A musclebound, time-traveling cyborg from the future once said, “I’ll be back.” I probably should’ve said it too.
That’s right! It’s me. Marisa. I’m back to write about Oklahoma stuff as only I can. It’s been over 16 years since that day in March when a former TLO writer who now works for the Thunder asked for emails about why the city of Edmond sucks. I responded, which is where it all started.
Where I’ve Been
I know it’s been a while since I’ve darkened this digital doorstep, so I thought I’d share what I’ve been up to in the intervening years with a post that’s way too long for TLO, but I wrote it anyway.
Writing on the internet.
I mean, that’s kind of all there is for a writer to do these days. I’ve done some delightful SEO copy for businesses, as well as posted a lot on my own blog.
I also write a weekly newsletter. Last week I shared a tarot spread. This week, I’ll be talking about how thrift store jeans taught me to trust in the divine timing of things. If you like that sort of thing, you should subscribe.
Leaving Norman.
Norman was a wonderful place full of cheap beer and delightful coffee shops. While I miss the summer ghost town sort of vibe, I’m happy to have moved to the big town. Oklahoma City is home now. And even though I don’t live in a cool place that’s been recently gentrified, it’s an absolute treat to not have to drive through Moore’s I-35 insanity to get to Downtown.
Cutting Off Friendships.
I don’t want to tell anyone how to live their lives (unless I’m really drunk) but sometimes you should cut people out of your life. Block those phone numbers, baby. Because, sometimes you cut someone off and then a couple years later, TLO writes about their husband’s creepy-ass crime, and you have a hella cathartic moment where you realize you did the right thing in ending that friendship. And you’re also really glad you don’t have to be the recipient of a million text messages asking for advice about how to deal with a husband who is definitely going to jail.
I mean, that’s probably a really unique scenario. But like, maybe take a look at your friends list, gang. We all know someone who falls on the wrong end of the sketchy spectrum. You don’t want to wake up one day to a TLO post about that person, do you?
Having a Baby.
It’s weird that I started writing for TLO when I was but a 24-year-old blackout drinker, and I’m writing for TLO again as a middle-aged mom who can’t even finish a beer. To everything turn, turn, turn, I guess. I am the proud progenitor of an almost 19-month-old. And I can confidently say that parenthood is 97% fun, and 3% “oh my God, did you smash a banana into the floor vents?!”
Turning 40.
Not to sound like the stoner who signed your senior year book, but what a long, strange trip it’s been. Honestly, 40 is better than 30, but more confusing in very menial ways. For example, is this just what my back feels like now? Why do all the comfortable shoes have to look so orthopedic? Is anyone actually eating as much fiber and protein as they say we should be eating? Do they make mineral sunscreens for people who don’t want to look like they’re wearing clown makeup? How am I supposed to dress to properly reflect who I am in the face of late-stage capitalism and an American dream that withered and died before my generation could flaunt the trappings of middle age?
These are the questions that keep me up at night. Or, they would, if I wasn’t so incredibly exhausted from raising a toddler at this advanced age. This is 40, baby!
Having a Gruesome Gallbladder Situation and Reading Dungeon Crawler Carl.
This is the most recent development, and I only add it here because as I type this, I have some fun post-surgical drains sitting in my lap even though this whole thing was supposed to be a quick, outpatient affair.
Back in May, I went to the emergency room, and got admitted to the hospital to have a gallstone removed. Then, a month later, I went to have the whole gallbladder taken. My quick, laparoscopic procedure turned into a 3-hour full-on incision with a 3-night hospital stay. That’s how jacked up my guts were, apparently. I feel bad, because when the surgeon was telling me how it all went down, he had a sort of shellshocked look to him, and the surgery was a lot harder on him than it was on me. I mean, the man was just trying to do his job, and my gallbladder fought back.
Anyway, no complaints from me. The staff at Mercy is always a joy, whether I’m having a baby or chilling in the emergency room, or napping post-surgery. I highly recommend some occasional anesthesia for all toddler parents, because that is one deep, uninterrupted sleep. And a hospital stay is great for finally catching up on your reading. I’ve been mainlining Dungeon Crawler Carl through this whole ordeal.
(No spoilers, please. I just finished the seventh book, and I’m going back to read the “Backstage at the Pineapple Cabaret” chapters before I dive into the eighth!)
Looking to the Future
You know how new CEOs or new hires in very important positions share some hopeful view of the work they plan to do with an organization? I suppose I should do something like that. Only, this post is hella long and I’m pretty much just gonna talk shit.
So. You know. Everything old is new again, gang.
