My body is in so much pain. After only two days of working out, I can barely walk when I wake up in the morning. Why is everything such a fucking struggle all the time?
I got to The Clubhouse at 9 a.m., settled into my office chair, and had finished all of my work within a couple of hours. Today was a bit of a drag, but that seems to be the norm in my personal circle of hell – otherwise known as The Clubhouse. Big Bird is such a fucking lunatic. I’m almost certain that she has some form of ADHD. Big Bird can’t stay focused for more than two minutes, and her mood changes about every three minutes. Both of those combined makes for a never-ending cycle of dysfunction, which is hardly something you want from your superior.
I have absolutely zero direction at work. When I try to make some headway on a project, Big Bird and I will talk in circles for hours, typically until it’s 5 p.m. and I have to leave. My latest endeavor involves creating and automating a birthday email campaign for members, which I’m actually quite excited about.
“It’s something I can finally move forward with,” I told Big Bird.
Naturally, Big Bird seemed offended by my comment. As if we have done so much else in our office over the past three months. We’ve done fuck all! The more I think about the master plan I concocted yesterday, the more I persuade myself to take that leap into the unknown.
Amidst the variety of web surfing and GIF downloading I accomplished at work today, I also worked out some financial math for my master plan. If I budget myself properly over the next three months, I think I should be able to save about $4,000. That’s decent, right? I have to get out of here.
Mom always talks about “knowing” when you’re ready to do something.
“When the time comes for you to make a decision, you should have no doubt about what you want to do,” she says.
I’m nearing that point of assurance. At the same time, I’ll admit that I’m a little scared to move forward with this crazy plan I’ve come up with. Isn’t that a good thing, though? I want to be a little scared. I have this thing laid out, but I think the risk of it all is kind of exciting. I need a shake up so badly, and they don’t call it that if everything is neat, pretty, and secure. I don’t want security or safety. I want adventure. I want to change the direction of my life.
Work progressed. It was what it was. Big Bird continued to interrupt me whenever I had something to say. When I would leave the room, Big Bird would also change the music she asked me to put on in the first place. In the interest of maintaining a good working relationship, I won’t be a bitch about things or whine about them to Big Bird. I’m just going to ride this Clubhouse thing out for as long as I can, make my money, and then get the fuck outta Dodge. I know you shouldn’t ever wish time away, but I am ready for this year to be over.
I truly believed that 2016 was going to be amazing for me. The year certainly started out on a very nice note, but things quickly turned sour. Then, I turned 26. I thought I would be able to put all of the mess that was 25 behind me, but clearly, that wasn’t in the cards either. Maybe I should stop planning for things to change, and instead focus on actively working to change them. I feel like that’s what I’m doing, though. Why isn’t it working?
One thing I am trying to focus on right now is cutting out a lot of distractions. I think the recent removal of my dating apps was a positive step forward. Clearly, they’re a huge waste of my time. Six years of Grindr, and I’m still single! Tinder wasn’t much better, either.
I’m also cutting back on my drinking – obviously – and have stopped smoking entirely, which I am quite happy about. I say this as though it’s been such a long time. You fucker. It’s been four days! Still, the mindset and determination are there.
With the cutting back on drinking comes a lighter social life, which I also think is a good thing. In fact, I might actually start going up to Casa Z on weekends to aid in avoiding the reckless partying that seems to consume my nights and mornings after. I’m hoping to get to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting next week, or the week after. I haven’t forgotten about it. My life has just been so hectic lately. I still think it’s important for me to go, though. I don’t want to bail on AA.
Work ended. I was fucking exhausted, so I went home, made dinner, watched ten minutes of TV, and then crawled into bed. Actually, I took that nap right after Stefan texted me. Funny. I was just writing about Stefan yesterday. Maybe he hacked my email. Either way, Stefan made some joke about setting an alarm in his phone to ask me out for a drink, which I didn’t really understand.
Stefan: “I set up a reminder on my phone to ask you when you’d like to go out for a 🍸 haha”
Was Stefan’s reminder for a future date, or was tonight’s message his way of asking me out in that moment? If it was the latter, he could have at least formed it as a proper question. I didn’t know how to respond.
Kurt: “I look forward to it”
A few hours later, I sent Stefan another text asking how his day was. We got to talking about our weekend plans, and I told him I was going up to Casa Z. Stefan probably wanted to do something downtown together, but there is no way I’m skipping out on my house visit. Plus, I don’t know if I want to go for drinks with someone just yet. I’ll go on a date, but I don’t want it to revolve around alcohol. I’m also trying to employ a much more laid-back approach to dating after my Debbie Desperate summer.
Against my better judgment, I extended an invitation for Stefan to join me at Casa Z this weekend. Much to my surprise, he actually seemed interested. I fell asleep mid-conversation, which kind of killed our momentum, but maybe Stefan will confirm interest tomorrow. If not, it doesn’t really matter. Hell, we’ve waited this long. What’s another week? I’m interested in Stefan. At the same time, I’m not interested in chasing anyone down to talk about my favorite color. I have bigger things to worry about right now. For example, how I’m going to lose 20 pounds in a month. Fuck!
After my nap, I schlepped to the gym and pushed through my usual workout. Now, it’s almost 2 a.m. because I stayed at the gym until after midnight. I had to do my full routine! I think of the gym as somewhat of a punishment.
“I don’t care if it’s late, Kurt. You wanted to nap, now you have to stay up late and bust your motherfucking gut!”
I’m hopping off the Hot Mess Express that I’ve been riding for the last three months. It’s time to get it together, girl!
I’m currently in bed at the Witch Cave, ready to pass out. While masturbating earlier, I weirdly decided to look at old nude photos of RX that I still have saved on my computer. Damn. I’ll give credit where credit is due: that boy had a great dick. He really did. I mean, wow. Sex with RX was probably the best I’ve ever had, if not the best. But, do you ever think that it was “the best” because you loved the person? I think that adds a whole other level of intimacy to the situation. Despite wanting to physically ride RX for days on end, there was an emotional component to our relationship that I haven’t been able to find since we broke up. I’ve come close – most recently in January – but after the way Logan ended, I feel a bit more guarded when it comes to sex and emotions. Damn.
I read an interesting article today, which someone had shared on Facebook. Entitled “How to Be a Writer,” it was a ten-point list of encouraging tips for someone who wants to write. I emailed myself the link, as I would like to revisit the advice every now and again to keep myself motivated. One point that struck me – well, one of many – was the idea of living below your means. Now that I’m embarking on the early stages of my master plan, this is something I’m trying to do.
“Time. It takes time. This means that you need to find that time. Don’t be too social. Live below your means and keep the means modest (people with trust funds and other cushions: I’m not talking to you, though money makes many, many things easy, and often, vocation and passion harder). You probably have to do something else for a living at the outset or all along, but don’t develop expensive habits or consuming hobbies.”
It was so weird to read those words. I feel like that’s exactly what I am trying to work towards right now. I absolutely have to cut back on my spending. However, am I struggling with my passion and vocation because I know that if all else fails, I have the financial support of my family to fall back on. I try to be as independent as I can. At the same time, someone who has no support could never just pack up and move home, or even fathom the idea of driving out to California. Maybe it’s a blessing and a curse? I don’t know. What I do know, is that I am always aware and grateful of my support system. I never want to lose sight of how fortunate I am.
I know that I have a tendency to get caught up in those “my day was the worst day ever” moments, but I’m also aware of how good I have it. Part of that scares me, though. Why would someone want to read what I have to say? How can my “struggles” even come close to the tragedies that people experience on a daily basis in other parts of the world? Or someone living out of their car, because they were kicked out of their house? Or having an abortion, being physically abused, etc. The list goes on. It’s all relative, I suppose.
What I want to find are my stories that I am passionate about. Stories that I know can bring insight to certain subjects, in a way that only I can convey. Or stories that make someone laugh and smile, like that time I took a city bus to Sea World without my clothes on. Even I just smiled at that one. I am passionate about so many things. If there’s one thing that Mom has always said, it’s that you have to follow your passion. So, I guess that’s what I’ve got to do!
I’m exhausted. I’m toasting you with a large movie theater cup filled with lemon water, in the hopes that the citric acid will eat away at the grilled cheese I had for dinner.