The terrible, horrible, no good very bad day  (or in my case days, months, years)  

 Remember that children’s book where that kid Alexander went to bed with gum in his hair and woke up with it stuck in his hair, then tripped on a skateboard and dropped his sweater in the sink while it was still running and he could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day. Yah I feel like that’s a direct metaphor for my life recently.  Kinda like everyone else is getting a junior undercover agent code ring in their cereal box, and yes like Alex, all I’m finding is breakfast goddamn cereal.  When did the doors start closing instead of opening for me? Why is it that right when I start to get the wheels going someone has to throw a wrench in there? I really hate when people just whine and complain but at a certain point you really do have to wonder what makes some people lucky and others not so much.

Alexander’s solution to his problems, “I think I’ll move to Australia” –yah my sentiments exactly. I can’t help but feel that things might be a little bit easier in Australia (Or Paris or Prague or Hawaii) Hell, my little sister wants to rent a Winnebago and live like the homeless hippies in San Francisco do! I would love to think that all my problems would just disappear if I move somewhere cool and exotic—but time has taught me that your problems do still rear their ugly head wherever you go…annoying but true. At singing time the teacher said Alex was singing too loud, and at counting time he left out 16--- he so poignantly asks “who needs 16?” I’m in love with this kid. Who DOES need 16?!?! He knew to ask the right questions—he was struggling to find some meaning to his miserable life—just like me! Maybe it’s my laziness or lack of ambition or growing bitterness that every time I try something I will inevitably fail so what’s the point attitude.  Yah that makes sense…but others happen to find themselves in a place of yes, or in the way of opportunity, or at the fucking right place at the right fucking time! Bitches.

Clearly I’m stuck in a rut. Beyond stuck actually--- fastened face down to the ground cement poured over me stuck. I can recall the exact moment I came to this conclusion. I was sitting in the drive thru of the local McDonalds ordering TWO (yes two) McDoubles, a 6 piece chicken nugget, large fry and a small coke when I realized….maybe my life isn’t going the exact way I pictured it. I moved home because I was in so much credit card debt (of which I am now free of), a friend got me a job working for a restoration company of which it is still unclear what the fuck it is I am supposed to do or what restoration and water heaters and re-piping even means. I was staying with a friend when he informed me his house had to be renovated by his homeowner's association. So it was either the streets or my father's. This normally seems like a no-brainer but you would be surprised how long and hard i had to think on that one. Oh, also I was waitressing but broke my toe falling down the stairs. 6 LONG WEEKS of the most obnoxious moon boot you've ever seen. Seems a little excessive, no? When every plan you've made falls through one has to wonder....WHY ME?!?!?! I'm literally typing this right now at Starbucks down the hill from his house so I can look busy and important—rather than do what I mostly do when he’s gone—watch 39 episodes of damages in 3 days.  The more I pretend to actually work the more I realize I probably should be working. This is the annoying part about living at home. You have much more time to think about what you are doing with your life. When I was up in LA I was too busy getting drunk and running up debt to even think about such trivial things. But here in suburbia you are reminded of what a failure you are and the ridiculous life you are leading.  Mostly when you run into people you grew up with and are faced with such terrifying questions like “How are you?” or “what are you doing these days” How can I put this delicately…. I’m still a disaster.  

I used to think blogs were only meant to be humorous or inspirational so I’ve been holding off for such a long time because I haven’t felt particularly funny and least of all inspiring. Sometimes I am able to be in such shit situations that I find comedy in my fucked up scenarios. But now things are almost so sad that it’s not even funny (Which surprisingly I laugh even when writing that line)  But a good friend reminded me that not everybody needs to laugh all the time or read funny stories—people like to relate to people. Period.  Whether that is through joy, sadness, weakness, vulnerability, failure whatever. Misery loves company too, right? When I’m down and out I love watching intervention or my strange addiction. It makes me feel really good about my life .. I might be living with my dad, working meaningless jobs, eternally single yet hopeful, and about 30 lbs overweight but hey, at least I didn’t lose custody of my kids because of a crack addiction. And sure I might have eaten a few too many girl scout cookies last night but ya know what? I’m not dressing up like a baby and building a crib to sleep in and I’m certainly not removing the other side of the fridge with a wrench to get to my alcohol supply or stabbing a bottle of red wine with a knife to get it open only to down it completely in one big chug (please tell me you watched that episode!)  My sister and I laugh sometimes because we remember the good ol’ days when she was addicted to drugs. Her to-do list seemed much shorter and less daunting. Mine consisted of debt, school loans, bills, rent, exercise, a job, etc. Her list was simple…. Find Drugs.  

And you know what’s even worse is when Hollywood finally does tell a story that actually seems similar to my life---thankless job, parents cut you off from money, loser boyfriends, chubby ---I’m abruptly reminded that these “girls” on HBO are in fact 23! That means it was 5 YEARS ago for me and I’m still pretty much in the exact same place….actually worse. I might have already blown my brains out if I didn’t have additional brilliant/funny/failure friends who themselves are miserable too. It helps to know we are not alone. How lucky am I to not have to convince myself or others that I'm living the dream life and everything came up roses. We can commiserate together and laugh at our misfortunes.

Poor Alexander had to eat lima beans for dinner and wear his railroad pajama pants ---he hates lima beans and his railroad pajama pants. I feel ya Alex.  The end of the story arrives and I am anxiously awaiting some intelligent insight into this life of gloom and depression –the way only children’s books can shed light on such things---but all his mom says is, “some days are just like that….. even in Australia.”  Simple.  Some days ARE just fucking like that. It makes sense. Get over it, maybe tomorrow will be better.   I would hope that everyone is struggling in one facet of their life or another. Does that sound as terrible as it looks? As much as I bitch and complain I’m sure there are things about my life that others wish they had.  Maybe my useless knowledge of the real housewives will come in handy one day, or my extremely high tolerance to liquor will prove useful, and maybe my ability to watch 25 episodes of Up All Night in one sitting will be the stepping stone to figuring out what it is I am supposed to be doing in this godforsaken life. But for now all I can tell you is if you’re lucky enough to work hard for the weekend, save some money for vacations, drink a lot of good wine with good friends, eat good food and laugh a whole bunch (at yourself or life’s absurdities) then I would say you’re doing all right. And you’re in good company.