Confessional

Every Saturday night I tell myself that I’m going to church in the morning, and then every Sunday morning I chicken out. You guys, I once jumped from a bridge onto a (slow) moving train; you’d think I’d be brave enough to put on my good outfit and clap my hands in a pew for an hour or two.

I think I’m just scared because I’m in one of those phases where I’m looking for something different, and church is one of the few frontiers I haven’t explored in over a decade. If I go there and it isn’t what I expect or what I need (which is what happened the last time I tried and gave up) then where the hell do I go from there? What’s left?

I haven’t smoked since Tuesday morning. I haven’t drank since Monday night. I’m not quitting drinking, but it’s sort of necessary to take a break for the first few weeks if I don’t want to smoke, especially with the mood I’ve been in lately.

When I studied abroad years ago, I learned so much about myself because I was so far away from everyone and everything I knew – I was only left with the person at the core, and for the first time in my life I could get to know her and see what she was capable of.

I feel a little bit like I’m in that boat again, only emotionally. What do I do when I can’t smoke every time I feel bored/sad/angry/fat/happy/relaxed/etc.? How the shit am I supposed to have fun when I can’t go bars or parties or even kick it at a friend’s house with a beer? I think I said this the last time I tried to quit smoking – the problem with quitting smoking is you have to face all of the problems that you masked with smoking.
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Yesterday I went to the Show Me Etsy craft fair and ran around Lafayette Square with a friend from work and it was the most comfortable I felt all week, because I usually see her at the office – not when I’m drinking or smoking – so I knew how to act. I feel like I’m having to relearn the way I behave around a lot of people.

I’ve started buying presents for my niece. I repotted my pepper plant seedlings and they are a little pissed about it. I’m going to take advantage of this windy, un-humid day and go running. I have RQ’s roasted broccoli in the oven right now. Like I’ve said before, this is a very responsible Spring. But if I can find excitement in the midst of all this responsibility, then I’ll be able to find it anywhere, right? Right?

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This is how boring things have gotten: I am still really obsessed with the Osmonds so I googled the shit out of them yesterday. Their Wikipedia entry reads like the freaking Bible. I love how their 100 children all formed their own bands and now there are dozens of tribes of singing Osmonds, like a musical version of the Flying Wallendas. I secretly desperately want to go to The Osmond Family Theater in Branson, Missouri to see all 8,000 Osmonds in person.

My favorite Osmond is officially Alan because he’s the tallest and cutest (and – I shit you not – he learned karate from Chuck Norris). I almost went with Jay but he’s the drummer and you know how I feel about those. Jimmy Osmond scares the shit out of me. My least favorite Osmond is Wayne. Sorry Wayne. Have I ever told you guys about how much I loved Davy Jones and Peter Brady when I was a kid? I think it’s totally normal to obsess over teen idols from the 70’s.

Next week: church? Maybe. Eh.

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