Putting Ducks In Rows: Less Exciting Than It Seems

My average day consists of waking up at about 9:45am, working cash in a Mexican restaurant from 10:30am to 5pm, going to either school or yoga (or school and then yoga), coming home to spend an hour or two dicking around on the internet, then sleep and repeat.  I rotate weeks of smoking and not smoking weed, go out drinking at the bar or a show an average of one night each weekend, and spend the rest of my weekends either with my lover or my family or both.

I read books on the bus, go to counselling once a week, look at the "Help Wanted" section in the local papers, and continue laying the foundation for a different life – a more exciting, more vibrant, more fulfilling life.  I don’t know where I’m going, don’t know what I want, and don’t know when I’ll get there.  It’s kinda hard to come up with fresh new exciting things to write about, either as journalling or structured pieces when your goals for the year are to get your credit in line, pay back your debt, and open an RRSP to start saving for retirement.

Sometimes I meet new people, but it’s hard to get emotionally involved with them when so much of my focus is inwards right now.  I meet people I want to have sex with and I pursue them out of self-imposed direction to avoid getting too attached to one person (a destructive situation in my case).  I pursue for the sake of pursuing, because I know that once you fuck someone they expect to fuck you too and the idea of trusting someone new that much terrifies me these days – unless I can ditch them when I leave and never see them again.

I promise people that I’ll meet up with them for coffee, drinks, or general conversation and then don’t follow through because making time for them would mean less time to sit alone and reflect.  I plan to do things that will inspire me but procrastinate to the point that I don’t start on any of them: gardening; writing; meditation.  I tell people I can’t work on events that are coming up due to "health issues" and bail when I’m forced to take projects on.  At least once a day I feel like crying, but don’t.

I think a lot but realize that people don’t want to hear it – self-reflection is only interesting to the person doing it, and not only do I not want to bore people, I also don’t want to expose myself that much anymore.  I feel dull and boring, find others dull and boring, and yearn for excitement, all while realizing that this process is crucial to being able to function properly and become a stronger person.

I might be proud not have a major substance abuse problem, a job in the sex industry, or a wild lifestyle anymore, but I miss the adrenaline and endorphins more than anything.