- The economy is in the shitter
- My bike has a flat tire
- It's too expensive
- I have imaginary pneumonia
- I was forced to drink an entire bottle of wine
- I was kidnapped by Belgian pirates
- I don't know my multiplication tables
- I have no choice but to watch the History channel
All valid excuses if you ask me. They are made extra valid because I put them into list form. Lists are productive, right?! I am so good at procrastinating that I have even figured out ways to procrastinate the use of my favorite "procrastination tool"... my blog. I am a joke.
I know that I've reached joke status because I actually said to myself the other day, "I need to buy another pair of sweat pants because I am wearing out the two pairs that I already own." Devastating. This was followed later in the week by another little gem of a quote: "I totally understand now why moms cut off all of their hair, long hair is just a hassle." My pathetic level peaked when I was riding the train one day, but before I get to the point, I must mention this fact; a Belgian woman would never be caught dead wearing sweat pants in public. They are completely put together at all times, wearing high heeled boots and with everything matching. Work, school, grocery shopping, and walking the dog are all activities that require getting fully "dressed" in Belgium. That being said, when I ride the train to volleyball practice I am ALWAYS dressed in my sweats. This alone makes it obvious that I am American. But one fateful day I took it to a new level. For once I was actually wearing jeans and a proper coat, but I had only brought with me a flimsy pair of flats to wear and it had begun to snow. The only other clothes that I had with me were my volleyball clothes. So I'm just going to come out with it. The only practical thing to do was to put on my tennis shoes, my white and pink Nike "trainers" to be exact (I will call them trainers in homage to the 1980s when women walked to work in blazers with shoulder pads, skirts, nylons, and their tennis shoes complete with orthotics). That's right; I wore Nikes with my skinny jeans without thinking twice about it. We're talking about the girl that used to wear flip flops in the winter in Seattle. What has happened to me?! I am not a working woman of the 1980s, nor do I have any children. If I'm not careful I'll be wearing jeans pulled over my belly button, and velcro shoes within a month. This alone is enough of a reason for me to get serious about getting a job.
I need someone to light a giant fire under my ass. New Year's resolutions are total crocks of shit if you ask me, and that won't cut it as motivation for me. (I learned this the hard way when my best friend and I resolved to quit cursing one year and quickly realized that removing certain words from our vocabularies was completely unnatural). I am starting to drown in insignificance. There is nothing I hate more in this world than feeling stagnant. (Well unless I'm feeling stagnant whilst wearing Nike trainers and sporting a Hilary Clinton hair cut at the age of 23).
What are my options here? Let's make a list:
1. Win the lottery
2. Exploit my family for money by writing a best selling book about them
3. Get a real job
4. Become a stripper
5. Apply to a masters program
6. Become a creepy European street entertainer that paints my entire body and pretends to be a statue in the middle of town square
7. Have a bake sale
Ya. Gee. I just don't see any valid possibilities there. Bummer.
In other news, I took a day trip to Luxembourg yesterday with Damon and his mom Jenni. It never previously made it onto my radar because it is such a tiny country and thus I automatically assumed it was going to be Europe's version of Rhode Island. False assumption. The capital city of Luxembourg is Luxembourg for those of you that didn't already know that, and let me just say that it is a gem of a city. The layout of the city is incredibly beautiful with towering bridges, winding cobblestone streets, big stone walls surrounding a giant park in the city center, and brick houses lining the hills. I can imagine that it is exponentially more beautiful in the spring and summer time when there is sunlight and everything isn't washed out by the gray scale. They have under half a million people living in the country, and they have combined Germanic European culture with Romance European culture, making it quite an interesting little bubble. They have three official languages, including "Luxembourgish," which I shall promptly learn before moving there. It's not like I have anything else to do... and since learning Luxembourgish isn't on my official to do list, it shouldn't take me long before I'm fluent. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go get a life.
P.S.
Upon reading the first draft of this blog ( and by "first draft" I mean the post that I wrote and published without editing as per usual), my Mother told me that it sucked. She said it was scattered, disorganized, and poorly written. She was right. Thank goodness for moms... well, thank goodness for moms like mine who will be brutally honest with you instead of always looking at you through the maternal version of beer goggles, which cause them to conclude that their child is the greatest thing since sliced bread. Fine, I admit that my Mother still tells me that I'm pretty when I look like a troll whose hair could double as a nest for small birds, but at the very least she tells me that my writing is shitty when necessary. Plus, I found it fitting that my writing was disorganized just like my life and just like my thoughts. A true representation of where I am at this particular moment. Here I am people. Get to know me!
