Thursday, February 15, 2007

there's a lot to be said for nowhere

Next Wednesday seems so far away. Picture me sighing. Because next Wednesday is the earliest possible day that I may be able to eat solid food again. My dentist has a website that encourages patients to figure out ways to eat properly despite being unable to eat solid foods, but does so in a rather amusing way:
Hungry people become irritable and less able to deal with discomfort which can follow surgery.

Maybe it's just because I am one of those hungry people right now, but I find that priceless. There's a tone of "I don't really want to hear your b*tching and moaning, so, by gum (get it?!?), get yourself some nourishment." And let me tell you, strangely enough, I can relate to that in a big way right now.

All you women out there who torture yourselves with diets now have my much respekt. Because, let me tell you, as soon as I am given the green light, I am going to go on a binge like you can't believe. A life filled with only mashed potatoes, tomato soup, and pudding (although yum, I do like me some pudding) is no kind of life at all. And, because I am always acting infantile, I am particularly grumpy that I am not allowed to eat cereal in the morning. Life without my Cheerios is cause for much, much grumpiness.

Of course, my coworker T pointed out, rather astutely, that I'm always grumpy, so it's hard to tell if the liquid diet is influencing that at all. But at least I have an excuse now. And I am all about excuses.

The OG called me last night to ask me if I wanted to be his Valentine. That sounds so much cooler coming from a gay Brazilian man. Sadly, I turned him down since I looked like I'd been punched in the kisser, and since the dinner would go to waste, as I could not even drink wine yesterday. I got about midway through a sentence explaining the dental work I'd had done when the OG dismissed me with, "Ay, I have another call. I talk to you later." Ah, the GBF's, they are rather promiscuous that way.

I discovered something last night. I'm losing the ability to peacably watch television. It seems like the last few weeks of non-stop debauchery have created a new norm for me, and now I feel positively restless when I sit in front of the idiot box for more than 30 minutes. I guess that is not such a bad thing, although it's not like I'm doing anything productive with this newfound energy. I mean, besides knitting socks:

And that's all well and good, especially given that by next year, I may really need as many warm socks as I can churn out. But still, it's sort of dorky. And also, there are other, more responsible things I ought to be doing with my time.

And that's the thing. I know I am going to earn the Wrath of Khan from various people for this, but I really do think I am locking myself up in my apartment this long weekend. The broseph and I had a good talk about this the other day. We were discussing times when you know you have something important you need to get done, and he asked me if I found that I still slacked off during those times. It was one of the rare instances that the broseph and I actually approached things similarly. We both have this characteristic during times when we need to be productive- we tell people we're too busy for this, that, whatever, and then we find that, left to ourselves, we get distracted by an old photo album or a dumb television show.

But that's just a process, I realized. Both of us have to hole ourselves away. Even if we ultimately spend 50% of our time wasted on trivial nonsense, it's still necessary. Put in the company of others, we either feel incessantly guilty about the responsibilities we are shirking or return from those social interactions in need of some down time rather than energized to tackle the tasks at hand.

But my brother is frustrated by this. He is frustrated because he feels worse later, wishing he had spent that time with other people. Because he is a relatively social person. I, on the other hand, being a full-on, unabashed loner, have little to no regrets. In fact, I am more regretful that, more likely than not, I will succumb to harassment and guilt-tripping and probably meet up with one or two people this weekend, when really, I just want to chip away at the very long list of things I must get done.

At least this weekend, no one can use the "well, you have to eat" defense of making a dinner date. So, to sum up, yes, I am a jerk.

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