Okay. So whose job was it to warn me about turning 25? Was it you? Or you? Someone needs to come clean so I know who to punch in the face with a Birken bag filled with rocks. And OH YES I AM still having a metaphysical breakdown as I slowly become consumed with my self-perpetuated shortcomings, thankyouverymuch. I’m just that kind of guy.
My entire life hurts right now and has for basically the past month. I just wrapped my fourth consecutive 60+ hour work week, I’m so consumed by stress that I have the spins, the shakes, the shits, the shingles and everything in between, and my life is so thrown out of balance that I don’t even know what to do with myself. Like I am actually, absolutely, 100% out of solutions, out of directions, and out of the positive momentum that might suggest an alternative to all my ideas that seem to start with running away to a country no one has ever heard of before and changing my name to Geraldo with a silent ‘G’.
Ever feel so uncomfortable in your own skin twenty-four hours a day that every single thing you do becomes exhausting? That’s me right now. Something is so out of whack that every second of the day feels wrong. Like I’m the idiot in the movie who runs upstairs at the sight of danger, or convinces the virgins that nothing bad will happen if they all conduct a sexual ritual on the indian burial ground. I’m honestly looking around corners to see an audience full of people screaming, “SHIT NO! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? DON’T DO THAT! BITCH YOU GON’ DIE!”
And yes, I know, I most certainly have spent the better part of the past twenty-five years of my life chasing (and finding) highs and lows so surely in some way I’ve brought all of this upon myself. Ambition and high expectations seem to be intrinsically linked with frustration and failure – which explains how I seem to ricochet between amazing to disaster more times before breakfast than the average person in their entire lifespan. But I really don’t know the first thing about settling for a happy medium…or if I even want to.
All I know is something is broken and I have to fix it. Or, something is what it is and what it always will be, and I need to break it. Also…don’t fucking read ‘Eat, Pray, Love’. Just don’t. I’m pretty much blaming Liz Gilbert for all of this. She’s so going to get Birkenrocked.
And no, this whole post wasn’t just for that pun. That was just a happy surprise for us both.
Exclude the newf from all sweeping ‘life sucks’ comments made above. He continues to be incredible and patient. OH THE PATIENCE! But seriously…stop liking him more than me. I see all you bitches making him the top search term on this whole goddamn blog and I don’t appreciate it. He smells bad.
[Photo Credit: Greything]
{ 51 comments… read them below or add one }
I vote you throw on a skirt, have Tia do your makeup and become a tranny dancer at a shitty bar in Vegas. Wait, what?
I’m sorry, darlin’. My life is basically a HOT MESS right now so there’s uh, no wisdom, just sympathy and a raise of a wine bottle to ya.
Hey now…I may wear makeup on occasion in Vegas, but full on cross dressing? NO THANK YOU. Although I could have rocked harder than that one that we saw.
Ben. I love you. No really, I mean that in as creepy a way as possible. I luuuurve you.
As someone with a similar HIGH / ohmygodkillmeLOW pattern, I have no wisdom to offer other than keep breathing and pretty soon you’ll be back having twitter conversations with Kelly Clarkson and letting other bloggers do your eye makeup and this current low will be nothing but a distant memory.
That is exactly what I need. Kelly Clarkson making me feel better.
I DESERVE AT LEAST THAT.
Don’t read The Alchemist, either! If you must, wait until you’re on one of the highs.
It’s similarly follow-your-dreams-in-order-to-find-happiness, but you-might-have-a-nervous-breakdown-or-lose-everything-in-order-to-work-it-out.
Or something like that. Anyway – love the post, and can totally relate!
I will steer clear. Thanks for the warning!
First, put down the damn Birken bag and do not, I repeat, do not put rocks in it. Jesus Herman Christ. Leave the Birken alone, better yet send it to me. Second, If I were you I would go for the alcoholism and try and get on Intervention and possibly hook up with the cutie counsellor the dark haired one, not the bald one cause frankly he just would drive me to drink even further and he is very creepy. See you on A&E my dear friend and I mean that in a loving but not creepy way.
A&E would be awesome right now. Fame clearly helps balance people out when they are feeling vulnerable, right Lindsay? Britney? Marilyn?
Listen not to anyone but me, for I have the answers.
Problem: You’re in a funk.
Solution: Wait it out, or visit Chicago and let us drink.
Chicago should be closer. Then I’d be closer to amazing pizza. I mean you. You and pizza.
Oh, Ben, I just want to put you in my pocket and carry you around with me every day. Even when you are completely overwhelmed you manage to still be completely adorable.
Maybe read ’4 Hour Work Week’ instead of ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ (which by the way also caused my life to veer off into the ditch, that Liz Gilbert is one powerful bitch).
Isn’t she? She blew my mind in good and bad ways.
what the fuck? we’ve been friends for 1000 years and you’re JUST NOW telling me that you apparently have SUPERFLUOUS BIRKEN BAGS in which to put rocks? WHERE IS MINE?
we’re in a fight.
(everyone thinks i’m a bitch now because i didn’t say i’m sorry your life sucks but i already did it on the phone SO THERE. YOU DON’T KNOW ME.)
p.s. i love amy and hillary because they each referenced me Adam Lamberting your face. xoxo girls.
pps. “Adam Lamberting your face” could be taken multiple ways and I like that.
You know how much I love a good made-up verb…thank you.
You know, I was reading all along and thinking, “Wow. He knows exactly how I feel. My life is just like this right now.” Until I got to the part about Eat, Pray, Love. I respectfully disagree. I’m convinced that the answers to my life are in that book.
It’s an incredible book that I was totally and utterly unprepared for mentally.
Birkenrocked… hilarious. I love it.
Now I just need someone to make it happen…
Ben, you’re killing me over here.
Birkenrocked.
Pearl
Manslaughter by blog.
It has a certain ring, no?
Hahaha, everyone stopped warning me when I turned 22 and unfortunately I forget all the time now how old I am and cannot believe I’m going to be friggin’ 26 this year!
I think they start just letting you blindly stumble along because it’s too late to change.
AWFUL.
It’s not the book, it’s the Birken. Clearly it is cursed. I will email you my home address. You can end this horrible cycle by cleansing your life of that evil bag. I will deal with your curse for you.
Yes, I realize this is a huge sacrifice and we have just become acquainted, but I am a generous(wicked) spirit and I am willing to make sacrifices for those who are suffering.
You are welcome. Also, the “Adam Lamberting” of your face really might be something you could look into as soon as you place the bag in the trusty hands of the post. It really was a pretty hot look, even the day after. Just sayin.
Can you imagine if I actually had one and I actually sent it to you?
You’d die. But at least you’d die with a Birken Bag.
Unfortunately I know all about stress. Second day back at work after a nice vacation and my eye is already twitching. Keep screaming at the PC, “Why??? Why? Why won’t you do what I need you to do?” And there’s no one to assist me with technical shit coz I’m the f*cking GIS “specialist”.
My macbook is my only ally. Once it turns on me? Game over. I’ll become an official recluse.
Here..this will make you feel better:
My daughter is giving me her hamster which will be living with me in this apartment.
Yes. I’m a 41 year old man. With. A. Hamster.
That should help you out.
I rented that movie once.
HEYO.
Sorry.
Dude. Ambition will be the death of you.
Come to NC for a week – we’ll drink sparkling alcoholic drinks on the beach and ride our bikes home. If we’re lucky, we can even get Ernie to pull us on our rollerblades.
FYI, if you don’t show, I’m doing all of this anyway. Sure, I may be a poor sob in a dead-end job, but I’m happy (when I’m not hungover).
I don’t know where NC is but I very much like the sounds of it.
Thanks for the EPL warning. I was considering reading that.
I know how you feel….I juuuuust barely managed to pull myself from the brink of utter insanity over the past several weeks. Working is for tools. Let’s take some Percocet and go to the beach and throw rocks at seagulls.
It’s seriously amazing but you need to be mentally prepared for the full earth-shattering effects.
You know I totally saved that drunk-ass gchat, right?
BLACKMAIL, baby. Just in case.
Also, you’re a cute drunk.
You’re going to have to be more specific….
What if we all just descend on your town and drag you away from work and whatever else is ailing you, blogger style of course?
In all seriousness though, i’m sorry life is sucky for you right now. Sending hugs from across the (many) miles.
That actually sounds pretty lovely…
Blasphemy! Nothing is more productive than alcoholism.
Then consider me multitasking.
I vote for alcoholism. Preferably with champagne as your vice, because then you’re a classy drunk with really expensive vomit. That GD Liz Gilbert threw my life for a spin too. Don’t read her latest book on marriage.
Noted.
Aw, relax, we’ve all been there, you just need the “whatever” attitude and eat some cookies or something. *hugs and kisses*
(just started reading you and it’s so fun! haha)
Thanks Rosa – any reason to eat cookies is alright by me.
It seems like alcoholism isn’t quite working out for you.
I’d suggest heroin.
Or meth.
Definitely, meth.
Maybe I’m just not trying hard enough.
Oh, god. I’ve missed you. I have no one to blame for this but myself and my horribly abandoned google reader. Still, hold me.
I have been feeling extra tense/anxiety-ridden/wanderlust lately. So I think I can relate, is what I am saying. I keep hoping I will wake up and the pit in my stomach will have magically disappeared overnight. Hasn’t happened yet, but I’ll keep you posted.
Till then, raving pups seems like the perfect distraction.
XO
I strive to keep a healthy balance around these parts between ‘feel goods’ and ‘what the hell are we all doing with our lives’
I’ve taken to leaving the office and walking around the block. Just breathing in, relaxing, checking out the sites. Granted,I am also in DC, but still. I have to step away from my desk. When I get home, I instantly change into something comfortable, lower the lights (which is needed after sitting in office lighting all day), and try to relax for a few minuts and get my thoughts together.
There are many days that I leave my house at 6am and don’t return until 11pm (and people wonder why we don’t have kids (yet).) I still try to give myself some sort of relaxation. Chamomile tea bags over my eyes to take away the puffy and relax me for a few.
A glass of wine always helps, but not a whole bottle.
I’ve just grown to accept the fact that my face is aging five times faster than the rest of me. Weathered, I call it. Hopefully I’ll look like Daniel Craig by next year.
Trust me, moving to another country is not any better. I just moved to Argentina, and now I have not ONE overwhelming job, but TWO, because the cost of living is retarded in Buenos Aires. I would like to have a more valid reason, other than complete wrecklessness for love, but I don’t. Maybe you can just have sex for money, at least you can take a nap while you’re working… and the clients wouldn’t get mad or yell at you. Oh, and you haveto learn a new language… making more things more infinitely difficult… like groceries, and not getting raped. Cheers on your quarter-life crisis! Right with ya buddy. <3
Birkenrocked. Sweet!
Birkenrocked is awesome. But Liz is pretty fabu, so don’t beat her too hard.
And seriously, love, 25? I just hit the halfway mark of my 30th year… Things only seem to get better with age, so just chill!
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