(no subject)
I need to take some responsibility for the state of things. I feel like a dog tied to the bumper of my own life, just trying to catch up. No, no. It's nothing serious. I've just become……… totally lame.
Issue #1: I am a shitty friend. I haven't had an all-night pal-filled fun-fest since I was in St. Louis. I miss Allison. I miss the man-group. I haven’t seen Sarah in ages. When did I stop having time for hilarity and mirth!?
Issue #2: I completely crapped out on Halloween last night. It was my first night of aerial work in circus class, working with the trapeze and the silks. I hadn't heard anything from people about Halloween plans, so I called Wes before class to see if he wanted to catch a late night horror flick when I was done. He responded with a "what the hell aren't you costuming up for tonight right now!?" and I knew immediately the extent of my lame-assitude. I promised I'd meet up with them after class, and when Wes texted me the address, I realized we were going to be going to a Halloween party. Now anyone knows that if you're the only non-costumed one at a Halloween party, you feel like some sort-of outcast serial killer. I ended up keeping my little red pea coat on, taking my pants off, stuffing candy in my pockets and being a Central Park Pervert. You know what's really perverted? Me not dressing up for Halloween, showing up late, drinking 2 glasses of champagne and leaving the party at 11. THAT'S perverted.
Issue #3: I've stopped writing. I thought that when Four Weeks folded, I'd be able to instantly channel the effort I'd been putting into writing articles, reading books and composing reviews into working on (danger.....New York English major cliché ahead) my novel. And I haven't been. Not at all. Not a word.
Issue #4: Work. Can't go into details, but you guys know the story here. And the story ain't good.
These issues are all under the umbrella of a strange, frantic, directionless feeling of not knowing where my time has gone. Feeling like the way I spend my days and nights isn’t adding up to anything. A feeling that if I don't put the breaks (or the gas? I’m not sure) on soon, 2 years are going to go by while I'm fumbling in my pockets, wondering what I've forgotten.
Issue #1: I am a shitty friend. I haven't had an all-night pal-filled fun-fest since I was in St. Louis. I miss Allison. I miss the man-group. I haven’t seen Sarah in ages. When did I stop having time for hilarity and mirth!?
Issue #2: I completely crapped out on Halloween last night. It was my first night of aerial work in circus class, working with the trapeze and the silks. I hadn't heard anything from people about Halloween plans, so I called Wes before class to see if he wanted to catch a late night horror flick when I was done. He responded with a "what the hell aren't you costuming up for tonight right now!?" and I knew immediately the extent of my lame-assitude. I promised I'd meet up with them after class, and when Wes texted me the address, I realized we were going to be going to a Halloween party. Now anyone knows that if you're the only non-costumed one at a Halloween party, you feel like some sort-of outcast serial killer. I ended up keeping my little red pea coat on, taking my pants off, stuffing candy in my pockets and being a Central Park Pervert. You know what's really perverted? Me not dressing up for Halloween, showing up late, drinking 2 glasses of champagne and leaving the party at 11. THAT'S perverted.
Issue #3: I've stopped writing. I thought that when Four Weeks folded, I'd be able to instantly channel the effort I'd been putting into writing articles, reading books and composing reviews into working on (danger.....New York English major cliché ahead) my novel. And I haven't been. Not at all. Not a word.
Issue #4: Work. Can't go into details, but you guys know the story here. And the story ain't good.
These issues are all under the umbrella of a strange, frantic, directionless feeling of not knowing where my time has gone. Feeling like the way I spend my days and nights isn’t adding up to anything. A feeling that if I don't put the breaks (or the gas? I’m not sure) on soon, 2 years are going to go by while I'm fumbling in my pockets, wondering what I've forgotten.