Just Relax, Goddammit

Today was a nice slow day. Or it would have been, if I just let myself enjoy it.

I had improv class in the city and then promptly came home. The cold I was fighting off last Monday resurfaced on Friday and I'm still stuffed up and coughing a little today.

So it made sense to kick back and relax after my allotted activity for the day. But something that nagged me in the back of my mind, that nags me almost constantly since I've been unemployed, is that I don't do enough in a day.

Instead of "doing more" I colored on the couch (yes, with a literal goddamn coloring book) with Megan and Renee and watched Jane the Virgin (which I think I've successfully gotten Megan addicted to). Around 9 they left to go out, and I opted to stay in.

It feels like I do nothing with my time and it all just blurs together into one big mash. Or, more eloquently put from East of Eden:

It is the dull eventless times that have no duration whatever. A time splashed with interest, wounded with tragedy, crevassed with joy – that's the time that seems long in the memory. And this is right when you think about it. Eventlessness has no posts to drape duration on. From nothing to nothing is no time at all.

After three months, it's unbelievably frustrating that I still do not have a job. Am I not doing enough?

I can't drink anymore. Last night at my roommate's birthday party I had a single glass of prosecco followed by half of a fancy gin cocktail. I stopped drinking the cocktail when I started to get a headache and even this morning I woke up with a slight one.

I don't take joy anymore in drinking, which, honestly, saddens me. I mostly miss the bonding that comes from getting trashed with friends. The things you say, the instant best friendships or even just the act of getting tipsy and giggly. Being drunk was an opportunity to transcend small talk: when it became a beautiful connection with another human being instead of an awkward monotonous chore.

I miss the Kris who was a little reckless, who would drink at company events and make friends with everyone. When you're drunk in a large group, you can feel the joy radiating off of each other. There's something so warm and fuzzy and infectious about happiness while young and intoxicated with friends you love. I'm just so happy to be here is a wonderful feeling.

I struggled a lot with anxiety at the beginning of this year, a real quarter-life crisis. I began to lose all appetite for altered states of mind. The smallest loss in coordination from drinking made me feel dizzy and distant. And so it is I have not been drunk or even passing tipsy since February, a good nine months.

And now that it's been so long, drinking small amounts gives me headaches, and that doesn't feel like something I should power through.

The party glint in my eye has gone out and I'm not sure how to get it back. Of course, it's better than the opposite: drinking lots and having no handle on that.