It's About That Time
Well, it's about that time again. Halloween pub night at the school last night, all good times, except that as far as memory serves, there's a chance I was a bit of an ass. So that's got me thinking, you know, that it's about that time.
Time to quit drinking, you say? Not on your life, I say. Don't be stupid, nothing is ever solved without a beer on hand. Point in case: I'm sitting here right now, completely beerless, and I'm deep in the throws of a wicked hangover, typing at a speed of about 10 wpm, and to lazy to hit the sack. You can't tell me a beer wouldn't improve this situation dramatically.
No, it's time for a bit of solitary confinement. See, beer doesn't make an ass of people, people make an ass of people. And in this situation, I make an ass of me. Lately I've just been angsty and difficult, can't focus, can't concentrate, and generally a bit of a bitch. A bit more than what's usually called for, that is. And although I have no qualms with being an asshole, I do like to have control over my assholishness.
So back to solitary. My last attempt at solitude was cut short at three days by my discovery that my friends decided I was a) suffering severe psychosis b) dying of an incurable disease c) in a suicidal depression or d) dead, and the fact that The Kid was being signed in to daycare everyday was solely the product of a government conspiracy to cover up my disappearance.
But I was none of the above. What I was, was motivated. I cleaned house, did laundry, caught up on my readings for class, bought a book, read said book rather than staring blankly at the tv, did the once annual watering of the half dead plants, did the once annual cleaning of the half dead fish tanks, and was generally a productive member of society. Sorry ya'll had to miss it, you're gonna have to trust me on this one.
Anyway, motivation waylays angst and success soothes stress, so when you're stresses and angsty for no known reason, best deal with the symptoms since you can't isolate the cause. And hell, sometimes the symptoms are their own cause.
So I'm thinking it's time for another bout of solitude. I'll try to make this one a more subtle version though. You know, none of that vanishing of the face of the planet shit, I'll leave my phone on, just politely request no conversation only phone calls, stop in for a coffee before class, but for five minutes rather than five hours, and keep blogging, just not commenting. Hell, maybe I'll even come up with something original, meaningful, and well written. Although that may be pushing it.
I might just stick with doing the laundry.
Time to quit drinking, you say? Not on your life, I say. Don't be stupid, nothing is ever solved without a beer on hand. Point in case: I'm sitting here right now, completely beerless, and I'm deep in the throws of a wicked hangover, typing at a speed of about 10 wpm, and to lazy to hit the sack. You can't tell me a beer wouldn't improve this situation dramatically.
No, it's time for a bit of solitary confinement. See, beer doesn't make an ass of people, people make an ass of people. And in this situation, I make an ass of me. Lately I've just been angsty and difficult, can't focus, can't concentrate, and generally a bit of a bitch. A bit more than what's usually called for, that is. And although I have no qualms with being an asshole, I do like to have control over my assholishness.
So back to solitary. My last attempt at solitude was cut short at three days by my discovery that my friends decided I was a) suffering severe psychosis b) dying of an incurable disease c) in a suicidal depression or d) dead, and the fact that The Kid was being signed in to daycare everyday was solely the product of a government conspiracy to cover up my disappearance.
But I was none of the above. What I was, was motivated. I cleaned house, did laundry, caught up on my readings for class, bought a book, read said book rather than staring blankly at the tv, did the once annual watering of the half dead plants, did the once annual cleaning of the half dead fish tanks, and was generally a productive member of society. Sorry ya'll had to miss it, you're gonna have to trust me on this one.
Anyway, motivation waylays angst and success soothes stress, so when you're stresses and angsty for no known reason, best deal with the symptoms since you can't isolate the cause. And hell, sometimes the symptoms are their own cause.
So I'm thinking it's time for another bout of solitude. I'll try to make this one a more subtle version though. You know, none of that vanishing of the face of the planet shit, I'll leave my phone on, just politely request no conversation only phone calls, stop in for a coffee before class, but for five minutes rather than five hours, and keep blogging, just not commenting. Hell, maybe I'll even come up with something original, meaningful, and well written. Although that may be pushing it.
I might just stick with doing the laundry.
posted by Impulsivecompulsive | 10:34 PM
9 Comments:
Happy confinement.
Starting monday, and obviously doesn't include Halloween. Happy halfassed confinement, maybe.
See ya tomorow.
But only at night. Monday day is off. Halfassed, all the way.
"nothing is ever solved without a beer on hand"
What would we be without booze? Well, sober, but who wants that? I'd probably start thinking rationally and making better choices with my life. No, beer it is. (and please...wear the candy, I don't care what anyone else says. Edible sleepy gear sounds like a good thing, though that may just be the beer talking).
Oh, I'm so wearing the candy. Now, if I could kill two birds with one stone, and wear those little booze filled chocolates, I'd be stylin', but I could see a point where that could go seriously wrong.
i still love you
If you're going to write the Great American Novel while holed up in South America, you might want to be sure wherever you're holed up is air conditioned. Dripping sweat does shit for your prose.
This is the best advice I could ever give.
And what is the opposite of tuna?
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