This past Thursday/Friday were nasty for me. Wisdom tooth pain (after 18 months of smooth sailing) with the plus alpha of general rage syndrome.
I'm not tyicallly an angry person by any means. At least I don't consider myself to be. When I think of that particular temperament, I picture red-in-the-face corporate executives, Bill O'Reilly, bank tellers, Madonna, John McCain and Mike Tyson. It's unsettling for me to think that I may fall into this group. I like to imagine that I fall into the semi-easily-irritable/sulky category.
More often than not it's just a matter of me keeping things all bottled up and locked down till I feel like I'm going to explode at the drop of a dime, and I can't put my finger on what it is that's tearing me up until someone asks me what's wrong...at which point I burst into tears and need to have a code-red emergency cigarette break. This happened Friday, while I was ringing in my slips.
In the end, just cracking a bit and letting out a few tears was all it took to make me feel better, 100% better. The cigarette helped too. Sometimes it's really just very pleasant being a smoker. Sitting there in my car with nothing to do but breathe in carcinogens and soul-soothing nicotine, all of the pieces came flowing together like a slow-motion game of tetris, in which I finally won after being at that critical point, where the blocks are building to the top and the music is speeding up, for two days straight without a damn L-shaped piece in sight.
Tears and cigarettes for the win. We all have our moments. Don't say you don't.
I had a tough time figuring out how to wrap up Friday on a positive note. Turns out the light at the end of the tunnel was waiting at Borders. Christmas decorations and accessories at 40% off. Fact: My room was plenty decked out until I realized that a 2' tall pink christmas tree for $7 existed in this world. All previous decorations and trimmings were instantly rendered insufficient. Pink christmas tree, make me whole again.
And it did. It's kind of impossible to feel entirely shitty about life when you've got a rose colored sparkly-glowing tree on your desk, in your warm room with four walls. Childen in Africa don't have beer...you get the point.
Now I finally have a place to put all those mini candy canes. Thank god.
I may look at this in five years (or less, depending) and say holy-f, what was I thinking...this gaudy looking thing!? The same thing happened with those giant platform go-go boots I bought in Japan in 2000. I threw them out a few years later during such a did-I-buy-these-sober moment. A decision I now regret terribly. Lesson learned? Fantastic decisions can become bad decisions, and may possibly turn out to be fantastic ideas again one day. You'll never get those go-go boots back. Don't throw out the pink christmas tree. It needs you, you need it.
Now, I'm goint to use the impulse purchase of a pink christmas tree to segway into the topic of logic. I'm not the biggest fan of utilizing it. Logic is the biggest thief of youth, spontaneity, happiness, creativity and heartfelt things. Here's an experiment: for about three minutes, try to play pretend. Like you did when you were a kid. Imagine you're in a different place, imagine that your laptop is really a missle launching apparatus, that your sofa is a fucking pirate ship. Go wild.
I bet you can't do it. I can't either. I tried to out of boredom one day while I was on deliveries. I attempted to pretend that I wasn't really driving, but rather on a water slide. It was a constant struggle, which left me feeling the fool and in great need of a vacation. Diabolical failure.
I think this is why alcohol is the holy grail of fun for adults. It let's our brains play pretend on auto-pilot. Not that your refrigerator will suddenly become a time-portal in your eyes (that kind of stuff requires heavier shit). To put it simply, Idea A, while in the world of sober is a ridiculous thought, becomes wildly awesome in drunkland. Note: Idea A is never wildly awesome in hangover land. This is a fact.
Anyway, logic. I had to drag it out of the junk drawer of my mind today.
Policecop isn't getting back until 11:00 pm on Thursday. Despite the fact that his graduation is at 8:00 am our time, and he is pretty much free to go after that. Since we all know that the army doesn't exactly excell at getting shit done in a timely and favorable manner, I guess I should have seen this coming?
But I didn't.
So, nay on the romantical reunion at the airport (I have a thing for airports), nay on going out for dinner, nay on that car ride home together down 495. Nix that whole night that you've been anticipating for nearly half a year, building it up in your mind like it's on par with the second coming of christ. Friday morning is the new Thursday night. Surprise! Why? Because 11:00 is too late, and Logan is too far.
What the hell am I even going to do with myself to pass the time Thursday night? Play boggle with my cat? This is not the way it was supposed to go down. Army, you owe me more than the US owes China. If anything else gets screwed up or delayed, if one more daydream is put on hold I'm teaming up with Putin and it's going to be fucking ugly.
It might not seem like one more day would be a big deal after all this time, but it is. I would rather stab a hole in my wrist than re-write the number 4 on it tomorrow morning.
I guess this is how it has to be though. Logic prevails. I understand. It makes more sense in my brain. My heart however, is retrogressing back to age four. It's currently writhing on the floor in the Barbie aisle of Toys R'Us, screaming "BUT I WANT IT NOOOOWWWW!!!!!!!"
Anyway. Enough of that. In other news, I'm mailing out christmas cards this year. If you want one, send me your address.
Love, Jackie.
I'm not tyicallly an angry person by any means. At least I don't consider myself to be. When I think of that particular temperament, I picture red-in-the-face corporate executives, Bill O'Reilly, bank tellers, Madonna, John McCain and Mike Tyson. It's unsettling for me to think that I may fall into this group. I like to imagine that I fall into the semi-easily-irritable/sulky category.
More often than not it's just a matter of me keeping things all bottled up and locked down till I feel like I'm going to explode at the drop of a dime, and I can't put my finger on what it is that's tearing me up until someone asks me what's wrong...at which point I burst into tears and need to have a code-red emergency cigarette break. This happened Friday, while I was ringing in my slips.
In the end, just cracking a bit and letting out a few tears was all it took to make me feel better, 100% better. The cigarette helped too. Sometimes it's really just very pleasant being a smoker. Sitting there in my car with nothing to do but breathe in carcinogens and soul-soothing nicotine, all of the pieces came flowing together like a slow-motion game of tetris, in which I finally won after being at that critical point, where the blocks are building to the top and the music is speeding up, for two days straight without a damn L-shaped piece in sight.
Tears and cigarettes for the win. We all have our moments. Don't say you don't.
I had a tough time figuring out how to wrap up Friday on a positive note. Turns out the light at the end of the tunnel was waiting at Borders. Christmas decorations and accessories at 40% off. Fact: My room was plenty decked out until I realized that a 2' tall pink christmas tree for $7 existed in this world. All previous decorations and trimmings were instantly rendered insufficient. Pink christmas tree, make me whole again.
And it did. It's kind of impossible to feel entirely shitty about life when you've got a rose colored sparkly-glowing tree on your desk, in your warm room with four walls. Childen in Africa don't have beer...you get the point.
Now I finally have a place to put all those mini candy canes. Thank god.
I may look at this in five years (or less, depending) and say holy-f, what was I thinking...this gaudy looking thing!? The same thing happened with those giant platform go-go boots I bought in Japan in 2000. I threw them out a few years later during such a did-I-buy-these-sober moment. A decision I now regret terribly. Lesson learned? Fantastic decisions can become bad decisions, and may possibly turn out to be fantastic ideas again one day. You'll never get those go-go boots back. Don't throw out the pink christmas tree. It needs you, you need it.
Now, I'm goint to use the impulse purchase of a pink christmas tree to segway into the topic of logic. I'm not the biggest fan of utilizing it. Logic is the biggest thief of youth, spontaneity, happiness, creativity and heartfelt things. Here's an experiment: for about three minutes, try to play pretend. Like you did when you were a kid. Imagine you're in a different place, imagine that your laptop is really a missle launching apparatus, that your sofa is a fucking pirate ship. Go wild.
I bet you can't do it. I can't either. I tried to out of boredom one day while I was on deliveries. I attempted to pretend that I wasn't really driving, but rather on a water slide. It was a constant struggle, which left me feeling the fool and in great need of a vacation. Diabolical failure.
I think this is why alcohol is the holy grail of fun for adults. It let's our brains play pretend on auto-pilot. Not that your refrigerator will suddenly become a time-portal in your eyes (that kind of stuff requires heavier shit). To put it simply, Idea A, while in the world of sober is a ridiculous thought, becomes wildly awesome in drunkland. Note: Idea A is never wildly awesome in hangover land. This is a fact.
Anyway, logic. I had to drag it out of the junk drawer of my mind today.
Policecop isn't getting back until 11:00 pm on Thursday. Despite the fact that his graduation is at 8:00 am our time, and he is pretty much free to go after that. Since we all know that the army doesn't exactly excell at getting shit done in a timely and favorable manner, I guess I should have seen this coming?
But I didn't.
So, nay on the romantical reunion at the airport (I have a thing for airports), nay on going out for dinner, nay on that car ride home together down 495. Nix that whole night that you've been anticipating for nearly half a year, building it up in your mind like it's on par with the second coming of christ. Friday morning is the new Thursday night. Surprise! Why? Because 11:00 is too late, and Logan is too far.
What the hell am I even going to do with myself to pass the time Thursday night? Play boggle with my cat? This is not the way it was supposed to go down. Army, you owe me more than the US owes China. If anything else gets screwed up or delayed, if one more daydream is put on hold I'm teaming up with Putin and it's going to be fucking ugly.
It might not seem like one more day would be a big deal after all this time, but it is. I would rather stab a hole in my wrist than re-write the number 4 on it tomorrow morning.
I guess this is how it has to be though. Logic prevails. I understand. It makes more sense in my brain. My heart however, is retrogressing back to age four. It's currently writhing on the floor in the Barbie aisle of Toys R'Us, screaming "BUT I WANT IT NOOOOWWWW!!!!!!!"
Anyway. Enough of that. In other news, I'm mailing out christmas cards this year. If you want one, send me your address.
Love, Jackie.
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