I want to live before I die. It's been said before, I know. Not trying to be clever or poetic or anything particularly special. I had plans to have a great summer. Things sort of took an unexpected turn. My vacation was ridiculous. Between losing the rental car keys after falling over in the grass with my pants down while taking a piss in the club's parking lot in Pittsburgh (and finally finding said keys in the apparent black hole that is my breast-esses) and getting caught in a mini-tsunami on Coney Island then having to squeeze the ocean out of my shirt while being dragged around Brooklyn suffering accusations of "party pooper," it was quite the voyage. I admit to being a bit uptight but catching pneumonia is never going to be my idea of a good time. I'm just not the "good time girl" I guess. I did have a good time with mi mejor amiga in the Bronx. It's not like I had a bad time anywhere else I went, I just had a time. Going from the day-to-day humdrum life of work, rinse and repeat to getting home at 7am after "partying" all night was a bit much to handle. But I think the hangover ended about 3 months later so it's not so bad. I finally had a drink again in September. And when I say a drink, I mean more like 48. My father died in September which led to a Henessey-filled week of mourning, but I'll talk about that in another post coming soon.
Anyway, after my action-packed vacay and my neice dying and visiting my father after learning he was ill and my Uncle Joe passing away and my younger brother getting shot 5 times like he needed a record deal, I have to say I forgot about all those silly plans I made. The classes, the gym, the diet, the drop of bad habits, the commencement of writing... it all just slipped my mind.
But after last September something started to grow inside of me. Ever since I was a young girl I was convinced I would die in my 30's, specifically from cancer. Sadly my poor health habits are/were becoming part of a self-fulfilling prophesy. I just sort of accepted it as fact, something that had to happen. Now I want to change my perspective. Not into a philosophy of immortality or anything delusional. No more predictions of gloom or assumptions of failure and inability. I don't care if I make a damn fool of myself or the whole world laughs at me. Corny or not, cliche and all, I want to live before I die. Period.
So let me paint the picture for you and wrap this up. I stopped going to classes I had enrolled in last fall and starting work multiple jobs. Too busy to think about my surroundings. And then near the end of the year I resigned from my job at the university. Well, at least I tried to. Wrote the letter and everything. Or shall I call it the manifesto. Told them I was leaving on principle, failing economy and all. Then I waited. And waited. And then I waited some more. My "bosses" wanted to talk it over. Being that I was actually leaving on principle, nothing they said could convince me to stay. So what if I resign or get fired. I'll just be forced to live out my dreams. Then a lightbulb went off. If I leave now, I'll lose a month of paid vacation time. A whole month. What if I used that month to help facilitate whatever dreams I have? So I go to this meeting and I smile and I nod, and I throw in a little acting. "I don't know if I can compromise my morals and ethics," blah, blah. Yeah, sure, you convinced me to stay. All in the name of taking my vacation time in Summer 2009 to think of what I want to do with my life. Perhaps I should try stand up comedy. It seems like it would be fun. I would really have to prepare myself though. So I'm taking classes again (and actually going), working multiple jobs, and working on my routine like it's my dissertation. This time, if the world laughs at me, I'll welcome it with open arms.
