Tag Archives: laziness

You And Me Baby Ain’t Nothing But Mammals

April 18, 2009

I have a problem: I have become excruciatingly boring. Perhaps I always was. After all, I’ve never spent much time cultivating this image. I find that doing simple things like not dressing according to the latest trends, or not being up on the latest gossip, or just being a generally shy and reclusive person tends to make me pretty dull without any real effort on my part to further that image.

My friend James called me today and tried to convince me to “get all dolled up and hit the town” (his words) because he thinks I’m too boring. I have no friends, so instead of “hitting the town” with my ubiquitous, unattached, lusty, twenty-something peers I’m spending a quiet evening out with my middle-aged aunt and uncle and my thirteen-year-old cousin. Perhaps the most appalling part of this is that I’M ACTUALLY ENJOYING MYSELF. Yes, that is the true mark of a boring person.

I kind of thought that if I moved I would automatically become more daring. Ooh, look at me! I moved out of State! I don’t have a job! I’m living dangerously! But the sad reality is that I have very quickly settled into a very dull routine: I spend my days filling out endless applications, dropping off said applications, and wasting my time online. In the evening, I play with my cat, read or watch a movie, go to bed at a fairly reasonable hour (10-11), and get up and do it all over again. I have to force myself to explore different driving routes, not because I’m scared of getting lost, but because in three weeks I’ve become comfortable with the status quo.

As I have mentioned before (here) I am a naturally lazy creature. Yesterday I put on makeup for the first time since I’ve moved (including mascara) and felt that the effort was Herculean enough that it should have merited some sort of public recognition. Like, when my aunt and cousins and I went out to Red Robin in the evening, the staff really ought to have serenaded me with a rollicking and painfully off-key rendition of “I’m Too Sexy”. Instead, they kept singing “Happy Birthday” to all the tables around us, and the MOTHERFUCKING KIDS KEPT POPPING THE MOTHERFUCKING BALLOONS. But I digress. The point is that I consider the day to be a success if I am showered and clothed in something other than sweatpants or unwashed jeans. Makeup is entirely superfluous.

I began this lengthy defense of my boring nature by stating that I have a problem. I have a lot of problems, and really this is probably the one of least import (namely because it prevents my other problems from becoming too excessive), but it’s also a problem I can do something about. As I said, I don’t really care if I’m perceived as being boring, but I DO care if I’m becoming apathetic, or content with mediocrity. I didn’t relocate just to continue falling into the same rut.

I need to shake things up. Any suggestions? (Preferably nothing self-destructive, as I’ve already invested a great deal of energy into things of that nature).

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Pondering: Laziness

April 4, 2009

After weeks of quitting, quitting quitting, and quitting quitting quitting smoking (et cetera, ad nauseam) for Lent, I finally gave up on trying to keep any sort of blog about the whole debacle. It is frankly embarrassing just how difficult it was for me, a fairly casual smoker, to quit. The more I thought about quitting, the more I told people I had quit, the more I wanted to quit, the more I craved it.

It certainly didn’t help that the whole experience of smoking has always been intensely emotional and therapeutic for me, and since one of my roommates was also a smoker, at any given time I always had access to cigarettes (even when it meant swallowing my pride and acknowledging that I was failing… again).

Today marks the twelfth day in a row that I have not smoked, also, not coincidentally, the twelth day since I moved (actually thirteenth, as it is now after midnight). When I have to go out and buy cigarettes myself my craving is outweighed by my deep-seated and blessed natural laziness.

Which brings me to the point of this post:

The Three Greatest Things Laziness Has Done For Me And How It Can Change Your Life, Too
(Yes, that will be the title of my inspirational self-help novel, coming soon to a cheap-paperback-“Don’t-You-Mean-Augusten-Burroughs?”-selling bookstore near you)

1. I cannot maintain an addiction on my own power.
Smoking is a prime example of this, but also other substance abuse, namely, alcoholism: I love drinking, way more than is healthy for someone of my age with my history of liver damage. Thankfully, though, I’m so lazy that unless someone else is providing the booze, I am unlikely to indulge excessively. One could make the point that this is more due to stinginess than laziness, but the less I spend, the less I have to work.

2. I avoid many unnecessary altercations.
You may be surprised (alarmed, perhaps) to learn that I am actually far more inclined towards violent overreaction than one would guess from spending time with me. Because most people would consider me a rather volatile person already, I would like you to know that there are many, many instances where I do not fly off the proverbial handle. This is not due to any sort of inherent goodness, but rather due to the realisation garnered from many, many years of flipping out: it’s a LOT of work to get that mad. These days I’m so tame that if you cut me off in traffic, chances are I won’t even flip you the bird. It’s not because I forgive you, it’s because I’m lazy.

3. I really can’t be bothered to think of a third point.

Laziness (or, “Sloth”) is considered one of the Seven Deadly Sins, but really, if it prevents me from committing the other six, can it be all that bad?

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