This is your blog on vodka

Thoughts seem to happen all at once these days. I’m driving to work, listening to music, or just watching the scenery in silence, and eight million words are tumbling around in my head, bouncing off of each other. Some of them are shouting, and some of them are just nudging me with their elbows, and it’s really exhausting to stop and examine each one.

I’ve even become too high maintenance for my counselor, and that is funny is a kind of depressing way, a lot like everything else in my life right now.

See, I’ve started making a comedy routine out of my daily struggles. I even have toyed with the idea of a Twitter account, aptly titled “Shit Sam Says,” which would just highlight the sadly funny/humorously sad things that I text or say to my friends and coworkers on a regular basis. Like this one today, when talking about dinners: “I’ll probably just have what I had last night.”

Coworker: What was that?

Me: FroYo and vodka.

The thing is, comedians do this all the time! We laugh because we realize, nervously, that we know exactly how they feel.

It is exceptionally hot in my apartment right now. I am sweating and uncomfortable, and I feel like baking, but I only have milk chocolate chips, and that is seriously disgusting. Who wants milk chocolate chips in their cookie?? What is that?

I could make peanut butter cake. Or cookies. Or a cookie without chocolate chips. Or I could not eat a cookie because I did have froyo for dinner again today, with chocolate chips (the good, dark kind), and nuts, and fruit. It had fruit, so it was healthy.

Please don’t read this as a cry for help. I’m actually, seriously, making progress and getting shit done in my life. It’s great. But every once in a while, when I don’t have to be up for an opening shift the next day, and I spent the evening in that awkward in-between space with Eric, I come home and drink and wax philosophic on shit that doesn’t entirely matter.

And tomorrow when I’m driving to work, all of these things will come tumbling back to the front of my mind, and I’ll wonder again if I should publish these thoughts. Who knows? Eventually I might even work up the courage to do it.