The Motivation Absentation

I inhale and life is nothing short of incredible… I exhale and I’m sitting in my kitchen, fresh from a layoff, drunk from too much tequila with water up to my knees from a building pipe “overflowing” into my condo. As unpredictable and volatile as it is, this is life and it’s all we have.

(Almost) Everyone who has been involved in the shit storm in which I find myself has commended my positive attitude… rather than bitch out my building manager, I’ve tried to remember that this poor guy deals with shit like this all the time and doesn’t get paid NEARLY enough to do so…thus, I will not ride his ass for taking 2 weeks to get the insurance company to my condo. Rather than being resentful towards my old boss, I have chosen to remember that the nature of her job and the team on which I was working was to do stuff that I was never trained to do–nor is it anything that I want to be trained to do. I was doing (read: attempting to do) a programmer’s job. If I wanted to be a computer programmer, I’d give up my sex life to go do it.  No offense to all you computer people out there… It was just a fun joke that I decided to put in right there. Kind of.

The truth is that this stuff hasn’t really bothered me that much. I mean, I was long over-due for water damage to a place that I own and my job was getting boring anyways. I see this as an opportunity to get paid to do what I TRULY want to do right now: Nothing.

I’ve been blessed with the opportunity to lay around my house with nothing but my thoughts and shitty television, able to slow down for a second and evaluate my life as I peel dried Elmer’s glue off my hands (try it… it’s a healthy alternative to therapy). My motivation has gone on vacation and my vodka cabinet is full and while these may not be mutually exclusive events in my life, I’ve chosen to just embrace the present.

And until I figure out what I should be doing with my life, I’m going to continue to come down to my favorite coffee house, sit alongside my favorite Denver hipsters and their $1700 laptops, fire up my 2006 IBM with a fan so loud it sounds like it’s going to take off, and write until my brain can’t produce any more thoughts.