Thursday, July 22, 2010

A Not-Funny Blog Post (with I guess maybe a few funny bits)

I don't feel like laughing about anything today.  Not even the Mystery Smell in my freezer, which, despite its obscene grossness, is hilarious in its elusiveness.  Know what's in my freezer?  Ice cubes.  So someone please tell me what the fuck is causing a smell somewhere between vomit stuck in a sink drain for a week and poopy shoes resting against a heater.  Not ice cubes, I can tell you that.

I usually feel like laughing every day, about something at sometime or another.  Dog doing something stupid ..... friend making a funny face ..... sudden memory of something funny Malcolm Reynolds said.  (Watch Firefly.  Seriously.  It's awesome, and you'll thank me for making your life 14 episodes better.)

I feel like laughing every day, except for the last few weeks, when I haven't really felt like laughing very much at all.  I've felt like crap.  I've been mopey and whiny and depressed.  I, I, I, me, me, me, blah, blah, blah, shut up already.  We all have days like that -- days when we feel like the world is throwing railroad spikes at our head, and it turns out the world is, like, Railroad Spike Shotput Champion of the Super-Olympics or something.  Days when we just want to crawl into bed and never leave, or crawl into a hole and never leave, or crawl into a friend's arms and never leave. (I recommend the last one -- it feels pretty good, if you've got the right friends.  Plus, never leaving bed = bad smelliness, and hole = um, well, it's a hole, so it obviously sucks.)

So I've spent the better part of the last few weeks feeling sorry for myself and driving a really nice friend nuts with my feeling sorry-ness.  (He knows who he is, and if he's reading this:  I'm sorry, but it's all your fault because you're a really good listener.  Maybe if you, I dunno, started clipping your toenails or punching yourself in the face or screaming "SHUT UP!!!!!" while I'm talking to you, I'd leave you alone.  Maybe.)  Feeling sorry for myself, trying to figure out what's wrong with me/why no one loves me/why I'm broke/why my dog stares at me/why I can't lose those last few pounds/why I'm such a big baby and can't just suck it up/why etcetera/why etcetera/why etcetera.  Soul-searching ... asking others to search my soul for me ... deciding I have no soul ... deciding I did have a soul, but I obviously traded it to Satan so I could get my Mustang ... wondering if I can make the hard decisions I need to make and give up the things I have to give up if I want my soul back (not the Mustang, though,  I'm keeping the damn car.)

I think I've started to ramble.  Meh.

Basically, we all have days/weeks/months when we hate ourselves and our lives and for some reason today an unfortunate grey shirt which now lay in tatters on my living room floor because the elastic was loose and I apparently thought I could fix it by throwing ninja stars or a blender at it or something.  We all go through times when we hate our jobs and those hilarious pieces of paper called "pay" stubs and our homes and our kids/pets/evil houseplants (I'm not kidding -- they want me dead.)  We want to move away to the woods and live off the land which is stupid because I don't know how to hunt and I'm not eating frigging tree bark and sticks and after 31 years, I've grown quite accustomed to toilet paper.  There are days for us all when we're pretty sure it would be easier to lay in a bathtub and wait until we shrivel up and lose necessary cohesion and leak down the drain in clumpy, fatty people-chunks.

But there are also days when you wake up and see a canary on the tree outside your bedroom window -- not singing or making weird noises and driving you nuts.....just sitting there being beautiful.

When the first person you see smiles at you, even though you don't know them.

When you turn on your iPod, and the first song it plays is the song you used to dance to with that cute boy in Grade 9.

When you get to work and someone who you didn't think even knew your name tells you what an amazing job you did the day before.

There are days when a good friend comes to your house and lets you cry in his arms.

When you get a text message out of the blue from someone you haven't talked to in months, who just wanted to say "hi."

Or when someone you can't stand finally stops telling you about his effing cellphone plan.

Days when the dog doesn't bark at the mailman or lunge at the neighbour-kids, not even ONCE!

When you realize one of your friends is the strongest, most wonderfully stubborn person you've ever met.

There are days when you stuff yourself with burgers and fries, and don't gain a single pound.

When you don't feel like working out, and you don't get mad at yourself for it.

You find a grey hair, and you don't care at all.

And when you tell a friend you love them, and they say it back.

The bad days always stick out the most, because they're the ones that hit us the hardest.  They're the days when our emotions kick us in the balls and leave big, purple ball-bruises.  The days when we cry ourselves to sleep because it hurts to just be still.

Those days are assholes, and I'm not going to be their friend anymore.

I'm going to remember the days when my friends make me laugh so hard that tears pour down my face, and the days when I go to sleep smiling because I've spent time sitting in the sun and talking with people I love who love me back, and the days when absolutely nothing happens - because those are the days when everything happens.

Hug your friends.  Tell them what they mean to you every chance you get.  Also sometimes poke them in the back of the head and tell them they smell like turds.  They'll appreciate it all (even the turd part.)


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