So. I'm in a funk. I'm stuck in a rut. I'm in a way, if you will. Mostly I'm bored, and being bored is a very bad thing for me because not only is it, well, boring, but mostly it gives me too much time to think about things. And that's not good. Because I over think things in a way that 360 daily milligrams of Wyeth pharmaceuticals' best can't help.
Specifically, I can't stop thinking about the big picture, and the big picture stresses the fuck out of me. Because what am I doing? I work in a dead-end job that yesterday I said a medium-sized houseplant could do. And after five months of being unemployed, this was the best job I could get. And it's not like a year of human houseplant experience is going to beef up my resume so I can get a more fulfilling job. And even if by the grace of god I do get another job, what do I really want to do? What would make me happy? Would anything make me happy? Am I doomed to be an unhappy, sarcastic curmudgeon for the rest of my life? Should I go back to school? What would I even go back to school for? And since when did I become the most boring person on the face of the planet? Everyday I go to work, come home, swiffer something, watch What Not to Wear, go to the gym, come home and go to bed. What the fuck is that? If you told me that in three months Murder She Wrote on DVD will be part of my daily repertoire, I would not die of shock.
And these are the thoughts racing through mind at any given moment. Even when I'm out with friends, I find myself zoning out and quietly getting worked up thinking about this shit to the point of randomly exploding with, "I'M GONNA DIE ALONE IN AN OFFICE CHAIR AND THE MOST MEANINGFUL RELATIONSHIP I HAVE IS WITH THE FEDEX GUY AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW HIS NAME!!!!!" Which usually has nothing to do with the conversation going on around me. So that's awkward.
But no more! I refuse to be the victim of mediocrity and complacency. The other week my sister dropped by my apartment unannounced at 8:00 in the evening and found me in bed passed out above the covers, still in my work clothes (minus the pants,) clutching an empty wine bottle and my laptop. (Damn her for having a key...) This was a wake up call, literally and figuratively. Becca and I had a pep talk and decided that it's time for me to make moves. I have make changes in my life. Do things! Be active! Wear pants!
But where to start? Last Friday I sat down with Helena and over a pitcher of margaritas we brainstormed ways to spice up my life. Here's what we came up with:
1.) Move to Antwerp. Actually, we didn't come up with this Friday, this is my standard go-to fallback life plan. I'm convinced that running away to Antwerp is the best life idea ever. Why? 1.) I heart Belgium 2.) moules 3.) frites 4.) Stella Artois 5.) waffles 6.) the streets are paved with diamonds 7.) Antwerp Academy of Fine Arts 8.) the shopping 9.) Belgian boys—I say god damn and 10.) best province flag ever:
Now, I don't speak Flemish or French, which might be a slight problem. Well, that's not completely true. I can say the following in French: chicken, shit, please, thank you, hello, goodbye, excuse me, how are you? I'm fine and may I have a beer? So as long as every conversation I have in Antwerp is:
"Hello chicken shit, how are you?"
"I'm fine, thank you. Excuse me, can I have a beer?"
"Thank you very much. Goodbye!"
"Goodbye chicken shit!"
I'll be fine.
2.) Get a gun. I proposed this half-kidding and slightly inferring I would use it to kill myself, but Helena took it somewhere productive: SKEET SHOOTING! How could skeet shooting not be fun? It's an ass-backwards oddly old-money ritzy activity, they do it all the time on Dynasty, you look badass doing it, and it would put my ability to forcefully yell PULL! to good use. We're still working on the logistics of how this is actually going to happen, but it will happen. Oh yes, it will.
3.) Get a drug addiction. Mainly because withdrawal, detox and going to rehab would give me something interesting and productive to do. Plus, you know how I feel about those cushy rehab facilities. The ultimate would be to find a rehab facility in Antwerp that has skeet shooting.
4.) Start a badminton league for young, upwardly mobile, attractive Washingtonians. Technically Andrew and I cooked this one up, but everyone I propose it to, including Helena, thinks it's the best idea ever and immediately wants in. Who doesn't love badminton? It's like tennis, but less strenuous and involves the word "shuttlecock." I imagine mimosas and delightfully ironic tennis outfits being involved.
We just need to find a place to play, make a trip to Target, swing by the liquor store and GAME ON!
5.) OK. The idea I'm about to pitch to you literally made me feel 98% better about being alive. Hear us out. Drunken Monument Tours. Specifically giving them. BEST IDEA EVER, or BEST IDEA EVER?! Remember when you were a freshman and one of the must-do DC activities was to see the monuments at night, drunk as sin? And wasn't it fun?! Well what if you had me and Helena there as your knowledgeable and witty tour guides? We call it Dizzy Tours: The Drunk Monument Experience (WORKING TITLE & PATENT PENDING). The tour meets at a to be determined bar near the Mall where we have a Dizzy Tours Happy Hour. After you're nicely toasted, we lead you to the mall for a night of scenic beauty, historical fun-facts and GHOST STORIES! That's right! It's a ghost tour too! A drunken, historical, ghost tour. I literally can't think of anything more fun in the entire world. So there's that. Helena and I aren't kidding about this idea either (not that I was kidding about any of our other ideas, I'd just rather try to create a badminton league before I resort to heroin.) So, I guess the question is, ARE YOU IN?!