See here's the thing. I'm totally drunk right now.
My coworker (technically he's subordinate but no sane person would assume that was true) and I left our mutual horrid job this afternoon and went to Hooters to have a few beers and commiserate. I've missed this, on vacation. Not that I've missed the need to do this, since on vacation I didn't have any need to get drunk. But what I have missed is the chance to have a few drinks with someone who's going through the same hideous chain of events I'm going through and bitch. And then to get past the point of bitching and just talk. That's what i've missed.
I guess, since I feel the need to get wide every now and then, I should recognize that as either A) the beginning stages of alcoholism, or B) much more likely an ultimate recognition of the fact that I really hate my job and should find something else to do.
But anyway, now I'm really pretty far gone, much moreso than I would have thought given the rather moderate amount of beer I had to drink. But I am reminded of one very sobering fact: I really like being drunk.
Is that a bad thing? I have this feeling that it's a bad thing. But it's also a deeply entertaining thing, and right now I'm too much enjoying being drunk to get overconcerned about being drunk. Again, I'd assume that was a serious problem, if it wasn't for the fact that I don't get drunk all that often.
Then again, perhaps I should get drunk more often. Since I enjoy it, that is. Oh, me. Well, one of the more entertaining bits of semi-fiction I've written was done while I was drunk and was about being drunk, and this is I suppose just a follow-up to that. It's been a very useful piece, that story about being drunk, for my work on Lauderdale, since one of the important things about getting drunk is forgetting. People get drunk to forget. People who don't get drunk to forget, forget anyway. Isn't that the point?
Or, given what's going on right this minute, maybe the purpose to getting drunk is that Malcolm in the Middle, which is a decent show anyway, is really really funny when drunk. Ah, God bless UPN 44.
3 comments:
Hmm that does sound good. I think i might join you.
Clemsonpen is back? Did you breathe new life into your computer? Congratulations! Welcome back.
And, yeah, maybe it is fun because it doesn't happen all the time.
And at this point in my life it better hadn't happen all the time anyway. After all, I have to go back to work tomorrow, and go to the gym, and I have to do all that without feeling crummy. And these days when I drink too much I feel crummy. Damn crummy alcohol. Why can't it just be fun without any consequences? Why with all the consequences? There's no point, I tell you, no point at all.
Oh, Rachel, it's okay. I don't worry about my drinking. I worry about whether or not there's a better reason to drink. I'm sure there is, but for now the reasons I have seem to be good enough
I realize I may seem morose and powerless to you, but to my colleagues I generally seem absurdly carefree. Where you stand depends on where you sit.
And anyway, morose or not (I'm really quite chipper much of the time, though I'm aware that that doesn't carry over into this blog; but when I'm chipper I don't care to write here), I actually am quite powerless in several significant ways, thanks to my decision to sign away a decade of my life to our fair government. You have no idea how deeply jealous I was of you when you chose to depart Stetson. You were in a place that was wrong for you, and you wisely recognized it and got the hell out of there. Amen to that. But I don't get to get the hell out, at least not very easily. I'm trying, slowly, but there's a lot of paperwork involved and frankly, paperwork is just boring. What's to be will be, infinite turtles and all that.
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