It Takes Time

5/17

Fuck this. I am grateful that I got gifts today. I am grateful for all of them except this fucking gratitude journal. This journal is a fucking chore. I am an adult I have enough chores.

P.S. Do not tell anyone I referred to myself as an adult.

5/18

Day two. I am grateful that I found my favorite pen. Look at the shape and style of these words I am writing right now. Look at how even and smooth my letters are. You should be jealous that you will never be able to form loops and lines as beautiful as these. I am grateful that I have made you jealous with my beautiful pen and gorgeous lettering. This isn’t a just a pen, its a writing experience.

5/19

I spent most of my day staring. I spent a few hours staring out the window in my bedroom. A few staring at Netflix previews. A few more out the window in the kitchen. A couple of minutes here and there staring into the abyss of the fridge and a few into the abyss of the cabinets. There was the 45 minutes of staring at the screen on the Peloton (I’m bougie bitch). Another 45 minutes staring at the ceiling while lying on the floor trying to catch my breath. 20 minutes starting at the wall in the shower, specifically that one tile that looks a little like an owl. Another hour or so staring at a book I don’t want to read, but I want to want to read. Now I’m staring at this page and occasionally gracing it with my brilliance. I am giving myself credit for doing more than just staring. I’m going to go jerk it now. I’m grateful that the wifi is working and that porn is plentiful.

5/21

I’m grateful I skipped doing this shit yesterday. I am the opposite of grateful (remorseful, but more angry) that I actually feel guilty about that shit. It’s like I can’t even enjoy being grateful for not doing something I don’t want to do. To be fair there’s not a lot that I actually want to do besides hide from the world.

Even though I think this is dumb and a waste of time I did promise Mari that I would give keeping a ‘gratitude journal’ a ‘real try.’ I wish I hadn’t agreed to a ‘real try’ being a month. A month is a long fucking time to a serial hobby abandoner.

Looking through my shit you will find a ton of shit you could try. I highly suggest that you do (whoever you are). I would be grateful to get rid of a bunch of shit. I can’t do it because then I’d have to admit how many ‘interests’ I’ve lost. By lost, I mean quit. Quitting is fun as long as you can ignore the fact that you are a persistent and consistent failure.

5/22

I am legit grateful that I have the apartment to myself. I would be more than cool with no one coming back for a minute and a half longer than they said. This not having people around is divine. I am sure they are having more fun out there in the world, wherever they are, than here where I am eating any food they left behind and looking through all their shit.I haven’t come across anything incriminating yet, maybe later. Hopefully later. I’d be nice to know I’m not the only piece of shit that lives here. I am grateful that I have to time to snoop and don’t have to hurry to clean it up. It really makes intruding on my roommates’ privacy much more relaxing.

Update

Good news: My roommates are not pieces of shit. Bad news: My roommates are not pieces of shit. I’m grateful for the good news. I mean, who wants to live with a with a piece of shit? I’m less grateful for the bad news since it means I’m tricking my perfectly nice and pleasant roommates into living with a piece of shit.

5/23

I’m grateful I remembered to put everyone’s shit back. I am also very grateful for alcohol and marijuana.

5/24

Hear ye, Hear ye. Let it be known that the great Lord and Lady of 8 Pendergast Lane in celebration of something or other are having a cookout on the aftermorrow with festivities, feasting, dancing, and general tomfoolery commencing promptly at ‘booze-thirty.’ The Lord and Lady in their beneficent and highly questionable judgement have requested that I, the village idiot of 3 Pendergast Lane, attend and rejoice.

Medieval themed sarcasm aside, I’m grateful I got invited to a thing with people that I know and like.

I’m very grateful when casual acquaintances bordering on friends host social functions. Not that I have friends, but if I did I would be less excited about going because I would be guilted or shamed into helping clean up. Sorry Ahmed, sorry Janet, I just don’t know you like that.Maybe in some distant, far flung, less medieval, more apocalyptic future they could even be friends, or something resembling friends as x goes to infinity (calculus joke). For now I am grateful that I get to go out and I don’t have to clean up. Also that I can leave at any motherfucking time.

5/25

I’m grateful that Stacy is apparently going to the cookout and also single. I’ll be super, extra grateful if I can snag a few kisses, even more if I can catch a titty or two, even more if I can engage in some sexual intercourse. Look at me being excited to brave the world. I guess that’s the coercive power of the prospect of penetrative sex.

5/26

You know what I’m not grateful for? Blueballs. There’s no world where I am going to push someone into doing something that they don’t want to do, but come on… we’re adults and everyone needs a few one cookout stands to round out their body count. It didn’t even need to be a one cookout stand even if you are leaving on a jet plane and have no plans to come back again. I promise I’ll pretend to respect you in the morning just like you’ll pretend to have enjoyed yourself. Who am I kidding? I’ll really respect you. I makes it more likely you’ll fuck with me again (if there is a next time).

I don’t respect blueballs. I guess I’m grateful that I got to do some heavy petting and dry humping that resulted in blueballs. Not doing that would have been less fun. I might have had to make conversation. I am grateful I could get out of talking to people, especially new people. New people suck, they’re all new and peopley.

Don’t get it twisted, I totally wouldn’t have fucked me either. Have you met me? I don’t even want to be in the same room as me

5/27

I am grateful I saved myself from the horror of feeling guilty by writing this very deep, very earnest sentence that will undoubtedly change the way I feel about myself, the world around me, and my place in it.

5/30

I couldn’t do today. I just couldn’t. It was too much and I’m not enough. As it turns out, I couldn’t do yesterday either. I also couldn’t do the day before that. The day before that I struggled my way through only to give up when I stumbled through the door. I don’t even give a shadow of a hint of a fuck that I didn’t write a word in here. I kind of wish I did, but I don’t.

I guess I am grateful that I can just disappear from life.

6/2

Mo took a break from being abused by 12 year old gamers and decided to check on me. I obviously didn’t say anything, but I am grateful for the effort. I am less grateful that his go to line was “maybe you just don’t get to be happy.” He delivered that shit earnestly as fuck too.

6/6

Characters:

M: Me

OM: Other Me

Setting: Here… in this journal atop the kitchen counter. Surrounded by half empty cups (I guess I am a pessimist… surprising precisely no one), unopened mail, a laptop, and the saddest, brownest banana ever to banana.

One roommate is playing Call of Duty getting hilariously and absolutely demolished by 12 year olds online. The other roommate is arguing with someone in Germ-ish (like Spanglish, but with German… get it? I’m very funny.)

Important note: The roommates are not characters in the dramatic work, they are setting. Do not interact with the roommates. Do not feed them after midnight. Do not get them wet. Even though there are no rules against it, do not put them on the basketball team.)

Me: I just heard this interview with the happiest man in the world. Please don’t ask me how they measure that?

Other Me: But seriously, how do they measure that?

M: Hey Other Me, I told you not to ask… now I have to think about that shit.

OM: C’mon Me, you know that doesn’t really make sense right? Happiness is completely subjective.

M: Look, having only thought about this seriously for about no time at all, I would have to assume that the only was to measure happiness is using survey data. Sure, there will be bias, noise, and collinearity, but I can’t think of any other way.

OM: Okay. Okay. I’ll give you that Me. I have some more thoughts on the technical aspects of this proposed survey data including, but not limited to, associated non-survey data, endogeneity, and appropriate weighting of variables. However, since this isn’t interesting to anyone, including me, why don’t you just tell me what you were going to tell me?

M: Oh, thank god. You annoying ass motherfucker; why do I even talk to you.

OM: Fuck you too, Me.

M: Anyway… I heard this interview with the world’s happiest man (not person, man because even in radio fluff pieces it’s important to minimize the importance of women and non-binary folk). It’s this little Finnish dude who is also, go figure, a Buddhist monk.

OM: What was his secret?

M: Gratitude. Just acknowledging the shit in your life and being grateful for it.

OM: I wouldn’t have guessed Finnish Buddhist monk if you gave me a million guesses.

M: Me either, but it tracks. Those northern socialist utopias always top the lists of happiest countries. However they measure that, you unrepentant asshole.

OM: You wound me grievously.

M: I’m sure. I read an article where they talked about why Scandinavians are the happiest people. There was the whole functioning social safety net thing with free medical care and education and a high standard of living. There was the whole freedom thing with rights and democracy thing. There was one more thing though: having low expectations. If you don’t really expect much, you don’t get upset you don’t have much.

OM: So the takeaway is what? Don’t expect much and be grateful for any crumbs that happen to drift your way?

M: If you ignore the social safety net and the high standard of living parts of it. It does make me think there might be something to this journal thing though.

FIN

6/7

It might just be the hangover from my brilliant playwriting, but I am actually grateful that Mari burdened me with this journal.

6/8

I’m grateful I didn’t skip being grateful today even if I am only grateful for not skipping being grateful. Tautology ftw!

6/9

Hey, check it out 69. I’m grateful for dumb, sex based number jokes. I’m grateful and mortified that I actually laughed at a dumb, sex based number joke.

6/11

I’m grateful I don’t have access to a gun. I can say with absolute certainty that I wouldn’t be writing this if I did.

6/12

You know what I am not grateful for? The fucking healthcare system in this motherfucking country. I just want some fucking help. I just want to talk to someone, maybe get some meds that work better than alcohol, THC, and DMT (not that I would actually give those up). Why is that so hard? What is the actual point in making struggling people jump through small, tedious, flaming hoops? I know its money, but…

I’m not for murder or anything, but I would be grateful if someone would just shoot one of those bitches to teach them some sort of lesson. I doubt they would learn it though. They would probably just wait out any blowback and then hide behind some flawed and ingenuous ‘think of all the jobs’ logic. You came here for politics right?

6/13

I woke up early today. Like early, early. Like before dawn early. Like ‘go back to sleep, there’s no reason to be up this early’ early. So early, that it is vitally important that I emphasize the early-ness over and over again to drive home the point that it was early. And even though it was so goddamn early, I got up. I remembered about a short drive to a short hike up to an old, not short fire tower. I took the drive, did the hike, tresspassed into and climbed the fire tower, and I watched the sunrise. While I was up there I found a little perspective. It was to the left of some bird shit. There’s nothing I can do today, so I’m not going to harp on the insurance thing no matter how much it sucks.

I’m grateful I saw the sun rise. I’m grateful the sun rose. I’m grateful for the perspective. I’m grateful I kept the perspective and not the bird shit.

6/14

Sore today. I don’t know the last time I hiked. It was good. I liked it. I should do it more. Not today. I am too sore. I am too sore to be grateful although I might be grateful that I’m sore.

6/15

Today was a big day. When I called my insurance company full of righteous anger and ready for disappointment I was connected to an actual human being with human feelings who was blessed with love in her heart and respect for her fellow humans. She did the unthinkable, she did the impossible. She approved my coverage. I am sure she then went on to do other impossible things like divide by zero, count to infinity, inhale while swallowing, keep her eyes open while sneezing, and looking into a black hole.

I am so grateful for Cheryl, that I got connected to her, that she listened, that she was willing and able help. It feels like it should be a small thing, but it was a huge thing and I really, deeply, truly appreciate it.

I celebrated by not actually following up with the therapists I was hoping to get matched with. Let’s not get crazy with it. Only one impossible thing a day. I’m not Cheryl after all.

6/16

I am grateful I found it in me to call some therapists. I am grateful one got back to me the same day. I am grateful (and terrified) that I have an appointment to see Quinn in 10 days. I would be more grateful (and more terrified) if it was in like 2 days, but I’ll take it.

6/17

I’m grateful I went for another hike today. I am grateful I got outside and touched grass. I am even grateful that I am going to be sore as fuck tomorrow. However, I am mostly grateful I didn’t fall on my face when that squirrel scared the ever living shit out of me.

6/18

So that’s a month and a day. I’m giving myself credit for the days I missed. 30ish days ago I was sure, absolutely positive that I wasn’t going to make it this far, I had myself quitting like a week into it. I was also sure that, if by some miracle, I did make it to a month that would be it. I would toss this shit into a trashcan, pour in some lighter fluid, and burn this bitch while I danced around mostly naked. I would have made a loincloth out of an old t-shirt or something for the occasion.

Now? 3oish days later, I really hate to say it, but I think I am going to keep it in it’s current state and I think I’m going to pick it up again and I think I’m going to keep writing in it. Seems like the Finnish Buddhist was on to something and it seems like Mari was right. I might even have to admit that to her. I’ll consider apologizing for being a douche when I opened the gift, a hilarious, good-natured douche, but a douche nonetheless.

30ish days after I got it I am grateful for the journal. I think it just took me that long to be willing to be grateful.