Well, Books of Adam has done it again. Every time I read one of his Hilarious-Because-It’s-True blog posts, I am encouraged to write (yet another) one of my own, and make believe that I will someday be capable of his NinjaMonk Level Three cartoon illustrations. (Actually, I don’t even try to illustrate my posts – I’d just be embarrassing myself. And if the wonderous Adam ever did happen to read my blog, he would immediately recognize my shoddy attempts at imitation, and probably NOT be flattered.)
Interestingly enough, the Books of Adam post I read today is along very similar lines to the one I just put up yesterday. It’s nice to have confirmation that other North American mid-twenty-somethings are struggling with identity and the inevitable decline of their future selves into sniveling, drooling, self-serving imbeciles with countless complexes. Our generation is doomed.
This is a funny alteration for me, even if I am mostly playing at this amount of cynicism. Last night, I had a discussion (read: over-sharing) about my past struggles with Lower-Case-d-pression. Then today I updated my Facebook status to something fluffy and smiley, and a friend of mine asked who I was and what I had done to, erm, me. Both occurrences have made me face the fact that I am a lot happier right now that I have been for the last few years. So, am I faking it?
I am forced to wonder what amazing, life-altering 2010/2011 situations I might have moodily glossed over while I was busy being all down in the dumps. Did my dream job slip by because I thought “I’m not exactly qualified for that”? Did a chance to star on a daytime Soap Opera for three episodes, before my alter ego/schizophrenic inner self convinces me to jump in front of a speeding unicorn, pass through my fingers? I’ll never know!
In all honesty, I’m not getting caught up in what I might have missed, mostly because I’m pretty well convinced that it was not much. But the niggling thought remains, (especially now that I’ve blogged it – why do I do this to myself?!) and now I guess I feel like I need to make up for lost time. Except, how do I make up for what I don’t know I lost, which might turn out to be nothing at all, unless it’s only nothing because I don’t know that I lost it …
I took a moment and put my head between my knees to remedy all the brain rushes from that last sentence.
Suffice to say, Adam has once again entranced (forced, wrangled, coerced) me into writing about things I am thinking, that I don’t even realize I’m thinking until I’m writing them (there seems to be an overabundance of paradoxes skittering around today). And it’s ok, really. Facing demons, past selves, and door-to-door Religious Advocates makes me feel accomplished.
It also makes me crave oatmeal raisin cookies. Right now, I’m really craving oatmeal raisin cookies.
Guess that’s what I get for trying to be deep.
Beauty in imperfection?
I don’t know, this post just needed a picture.