Tuesday, June 12, 2012

one day you'll find that I have gone

The best part about being a 'writer,' for me, is that I have the ability to express myself in words in almost any situation.  The worst part about being a writer is when the words refuse to come out. Like right now.

And since I don't know how to talk about it or write about it without a geyser of anguish gushing down my face, I'll lay it out in the simplest terms.

We had to put one of our cats, Suzie, down today. She'd been losing weight and getting weird over the past two weeks, so when we finally brought her in we got the worst diagnosis possible: inoperable cancer. So she's gone and even though I've now lost six pets over the course of my 23 years this one hit me the hardest. I don't know what it is about aging but the older I get the more difficult it is for me to deal with loss.  I'm dazed and I'm confused and I'm hurt and I don't want to deal with this. Not now; not ever.

Suzie has never been my biggest fan, but over the years she (at the very least) grew to tolerate me because I was obsessed with her as I am with all cats. She took to sleeping on my Zac Efron pillow right by my heater a few months ago because she has great taste in human men and was probably cold. She stopped hissing at me and rubbed up against my legs a few times. I guess her tiny heart finally grew a few sizes and she was able to squeeze me in there. Maybe she sensed the end was coming; animals always do. Whatever it was I guess it's over now.

Maybe it's immature and strange to feel so much sadness over the death of an animal but... why? Forgive me, this is all so cliche, but no animal has ever made me feel like a worthless piece of shit the way some people have. No animal has ever made me feel like I was too fat or too stupid or too anything to be loved. If you're good to them, they're good to you, and that's the way it should be always and forever world without end. So I'm not sorry if I'm a lot sad for losing someone who never deserved to suffer; I'm not sorry that I'm not ready for this kind of loss.

The only thing I'm sorry for is bringing so much sadness to my blog. To add a little levity to this post, here's a link to my second blog entry ever, aptly titled "Suzie."


So Suzie,

I miss you and I love you and I forgive you for ruining so much of my stuff. It's alright. They were just things.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

the drunkest girl in the room

Have you ever been the drunkest person in the room? Everyone you loathed two hours ago is suddenly so tolerable and, dare I say, so wonderful that you could just sit down on the floor of the Vietnamese restaurant you're currently in and just cry tears of unending exuberance? and then follow those tears up with uncontrollable wails of sorrow that you didn't even know existed within you? and follow even that up by puking in your friend's hands before passing out until the next morning? (Long live New Year's Eve 2008.)

also long live every New Year's Eve since then

If you think this post is some thinly veiled attempt at writing about how much of an asshole I was this past New Year's Eve and every other social event I've ever attended that includes too much alcohol and not enough self control, you are correct.  You also hopefully did not come across this blog by googling prospective employees for your company. If so, please stop reading now, unless you are my current employer, in which case feel free to read on and fire me (jokes!!! those student loans are not going to pay themselves off over a course of ten years).

Whenever I get really sad or angry, I have a tendency to forget that drinking isn't actually a cure for feelings. I don't really enjoy talking about myself or anything other than cats because hearing the sound of my own voice makes me want to start planning my own funeral. So rather than discuss my very real feelings of uselessness and mediocrity, I turn instead to tequila shots and the tears simply follow suit, typically unprompted. Most of the time this is a subconscious decision to turn to alcohol in times of much needed emotional purging. Unfortunately, the truth surfaces only after I've had four shots too many, and at that point there is no turning back. Because if I could turn back time, if I could find a way, I'd take back those words that hurt you and you'd stay.

everything I've ever needed to learn about life I've learned while watching The Simpsons
I can probably drink Ke$ha under the table, but believe me, no one wants to see me try (ask anyone who has hi Nancy!). I've thrown up in parking lots, cabs, restaurant floors, my own hands, the list is going to stop here even though it could continue. and trust me when I tell you the tequila does not taste as good coming up as it does going down. and let's be real it tastes pretty fucking bad going down to begin with.

While being the drunkest person in the room is super fun for said drunk person, it is an absolute nightmare for everyone else involved. Unless you're stuck with some incredibly douchey friends, at least one person will take it upon herself to take care of you, and drunk people are the worst.  They cry all night, pee all over themselves, vomit all over everyone else and are entirely incomprehensible. The only difference between a drunk person and a colicky baby with diaper rash is that the baby has the excuse of only being alive for like a month.  What's my excuse for 23 years of bad decisions?

oh that's right
As for December 31st 2011, I blacked out shortly past 12:30am (a new low) and left my poor, wonderful co-workers to literally clean up my mess. They took care of me all night, though I have no memory of it, which is the scariest part of drinking too much. There is nothing more terrifying than waking up and having no clue where you are, how you got there or who you might have slept with (but thankfully did not).  There's nothing more disgusting than rolling straight into a wet pile of vomit. There's nothing more embarrassing than realizing that the vomit you're now covered in is all yours, but the bed that you've soiled is not.

Make no mistake I am not proud of any of these things because I'm not 15 years old.  Drinking to excess stops being cool the second you can do it legally, especially if you're not only the drunkest person in the room but also the oldest. It's okay to drink; it's okay to get drunk. but it stops being fun and starts being embarrassing when you're throwing up last year's turkey burger all over your co-workers bedsheets.

So here's to my New Year's Resolutions of 2012: stop drinking away the pain and blog about it instead. Get ready for some painful prose.