Thursday, October 13, 2011


secret shame. other than dove bars.

i was feeling perfectly fine this morning. tired. whatever. excited to get to the coffee shop and eat a pain au chocolat (new leaf, yes. skipping pastry, no). and in my morning scan of internet offerings, i found a friend of mine interviewed about being a mom.

why am i so convinced that other people are having more fun than i am? when i hear stories about people investing in themselves and getting happy, sometimes they make me despair. because i think i can't do that? because it doesn't work? because for a long time, i think people really were happier than i was most of the time and now i'm that paranoid guy who thinks there must always be a boogie in his nose? (a sadness boogie. the boogie of sadness.)

i have such a terminal grass-is-greener problem. and i think getting happier has more to do with kicking that than with anything else.

also, though, right now is hard. i may have a problem that makes me think i live in a constant state of exception where things are temporarily difficult but will get better when: we make more money, when this show closes, when i have a more fulfilling job, when the kid goes to college. i know better than to spend my life that way, but there's no getting over that this year might suck in a lot of ways.

but for right now, i'm going to go write for five minutes in a pretend voice, one that thinks i'm as happy as my friend. and we'll see how that goes.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011


it's me. again.

there's a backdated post coming about the very latest hey-wait-now-it's-different. (preview, which will be a post view: fourteen months! is when the baby became a kid. all kid. what a kid.) i'll write it soon, but this one is burning a bigger hole in a more important pocket.

i've been drinking a lot in the evenings. this happens sometimes; it's happened other sometimes, and i've never been too worried. i started to just get the smallest amount worried, and then the thing that always happens happened: it stopped being fun. my sleep has been sucking. i think i have finally gotten enough beer. (it was like there was a very very dry beer sponge in there. the months of pregnancy and nursing--like i abstained while nursing--parched me in a way that could only be slaked by a couple of months of beer hoovering.)

and i got myself a few books, thinking i could do that in the nights instead. it turns out it's fun, just like i remember--like before i had netflix and a dvr and didn't quite know i could buy booze for myself. which is to say, before 25. remember that? remember having that bottle of scotch for, like, a year? and reading books and renting Important Films?

i read a book that made me, on one hand, sad because it was about someone doing her dream job. and also written in a way that made me think i would like this famous person, which somehow also made me sad because we are not going to be friends. more, though, that i am not going to have that thing--at least not my first thing, the ashland thing, the film career thing, the voice-overs-for-adult-cartoons thing. i will not have a career that involves a blooper reel, and to me that is a serious deal. i pick that. that is my first choice.

increasingly, i'm worried that my very valid second choice is nearly as much of a shot in the dark, an ice castle, but whatever.

the POINT IS, it also made me want to write again, really badly. so i might do some of that. i'm not making any promises, because i am too smart for that. (Things I Am Too Smart For: short list.) but i am also thinking about going to bed earlier and eating some green stuff and doing a few sit ups. you know, to see. just to see.

if this is all to shit in a month and i'm back to killing a triad of cheap beer each night, no fair laughing. i'm trying as hard as i can to figure, and there's a lot to figure. i'm finding a place for the six thousand wants that can't be assuaged. if you're wondering what i'm doing with ALL MY FREE TIME, it's that.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?