Every once in a while, someone asks you a question that really knocks you on your ass. It's always something that should be harmless--one of those mundane, "how's the weather"-type questions that people ask to make conversation because they don't actually know what the hell else to talk about, and it catches you, in just the right way. Something about that mundane question exposes to you, for the first time, that you, your life, your marriage,your favorite pastime, something with you, is really, embarrassingly, fucked up. And you've been letting it sit for waaaaaayy too long. And you think to yourself, shit. And all of the things you ignored come flooding back to you at once, all of the things you swept under the rug crawl back out (dirtier than ever), all of the truths you denied come undeniably true once again. And now that it's been brought to light, you can't put it back in the dark. Oh, how it burns.
Of course, this amazing process of enlightenment happens entirely in your head. So in that split second where your life unravels in your mind, the poor soul who asked the question is waiting for an answer. And if you're like me, that person is wondering if you're in pain, because your face has suddenly scrunched itself up like someone shot you in the eyes with lemon juice. So now you have two problems: whatever you were bullshitting yourself in the first place, and the fine social predicament you've now gotten yourself into. Life, while you were screwing around doing something else, has kicked you in the face.
The question that got me? "So, Jane... what do you do in your spare time?"
Now, I've made plenty of comments in my time about having no life. They were jokes, of course, I didn't really think I was that boring. But this time was different.
Unbeknownst to the person asking the question, who is an old friend, my life had recently turned to crap. For all intents and purposes, I should have it made in life right now. I'm 32, good looking--I think, my weight, blood pressure, and cholesterol are all good, I have a great job and career path, a house and a dog and a husband. But recently, the husband had left the picture. After seven years of marriage, he had decided he wanted to separate, and spend every spare moment of his time across the street with his woman "friend". This man, who I had moved for, changed and rebuilt careers for, spent every moment of my life working for, providing for, loving, yadda yadda--showed his appreciation by telling me I used too big of words to be interesting conversation and took off one day. Gee thanks, asshole. Fact was, I hadn't eaten, slept, or had a coherent thought in 3 months. I was sick as hell and I was going to stay that way, probably due to my own cranial-rectal inversion. (That's lame-ass writer speak for "my head was up my ass".)
Of course, I sure as hell wasn't going to come to dinner with that fine news. No one wants to show up to a happy social event to end up comforting the pretty girl with the good career who's loser of a husband, by popular opinion, did her a favor by leaving.
So, when I was asked what I did with my spare time, I realized, I did nothing. I quite literally had zero hobbies. I belonged to no social groups, I wasn't on twitter, I boycotted Facebook, I had no weekly things that I attended. I had spent seven years doing what my husband wanted to do. I'm not sure if it's because I'm really that boring, or if it's because he was too much of a whiny man-child to do anything other than what made him happy, but I used to have tons of hobbies so I'm hoping for the latter. That one, stupid, boilerplate conversational question made me realize that I had completely lost my identity. And that was the kick in the face.
Shit.
I've never felt more naked and exposed in my whole life (and there are stories that really give this competition). I had no answer. I had nothing. zip. De nada. In that moment I realized that I officially Have No Life. So for the rest of dinner, I tuned out of the conversation and panicked. And I thought, "what do I like to do? what are my hobbies? Crap... what is my identity?" and when I came up with nothing, I thought, "ah hell, I'll start a blog." I've tried all sorts of things and fucked them all up, but writing was always that thing that kept me up till all hours of the night, developing ideas, fleshing things out, but most importantly, finding parts of me that I never knew existed. Now that I Have No Life, I think it's time for a little more late-night discoveries. Maybe if I sit here and babble on the interweb I'll become interesting!
So hello, readers, you are my newest hobby. I make no promises. I may or may not have intelligent thoughts, I may or may not be funny, I may or may not make you feel better about your own life because mine is ultimately more fucked up. But it occurred to me tonight that I Have No Life, so here I am.
No comments:
Post a Comment