At first, I joked I must secretly be a New Yorker, or at least I would fit in well in the Big Apple that week. Week two came along and the Texas weather was still in the 70s and 80s; yet every morning I was draping myself in a pair of black pants or leggings, or a black skirt and a top, or better yet a dress, (the look always completed with a loose fitting sweater), like it was the most logical thing in the world. A co-worker even told me that all I needed was a pillbox hat and I would have the 1950s WWII widow look down-packed.
It wasn't until week 3 trudged along, that I started to sincerely question my compulsory use of the color black in my wardrobe. And in case you are wondering, yes, week 4/today/Monday I woke up at 7:53 AM (7 minutes till I am supposed to be at work) and saw no other option but a black dress, heels and sweater. Even my underwear which I tried, and failed (a couple of times), to step into, while wearing said heels, is black.
There is either a deep-seeded issue or a mixture of factors that is causing my vestment malfunction. Surely.
One: Black is slimming. I must just feel fat...Too simple. I'll dismiss it for now.
Two: Over the past few months I have been grappling with the decision of staying in Texas. My full-time cubicle job footing my bill to travel home or go out and get drunk, both of which I increasingly live for.
Speaking of "living for" things. The aphorism "I live for the weekend" has been ringing a little too true in my life. In fact, I haven't written anything since June and when I started writing a blog at the end of August, I got this far:
"I got laid last night.
Or at least I thought I did when I woke up. Then I realized I just had the most detailed, realistic sex dream of my life."
OK. So worse yet, I'm living for my dreams, which frankly, since that one, haven't been so great. They have been more of a nightmare. Yes, I know I'm channeling Beyonce a little bit right now. And, no. I don't like it.
Saturday night I stayed in and had a dream that I- get this- "blacked-out" a year of my life. As in, I just came to all of a sudden and I was sitting in my cubicle and a year had passed and I had blacked-out the whole thing. It was like Well Ferrell in "Old School" and I even used this simile in my dream as a means of explaining my condition. Except instead of blacking-out several well-formed sentences in a debate against James Carville, I blacked out 12 months of my mundane life and came to thinking "what happened?" Thematic right?
Let me try and do a better job of explaining my situation. I have a decent-paying, health-insurance-covering "job" in a terrible economy and that's where the pro side of the argument ends. Cons- My college degree is going to waste completely, if it wasn't a total waste to begin with, as I find myself getting more stupid by the day. Case in point: I'm using scenes from "Old School" to describe things IN MY DREAMS. Also, under cons, a monkey could do my job, i hate my life, etc.
It is evident I have become esurient for some sort of passion in my life.
Oh, and I just went to thesarus.com, entered in the word "squelch," since it is what my job is doing to my will to live, and I shit you not synonyms are listed as: "black out, censure, crush, extinguish, kill, muffle, oppress, quelch, quench, repress, settle, shush, sit on, smother, squash, stifle, strangle" and, last but not least, "thwart".
OK so all this bitching about my wearing black and blacking-out has a point. I refuse to live my life in mourning. Since I'm going hungry mentally, barely living in a cubicle, getting by on scraps alone, I have to make a change.
Ladies and gentleman, I'm over it.
