I just feel like I need to get out of my own head or something.
Langston has forwarded three assignments to my email for the advice column. Writing this stuff remotely, rather than in the office, might be just what I need to get my brain working.
22-year-old Karen Yates has written in seeking advice. Her letter reads:
Dear Daily Edict,
I’m in a new relationship with this guy that I really love. I fell head over heels for this guy really quickly because he’s not like any other guy I’ve dealt with in my past and for the first time in my life I feel like I’m being cherished and respected… the only problem is that he has a child from a previous relationship and the child’s mother is pure evil. She has done so many unthinkable and unforgivable things and I don’t know if I can agree to spend my life with someone who will forever be attached to a woman like her through the unification of their shared child. What do I do?
--Karen Yates, 22
I stare at her letter and open up a word doc to begin typing up a response, filled with warm advice and guidance.
But I’m frozen. Paralyzed at the keyboard… unable to type a single word because I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to her.
I stare at the time in the top right corner of my laptop.
It’s crazy how slowly two minutes can take to pass by.
During a workout on the treadmill.
At the end of a boring college lecture.
When you’re fighting with your significant other, staring at the wall while they’re giving you the silent treatment.
While you’re racking your brain for advice to write down for a hopeless soul who is so very lost and confused.
And in those two very long and very slow minutes you realize. You are more lost and confused than that person could ever be, yet you are the one assigned to be the answer to their problem.
Weird how things work out like that. And how they don’t.
I close the word doc and open up an internet browser tab to watch Netflix.
I turn on an episode of The Office.
Never really was a fan of the U.K. version.
I watch the episode where Dwight follows Angela in her car until she pulls over and he proposes to her obnoxiously and marvelously with a megaphone.
And she then reveals that her baby belongs to him… not the senator.
And they embrace in the warmest and sweetest embrace I can only imagine I might get to experience one day.
And I wonder if life could ever really be that magnificent. The way TV life is. It’s impractical and idealistic of me to ever think life could be that way but part of me wants to hold onto the dream of it anyway.
I wish God would just talk to me out loud sometimes. Tell me what my next move should be. Where I should go, what to do with my heart, what career to pursue... if I’m doing the wrong things... going the wrong way…
Symbols or hints in life are never clear. Murky signs as to what I should do next aren’t enough. Talk to me, God. Tell me what to fucking do.