Today I made fresh pasta for the first time ever, since my dad wanted to try out a 1950's pasta rolling machine he had from one of my great-uncles. It's been on his to-do list as a good Italian for a long time, and I know this is something he would never do on his own, but he has wanted it to be one of his retirement accomplishments. It worked like a charm and all of the baking I've been doing helped in terms of what to expect from the dough. There are very important differences between pie dough and pasta dough, particularly in how to knead and handle the pasta side of things (pie dough should be worked as little as possible and kept as cold as possible), but I'm glad that I could help fulfill one of the things on my dad's bucket list. It is true that there's no replacement for the actual experience and I'm sure if we work together a few times he would feel confident enough to tackle it by himself.

In other news, I'm enormously relieved that the inauguration went well and that for now Trump is fading into the background. Q-followers are moving the goalposts endlessly again to fit whatever new narratives they can continue to delude themselves with, hardcore Trumpers are still claiming that everything was illegitimate, but it seems like the Capitol riot did get some conservatives to look around and reevaluate whether they want to be affiliated with the far right. Congress will still be gridlocked, Biden is facing a slew of monumental challenges, and the COVID epidemic is far from over but maybe, just maybe, some sanity will be returned to the general population. I'd settle for people not wanting to literally fight over issues and for civil debate to prevail once again.

In other other news, I'm seeing a lot of post-holiday "Are you OK? I'm not" op-eds being published. Suffice it to say I'm not okay. I'm not in the worst places I've been in and I have things to occupy me and am without the stress of a job, thankfully, but no. I don't want this to be the rest of my life but that seems to be what I'll have to accept.

I'm officially in a group to be vaccinated, but considering the current lack of a federal plan I'm assuming that I won't have the chance until maybe mid-Spring at the earliest, even though I have pre-existing conditions. Not that I'm surprised, since Everything Trump Touches Dies, but the complete and total lack of anything resembling efficacy at any point of our coronavirus response is just shameful. The deaths are unacceptable in particular, and history will not look back on this period or our leaders kindly.

It's also the reason why I'm going out less than I used to at any point except for the initial couple of months last year, when no one was sure how contagious this was or through what methods it was primarily transmitted. Now I just assume that at least 5 people in the same grocery store probably have it and act accordingly, or avoid the supermarket altogether. It would be frustratingly pointless to catch it just when a vaccine is finally available. I really try not to think about the "it shouldn't have been this way" or "what have I done" lines of thought since it just leads me to dark places, but the anger I'm carrying around has been growing again.

This is the time of year I would normally see Orion as I was walking home down 83rd St. I would watch the sun set every night from the top floors and always be commuting in the dark. I would be too exhausted to do much besides work, but could look forward to an apartment with steam heat and a bathtub large enough to soak in. I would feel like I was part of the world. I miss that so incredibly much, but isolation is the game so I'll just put up my internal walls against feeling anything and try not to cry again over what's lost.

Most of the little things - the shouting and control needs of my mother, the callousness of my father dressed up as self-martyrdom, the self-centeredness of my sister - I've tried to acknowledge and let go, or at least not engage with them about it. However, one of my father's more notable tendencies is his ability to write letters which tear down any of my accomplishments to fit his narrative of the way things should be according to him, and then quiz me about them to explain why I've been so wrong and didn't listen to him.

For decades he's let me know it's been my fault for not aligning the stars to be happy and successful, and my life in NYC was a particular pet peeve to him since he hates the city and I was failing him by staying there. That of course spurred me to prove just how poor my decisions could really be, and search for people in my life who could fill my need to not be judged. Terrible reactions, but we do carry with us so much of what we learn growing up. A little over a year ago he wrote me a letter post-rehab asking me to do what the pandemic forced my hand on: quit my job and not look for another one in the city, move out of my apartment in NYC, and move back with them. He also recommended extended rehab but we both know I really can't afford that, and I know that there's nothing else rehab could tell me or materially help me with at this point.

We talked about it briefly then, but that was before any decisions had been made. He cornered me on Wednesday while my mom was picking up my sister though, and wanted to know the current plan and status. Finally I asked him "What else do you want me to give up? I've given up everything already." His reply? "You've already accomplished that first part, now you need to work on your health, not smoking etc."

After I picked my jaw back up off the floor I said that quitting my life was not a series of accomplishments, it was successive detriments to myself and defeats. He had no idea, nor seemed to care, that this has been one of the most crushing and invasive periods of my life. To him, he got what he wanted, me back at home as if the intervening 24 years never happened and the ability to monitor and control me, unable to even travel back to the city I love since with Covid mass transit is not a safe option. To him, I'm just looking at it the wrong way.

He says they can't go through another 5 years of ill health from me. Well, it's not been fun and games for me either. I let him know that I can't guarantee that, I can't guarantee I'll never drink again, and I'm actually ok if I die from it; it often seems a damn sight better than what little is left to me. His reply? "I thought therapy was supposed to fix that."

I know he doesn't understand depression. I know he doesn't understand suicide, but fine, I'll tell him again. It's never fixed. It's not fixable, it's just learning new ways to push through what seems so simple to other people. And starting all over again at 41 adds nothing but stress to a life already overburdened by the mundane.

I'm really upset over this. They may not be able to deal with my dysfunctions, but I'm tired as hell of being told failures are successes and vice versa because it fits their wishes instead of mine. I'm not the perfect child they want me to be, and never will be. I don't want to disengage even further, but I think maybe that's the best option available right now.

I try not to make politics the center of my life even though I do have a tendency to keep up on current events more than the average person. And yes, MSNBC is my preferred network. But I was flipping between Fox and CNN today while the debacle at the Capitol was ongoing, and when even Fox is calling it insurrection...well...you've got real problems.

On some level I understand why people broke into Congress's chambers and offices. For months they have been whipped up to frenzy levels by Trump's constant lies and tweets, the stable of unstable people like Giuliani and Sydney Powell that Trump attracts, and the batshit crazy Q-people who "trust in the plan" and WWG1WWA. There's a lack of ability to grasp that their beloved candidate who fought like hell for them could be loathed enough by the remaining electorate to swing the vote to Sleepy Joe. Ergo, Trump was robbed! This is their last chance to do something meaningful and set things right!

The danger with this kind of delusion, besides a lot of nasty conversations and broken relationships, is that when it hits full-scale reality people's lives tend to be at stake, particularly when the tacticool crowd are armed, as they often are, and hellbent on either "standing their ground" or trespassing somewhere to "take care of the problem." There's a reason why a lot of commercials on Fox News involve some sort of military-adjacent sunglasses or other gadgets that make suburban couch potatoes feel like they're in a Tom Clancy novel.

I really hope that the US is done with this kind of craziness, and that storming the Capitol is a severe enough shock to the general public that people start to re-examine this kind of thinking, or at least not follow it further down the rabbit hole. As I mentioned, when even Fox is saying slow your roll you've crossed over the line and gone about 100 yards beyond.

Enough is enough. There are two weeks of Trumpian madness left but that doesn't mean we need to see things escalate again. Respect the US in word and deed, fight for your country at the ballot box or in campaigns, embrace humanity in all of its weird and wild iterations, and just stop the literal violence. There's more to us than this.

And it's 2021! Yay? I have no idea what's in store for me, which on a very deep level bothers me constantly. I'm one of those people who reads the end of a book before buying it so I'll know if I like the ending. Whenever that little parlor game of "Would you want to know exactly when you're doing to die?" occurs I always say yes. In fact, if I could I would scream it to the heavens since then I could plan SO MUCH BETTER for the rest of my life.

Part of last year was preparing for my big switch in life. I knew the time at my job had drawn to a close. I had been meaning to prepare a will and advanced directive so I had the appointments set up to get something on paper finally. The apartment was up in the air as to whether I would stay in NYC or leave but that decision has now been made.

2020 was letting go. Letting go of my worst vices, my best accomplishments, my sense of self, and my pride. I'm still working on trying to let go of my monetary expectations since I've also realized that on that same deep level I'm terrified of being poor, even though I've never had to live through a truly monetarily deprived time in my life.

I'm still struggling a lot in many different aspects of my life, and none of them are likely to change drastically in 2021. A gradual improvement is all that I can plan for, but I will be far less likely to let my job take advantage of my capacity for quality work. Simply because I can doesn't mean that I should, nor should I be guilted into it, taken advantage of, or belittled after the task is done. That statement also applies to my family and the dysfunction that can suck me in if I let it. 

If worst comes to worst I can always emulate Snow Crash and go live in my storage unit (not really, but the $200/mo price tag is attractive).

I don't do New Years resolutions and haven't in many years, but it's time to at least start a list to map out a basic plan. One positive of having my own life for so many years is that I have learned I am strong. I can rely on myself to do most of the things required to better my situation even if finding the energy and motivation can be challenging. But no matter what was drilled into me as a child and being back here again, I don't always make the wrong decisions just because it's not what they would have done. I have an amazing range of skills and capabilities and I deserve to be appreciated for those things.

Most of all I'll take that into 2021.