2011 in Review: Part 3

SEPTEMBER:

September was one of the last months that I remember feeling like myself. Everything was going along swimmingly. On one lovely day I decided to go for a bicycle ride. Over the Summer, I had become an avid cyclist, but this jaunt was a bit extreme–60 miles. I survived, but I didn’t walk properly for several days after that. I was proud of myself, though. Here’s a view from the bicycle:

Janet Jackson tweeted me. I felt famous for weeks after that:

All Summer long I had worked on converting an old cow waterer into a pool. It was a lot more work than I anticipated, and I have lots left to do, but I’ll save that for this Spring and Summer. Here’s a look as I filled it up:

I finished the final draft of my novel, Terrible Miss Margo, towards the end of the month. I was so proud of myself for finishing it and I think it’s rather a good story. We’ll see if anybody buys it this year or if I will be a bitter starving artist.

I was driving around town one day after work when I spotted this:

A beautiful brick, Victorian house that I quickly deemed the Palazzo. I fell passionately in love with it and we made plans to buy it. It was cheap and gorgeous. But alas, all this happiness couldn’t last…let’s get it over with.

OCTOBER:

This was one of the worst months of my entire life. If I could have it obliterated from my memory, I would. But I can’t, not until the Alzheimer’s kicks in, anyway.

At the beginning of the month we took a couple tours of the Palazzo, it was gutted inside, but had the promise of such beauty. I had every design detail figured out in my head: checkerboard marble tiles in the entrance hall, the flooring chosen, I’d even selected an artist to do a portrait of me for above the mantle.

Everything about that house was perfect and I couldn’t wait to claim it for my own, and I was sure that I would.

Here’s where everything went to shit. On a Thursday in the middle of the month, I received a horrible email. A notice for you in the future, never send a breakup note over email, and never do it while I’m at work. I was crushed and miserable. I don’t recall much that happened during the rest of the month, I would go through the motions at work and then swig NyQuil like it was water when I got home so that I could black out. I spent a lot of time by myself, crying–good thing I did it alone, I’m hideous when I cry.

I put all my frustrations into plans for the Palazzo, which was only a couple of bank appointments away from being mine, but then one day, the FOR SALE sign was gone and I had lost my dream home as well.

NOVEMBER:

This month just kind of drifted by, I wasn’t really myself anymore. I was depressed and I showed it. Kids at work would say to me, “You look sad, Mr. Phillips.” They also noted that I didn’t dress up anymore. I used to put a lot of effort into my attire and I’ve started to again now, but at that point in my life, I just threw things on.

We have another house, so I decided to paint the walls there. If I couldn’t claim the Palazzo as my own, I could at least take possession of something. I decided to convert the old dining room into my writing studio. My brother came over one day and we painted everything white so that I could have a white box.

It turned out very well, and I plan to start working on my next novel, Hôtel Ker-Maria, very soon. It’s peaceful there, surrounded by such northern European starkness.

A brief rekindling of something took place towards the end of the month, but nothing really came from it. A happy moment while it lasted, though.

DECEMBER:

Winter wasn’t very harsh, there wasn’t any snow and I was starting to return to myself. I had to remember to love myself…God that sounds pathetically Oprah-esque, doesn’t it? True, though. I reminded myself that I had been happy with myself for decades and I could be again. I was and am the most charming, handsome, delightful, and witty fellow around. I loved my own company. My emotions had definitely expanded and I think that it’s good for my writing, that sounds very cold, though. I’d rather things were the way they were during the Summer, but I can’t change things, much as I wish I could. Who knows what will happen, anyway?

I ate at a few places and looked devastatingly debonaire as I critically reviewed the dinnerware.

I bought myself a fancy espresso machine and discovered that I love grapefruit. I drank an awful lot of espresso:

Christmas came quickly. I bought my family expensive gifts that they would use in Disney World. Actually, I bought them for myself and let my family tag along. Ma and I are going to high tea at one of the resorts, Pa and I are going to a luau, and Jessica and I are going on a safari. It should be good fun.

I was given a lot of nice things, too: a Blu-ray disc player for my new giant television, books about macarons, the Louvre, Joanna Lumley, gift cards galore, and a few other lovely items. Then the moment we were done opening our gifts, Ma said that we were putting the dog to sleep. Merry Christmas to me.

So, a few days later, Shadow was dead. It’s rather upsetting.

On New Year’s Eve, I got lost in the ghetto, and I’m quite happy that I’m alive because I was doubtful I’d make it. It was a beautiful day, though, so getting knifed by a drug lord wouldn’t have been as bad as it would have been had it been snowing.

2012:

I assume this year will be decent, every year is decent, I suppose. I’m going to Florida in a couple of weeks and I’ve been looking forward to that for quite some time. I don’t really make resolutions, just a couple of the usual goals: abs, become a model, become famous, get published, build a brick house, learn how to wire and plumb said house, be artistic, master Spanish, become besties with other celebrities. I’m sure it’ll be simple.

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