It’s been 13 months in lockdown now, which means, like most people, I’ve run through every conceivable pastime to keep from losing my mind (except for making sourdough bread; I refrained from that nonsense). I got super into working out. Then got super into being lazy. I binge-watched anything and everything I could think of. I watched every animated Disney and Pixar film. I attempted to get into classical films (and failed). I made enough soup to stock several freezers. I tried adult coloring books. I gardened. I puzzled. I eBayed. I even got back into making jewelry. I suppose it was only a matter of time until I arrived at this point, here, staring down the New Post screen of WordPress.
When I had the potentially terrible idea to get back into blogging, I wondered to myself, “do I bother dusting off RubyRoark, or do I start fresh?” And before I could answer that question, I felt I needed to go back for myself and reread it all. From the beginning.
Holy. Shit.
I find myself wishing I had a time machine and could go back and tell 2010 me how things will be today. Not because I wish to change anything. No warnings or cryptic messages necessary. But because I want to tell 2010 me to calm the fuck down. It all turns out alright. Seriously. I look around at all I have and all I’ve done and I think, “you know… if I could teleport 2010 me here right now for a Behind the Music style in-person special… I think she’d be pretty pleased.” Granted, she’d probably be pretty confused about the whole pandemic situation and that netbooks never caught on, but otherwise…
Hank and I eventually became Mr. and Mrs Roark. Of course, I’m still me, so nothing happens linearly or normally. We dated for more than eight years before he proposed (on a Southwest flight over the intercom, of all ways). And thanks to the pandemic, our initial wedding plans had to be shuffled a bit and ended up just being us and Lizzy in a Disney Skyliner gondola with our officiant performing the ceremony via Zoom. Granted, I’m still me, so those initial plans that were scrapped only involved an extra dozen people and a yacht on Seven Seas Lagoon. I told you ten years ago when shopping for a wedding dress with Lizzy — I’d never wear one of those! And I meant it.
I also meant it when I said I’d never have any kids. I’m 38 and loving life with just Hank and two cats. Sadly, they’re not Bird and Dizzy. We lost both of them last year. Bird, very unexpectedly, and Dizzy a little less so. My heart broke for both of them a million times over, but it also made way for our current boys, Cash and Wynton.
You know who is still alive, though? Rhett. Barely. Man, reading back on the anxiety I went through trying to relearn a stick shift… oy. Better 2010 me than current me. But now I’d have it no other way.
What else? Let’s see… I finally made it to living in Florida. Actually, we’ve been here for seven years now, if you can believe it. I barely can. This is officially the longest I’ve lived in one place since… middle school? I’m already sort of starting to feel the itch to move on, but I can’t tell if it’s real or just a pandemic side effect of never leaving my house. It’s a lovely house, though. Palm trees all around and a big, deep pool. We use a coconut for a front door stopper.
Reading back through the 2012-2013 posts was also rough. Spoiler alert to 2010 me: life doesn’t magically fix itself by moving south and in with your boyfriend. I was not a happy camper in North Carolina, no matter how hard I pretended to be. Ironically, our move to Florida had nothing to do with Disney and everything to do with my being laid off and then being offered a job in Fort Myers. (Getting to bounce up to Disney once a month is merely an unintentional perk). And also ironically, moving to Florida was one of the best things we ever did (also having nothing to do with Disney). I finally came into my own. Found renewed confidence. Happiness. Sanity. Relationship stability.
No, I never finished turning this here blog into a memoir (perhaps that’s for the best), but I did end up writing a book and having it published. When I first told my family about my plans for it, and gave them the hint that it was about two of my hobbies, Peter guessed it immediately: Disney and drinking. It definitely hasn’t sold enough copies for me to retire early, but it’s been a colorful journey and has provided a little bit of fun money. Mostly spent on research for the latest edition.
That’s right, 2010 me, you pretty much got everything you wanted: you married the love of your life, you’re a published author, you live in Florida, you get to work from home now, you’re well-traveled (even made it to every Disney park in Asia!), and gainfully employed at a job you enjoy. There isn’t much to complain about!
Sure, there’s still no reason to own a lot of shoes anymore (boy, oh boy, did you love shoes). Sadly, I can no longer seem to grow chilies (some weird pests keep eating them and nothing, I mean NOTHING, will stop them — but I do grow plenty of pineapples and mangoes). I couldn’t keep Bird alive. That whole anxiety thing got a whole lot worse before it got better. And I hope you’re sitting down for this one: you got sober (this may seem like bad news to you in 2010, but I can assure you that from where we’re sitting in 2021, that’s pretty fucking great (way more to come on that topic; pretty soon this blog will just be the Ruby Roark Recovery Report; you’ve been warned)).
So yeah, you’re doing alright, kid. You’ve aged pretty well, if I do say so myself. And so has Hank! Bonus. You’ve mellowed out over the years. Mostly. Somewhat. I think so. I mean, let’s face it, you didn’t set the bar too high for what could now be considered “mellow” by comparison, yes? Sure, the road here wasn’t necessarily straight or smooth, but it was worth the journey. And looking forward, not everything requires a fight or flight reaction and detailed play-by-play in blog format. If you make it beyond two weeks of blogging in these present times before getting the COVID-ADD, you’ll write posts because an interesting thought struck you and not because you’re mentally starring in some deranged personal fable sideshow.
I’m not sure if there’s anyone else out there that I’m talking to other than 2010 me at this point. But that’s okay. As pompous and callous and highly strung as that bitch was, she meant well.
Ruby Roark 