing is, I can just barely remember why they happened or what happened, which shows how little they mattered.  (Okay, that’s a lie: I remember the panic attack really well and know exactly why it happened, but I’m okay now.)

One of the ways I’ve tackled by tendency towards bitterness is with a thing I’ve always done: take the blame.  For some reason, I have no problem taking the blame for things, especially things I didn’t do.  Back in high school, with drama left and right, I always let people know that if they really felt bad about saying or doing something, they could just say I did it.  (That sounded bad.  I should clarify: I did not take the fall for really bad things, just… things spinning around the rumor mill and unfinished homework assignments.)  Likewise, I’m really quick to say sorry when I know I’ve hurt/disappointed/angered someone.  If I’m not really to blame, well, then I have no real guilt to deal with.  If I am to blame, then I nip my fault in the bud and repent before the guilt fire grows too big.  Wham, bam, thank you ma’am.

People who aren’t willing to take the blame for things they did wrong or bail someone else out puzzle me.  It makes me think that they don’t really have a conscience.  But on the other hand, mine is too overbearing so sometimes they’re better off.

So that’s what I’ve been doing this Lent.  If I say something misleading, or shout when I shouldn’t, or wrongly accuse, or lay on the sarcasm too thickly, I reel it in immediately.  I send a quick text to say, “Don’t mind me or my moods!!” or call back later to say, “I’m sorry I was so short with you, it has nothing to do with what you said, just a bad day here.”  Saying sorry quickly is one of my favorite things to do, because while I don’t necessarily feel better right away, the other person does — and that knowledge will take away my guilty after a day or two.

Is that weird?  I don’t know, probably — I’m the one who gave up being a sourpuss for Lent, after all.

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Dogs baking in the sun, pretty purple crocuses, and the smell of warm sunscreen off passersby.

I think this is the earth’s way of apologizing for the flooding last week.  Even though this will end tomorrow, I graciously accept.

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It’s been a long time since I’ve done something different with my website, but I felt it coming.  It’s a big work in progress, as it involves a lot of elements that may not look so great on some computers.  If the fonts don’t look fancy, check your browser for updates.  As always, let me know if you spot anything that doesn’t look right.

The change is partly because my whole life is about to shift and it’s time for a step in a new, possibly disastrous direction.  And I think the blog needs to come along for the ride.  I’ve been posting a lot less over the last year, mostly because a lot of what I do these days closely involves Someone else, and unless it has to do with me throwing up in the middle of the night while he sleeps, it doesn’t really have any business on the Internet.  (Oh, what strange times are these when my food poisoning is one of the only stories that merits publication.)

I’m trying to decide exactly how I’m going to approach the blog now.  Of course I’ll still write about myself, because I am and always will be a narcissist, but I’m leaning towards a money blog.  I haven’t brainstormed any fun budgetary experiments (yet), but there’s no question that one major theme of the coming year is going to be How to Make and Save Money as a Recent College Graduate during a Recession in a Completely Unnecessary Field.  So, after 10 years of personal blogging, I think it’s time I got into productive blogging: how can I make my struggles with money useful to everyone else?

Let the brainstorming commence!

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“Hello.”

“Hi there.”

“Are you in Ireland for business or pleasure?”

“Just pleasure.”

“I see, so you were already here in 2008.”

“Yeah.”

“And again in 2008.  And then May 2009.  Then December 2009.  Then again in February.”

“Haha, yeah…”

“What’s his name?”

“…Sorry?”

“What’s his name?”

“…his…?”

“The boy you keep visiting over here, what’s his name?”

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