I’ve had three events this year (the ABL party, Burning Man, and now JournalCon) that made me think, “This is who I want to be more of the time.” I’m trying to decide what about those times made them so much fun, and made me so different during them. I’m also trying to figure out how I might be able to capture the essence of that fun-ness and distill it into a sort of aromatherapy oil, if you follow me, and somehow scatter that oil into the bath of my larger existence and thereby spend more time having fun and being that fun party-burning-man-jcon person that I so enjoy being. Soaking in it, if you will. (Will you? No? Okay. It wasn’t that good of a metaphor).
So, let’s break it down. What did these events have in common?
& I didn’t have to work.
& I was with people I really like, and in most cases, love.
& I got to be pretty silly. I didn’t worry about being too silly though.
& On a related note, people laughed at (some of) my jokes.
& I wore some cute clothes and got some compliments on my hair.
& I got to sit around and hang out a lot. This included a lot of highly enjoyable and non-serious flirting with members of all genders.
& I wasn’t, for the most part, afraid of being out of place. The first few hours of JournalCon were the exception to this rule, but they were more than made up for by the subsequent hours.
& I got to dance. Not bellydance, just regular dancing.
& I was very relaxed and un-stressed.
& I ate yummy food and didn’t worry about money.
& I felt part of a community of like-minded folks.
Now, if I were a cognitive-behavioral therapist, and someone came to me with this question and provided me with this list, I would learn back in my chair, purse my mouth, steeple my fingers together and say, wisely and compassionately, “Well! Sounds like you should do more of the things you like! One hundred dollars, please!” And that does sort of make sense, doesn’t it. Obviously I’m not getting enough of any of those things up there; not enough dancing or flirting or not worrying about money. Not enough being with people I love. Not enough feeling like I was a part of whatever was going on. So it’s simple, from a cognitive-behavioral point of view: I have to get more of those things, have to do more stuff I like. But how?
Because there’s another list that goes along with that one up there. It’s called “Why I Can’t Do What Might Make Me Happy And A Little More Fulfilled In The Grand Scheme Of Life.”
& I didn’t have to work.
Oh, right, like I’m going to quit my job. Do I not remember what being unemployed for all those months was like?
& I was with people I really like, and in most cases, love.
Fine and good, but what am I supposed to do, move back to California or heaven forbid, Miami, just so I can be with my friends? Besides, everyone else was probably in their party modes those times too and maybe it wouldn’t be as fun to hang out with them on a more regular basis. And they’re all married anyway, they don’t want to spend all their time with me. What do I think this is, college?
& I got to be pretty silly. I didn’t worry about being too silly though.
Maybe I should have.
& On a related note, people laughed at (some of) my jokes.
That’s only because they don’t have to listen to me tell them over and over again.
& I wore some cute clothes and got some compliments on my hair.
Probably people were just being nice. They don’t really like my hair…although, to be brutally honest, it is pretty cute.
& I got to sit around and hang out a lot. This included a lot of highly enjoyable and non-serious flirting with members of all genders.
Slacker.
& I wasn’t, for the most part, afraid of being out of place. The first few hours of JournalCon were the exception to this rule, but they were more than made up for by the subsequent hours.
I was totally out of place and spent all this time whining about how everyone was cooler than me. Even at the ABL party, where I’ve known everyone there for ten years, I was still nervous about not fitting in.
& I got to dance. Not bellydance, just regular dancing.
I like to dance to stupid eighties’ music and I don’t know where to do that in Seattle. And probably no one would go with me, either.
& I was very relaxed and un-stressed.
I am fifty thousand dollars in debt! I do not own any property! I am wasting my education, and therefore, my life!
& I ate yummy food and didn’t worry about money.
Yeah, and a week later I’m fatter and poorer.
& I felt part of a community of like-minded folks.
I don’t think anyone else ever feels this way.
See how it goes?
The challenge here (beside the ever-present one of writing a coherent entry) is to stop making that second list. How many people do that all the time, I wonder. How many people are condemning themselves to their nine-to-fives and their commutes and falling into bed exhausted every night with nothing to show for it, just by telling themselves all the reasons they can’t be the people they most love to be?
I’m terrified to think too much about all of this, actually. I found myself thinking the other day that I wish I didn’t do fun stuff because coming home is such a let down and I get all depressed and sad. Isn’t that awful, that I would think that…the right thing to think should be, “Damn! I’m not having enough fun! I gotta get on that! I’m going to the rodeo this weekend.”
Not to take up your valuable internet-reading time with all my whinging about Life Issues here, but you have to understand. I want to be that person that has all this fun really a lot. A really really lot. I’ll work on that, and let you know how it goes.