Me Versus Me in The Stuff That's Not Interesting But Is The Most Interesting Stuff I'll Write
- April 12, 2016, 2:50 p.m.
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- Public
I’ve been rather ill for the better part of four days. I can’t keep any food down, I try to sleep but just end up vomiting everywhere which means I’m incredibly tired. I believe I’ve lost weight. It’s just not a good place to be.
Everything is just so big right now. I know that sounds a little ridiculous, but it’s the only way I can describe it. Since I found out, I have been cautiously optimistic about the job in Paris, mainly because I knew that, aside from money, there would be a hug obstacle. Today, that obstacle revealed itself. I must submit to an FBI background check, which typically isn’t that big of a deal, but because of the circumstances of my coming nearly fifteen years ago, I am concerned that it could greatly jeopardize my chances of actually getting the position.
I’m supposed to go on that vacation on Sunday. I think it’ll be good to go out into the woods and get my head screwed on, but I can’t really seem to get myself excited about it. I can’t get excited by anything. Every time I start to get a little excited, my head steps in and pulls on the reigns telling me to calm down and be prepared for the worst.
I want to get excited for once in my life. I want to be happy for myself, regardless of whether or not I actually end up going, I want to be proud of my accomplishment in being selected… as opposed to throwing it into my closet of accolades, just like I do with everything else.
I didn’t get excited when I started making money at comedy, I didn’t get excited when I went on my first tour, I didn’t get excited when I first moved to Paris, I didn’t get excited when I graduated from university.... Exactly what am I allowed to be excited about?
I’ve always seen it as work… like me versus whomever is opposing my plans to bring me happiness. That’s not the way it works, is it? These circumstances could blow away like smoke in the wind all because of something that was done to me when I was 19, and then where will I be? I’ll be miserable even though I won’t claim it because I’ll tell everybody I’m above it.
Well, you know what? I’m not above it. I am excited, and if it goes away, I will mourn. And that’s okay.
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