HAIRSHIRT
Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery
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HAIRSHIRT Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery |
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Sunday, January 22, 2006Year of the Joe Dog
I've had a lot of stuff going on in the last month. It's been one of those months that sort of brings things into focus. And one thing that it's made me focus on is the fact that I have a whole blimp-full of shit that I am no closer to accomplishing than I was when I was 23. I'm not saying that I'm living the same life that I did when I was 23, because that would mean that I was working at Barnes & Noble and making $7/hour. I'm now up to $8. (Adjusted for inflation.)
It's odd, because there was a time in my life when I had epiphanies like this basically every other week. And I would steel my resolve to do something about it. And I would almost immediately go right back to the same shit I was doing before the epiphany. After awhile, I came to the realization that epiphanies are full of it. And I ignored them whenever they came knocking from there on out. Fuck epiphanies. But this is a little different. This time, I've had to deal with some things that I don't normally like to think about. And it's driven home that I need to actually take some steps toward achieving my goals. As nice as it might be to sit back with a beer in one hand and Mr. Howdy in the other (Mr. Howdy being a nickname for my penis), nobody is going to stumble on my blog and say, "Hey, this guy's funny. I wonder if he has a screenplay he might be willing to sell me." Neither, in all likelihood, are my sketch shows going to bring in an agent who will immediately recognize the untapped genius before him/her and speed-dial The Daily Show to get me on their staff. So I need to be a little--as the business-types say--"proactive". (Which I think means "not quite so much with the head up one's ass".) Which is why I'm making a New Year's resolution. Not for the New Year that happened three weeks ago. That New Year is all about holding back the streams of vomit that want to come roaring out of your throat after your twentieth jello shot. No, I'm talking about the New Year that counts: Chinese New Year. See, one week from today, we enter The Year of the Dog. By coincidence, I happen to have been born in the Year of the Dog. By another coincidence, the last time we had a Year of the Dog, I met and fell in love with my wife. By yet another coincidence, I really like dogs. And so, I, Joe Wack, declare that this will be the year. This will be the year that I make it fucking happen. This is the year I step up to the plate and smash the living shit outta the ball. This will be the Year of the Joe Dog. And if, by some unhappy chance, I'm not one jot closer to where I wanted to be by the time we move on to the Year of the Pig, then I'm gonna pack it in and figure out some other career in which I can make a comfortable living until I take my last wheezing breath on my death bed. Year of the Dog, baby.
Comments:
"But this is a little different. This time, I've had to deal with some things that I don't normally like to think about."
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Care to elaborate? Or was what followed the actual elaboration of said comment? That Girl
# posted by
 : 1:36 AM
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