Here's what happens when I stop having fun and start taking myself too seriously: I miss all the good stuff. Pretty obvious statement, I know; but I have an uncanny knack for getting wound up tighter than a noose - which I will quite frequently hang myself with.
The fact of the matter is there's so much fun stuff in life I miss when I get hung up (see what I just did?) on the small stuff, which is one of the reasons I think I drank in the first place. It helped bevel the edges of my anxiety so I could chill out long enough to breath. Invariably, I'd almost always overshoot the mark, but there was a window of coherence - usually between that second and fourth drink - where I could breathe and appreciate what I'd been too stressed to acknowledge in my habitual frenetic state of being. I called these my "aaaaaaaaah" moments, and I coveted them.
Since I don't have alcoholic beverages as my life support system anymore, I have to find alternative ways to comprehend serenity, and it usually comes in the way of laughter. They say laughter is the greatest medicine, and I'm inclined to agree. Granted, I laugh at the most inappropriate things in the world, but that's probably because I don't know how to process feelings like a normal person. I'm sure my Twitter feed is like a career condom, essentially preventing any sperm of talent from fertilizing the seed of advancement and birthing success. But laughter is how I know peace. It's light, it's fun, it keeps me alive - in the face of where I find my humor, I say this unapologeticly. At the end of the day, it comes down to survival for me.
Recently I've had my head too far up my ass with worry to notice anything, least of all anything funny. Fear has put the blinders on. Feelings of not being good enough have consumed me lately, and it's paralyzing. I suffer from a disease of perception, and from time-to-time, it's hard for me to maintain perspective. I know we all go through it - those crises of confidence that wear us down like rain on wooden shingles - but when I'm in the shit, it's practically impossible to get out of my head and see the bigger picture.
Sure, this is my life, but there's a difference between being the center of my universe, and insisting I'm the center of The Universe. We're all in this thing together, and I'm most understanding and empathetic to that idea when I can get out of myself long enough to notice ridiculous absurdities. Sometimes it takes a fresh pair of eyes, and, fortunately for me, my brother just rolled into town, and he's like a truffle pig when it comes to unearthing life's little nuances. Take, for example, the following:
I chuckled to myself, and then continued about my business, when my phone buzzed with another text:
|The text read: Just walked by and did the polite thing - gave this nice old man the head nod. Then I realized he was plastic. Carpool dummy: 1, Brian 0|
This pic jogged my memory, and I remembered stumbling across this car parked unsuspiciously in front of a grade school playground in my neighborhood. (Not creepy at all…)
Playgrounds make me think of kids, and kids make me think of puppets:
Puppets make me think of the these two characters I met at a puppet show… they were not performers:
|This is not Halloween. This is a Tuesday night in Hollywood.|
Weirdos make me think of Hollywood, and Hollywood makes me think of this bad omen, painted on the sidewalk in front of my favorite Thai food restaurant:
Sidewalks make me think of dead baby dolls...
And dead dolls make me think of decapitated dolls in truck beds:
Death makes me think of Mondays, and the napkin I found on the commissary floor at work:
Guns make me think of bullets, and bullets make me think of what was waiting for me at my desk upon returning from my lunch break at work the other day: