Today, I blame it on:
* The unusually cool weather making me restless.
* Hormones and/or PMS.
* The waxing moon (it will be full this coming Tuesday) making me feel crazy. The moon mocks me.
* Extracting self from couch in order to spend an evening in a bar (The Living Room) on a Friday night listening to Momma belt out some kickass blues made me happy, but stopping by AC's on the way home made me feel like I'm 100 years old. (ACs is packed with the college kids on weekend nights after midnight.)
* Having too much time on my hands is dangerous. I don't handle boredom productively.
* After living alone for six months, still feeling lost in this big house and haven't been able to summon the energy to move into the larger bedroom.
* Alternately feeling like I'm not having fun because I don't drink anymore and wondering why other people can't be more entertaining instead of putting the onus on me.
* Getting hit on by men who use "party" as a verb.
And then it escalates to:
Why am I here? What's wrong with me? What am I missing? Where do I belong? Am I being tested? Will I pass? Did I peak in my twenties? Did I trade my heroes for ghosts? Does everyone feel this way? Am I wasting my life? Why can't I just bury my head in the sand and quit worrying that I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time all the time?
I'm going to do what I usually do when this happens: Make someone else take care of me. I'm plan to bring my Netflix three to MK's and take up residence on her couch until she throws me out. I'm going to make her watch Saw 2 with me. I'm going to drink all of her Crystal Light lemonade. Even if she gets mad when she finds out I haven't even read the book jacket on the copy of The Art of Loving by Erich Fromm she gave me the last time I was on the ledge. Even if she wants to smack me when I tell her that self-help books are crap. Existential crisis or no, having friends who love my crazy ass no matter what I do or say makes me feel better.