For a few months now, I've been fielding a common question: "Hey, is everything okay?" It's a funny question. It says a lot of things.
- "So I've been thinking about it, and you're depressing. Asking this question will do nothing, but I feel as though your actions dictate your hope that someone will ask you if you are okay!"
- "I wonder if you sleep with girls ever."
- "You haven't written a self-serving blog post in several months. I'm wondering if you've slit your wrists and/or fallen in love, because that's not an ironic either/or, at all!"
- "You are listening to a lot of songs with lyrics like 'everything sucks' and 'everything is not okay, somebody ask me if everything is okay. No seriously, fucking ask me if everything is okay.'"
- "You have gained weight. I don't really want to say, 'hey, you're kinda getting fat' but... you're kinda getting fat so I'll ask it in a different way."
That's the great part about the question: it's the nicest possible way people can think of letting you know that they think you are off. And you know what? That's fair. Because if you are awesome (pats self on back violently) and then all of the sudden begin to resemble Eyore in the middle of a Chicago winter who has a crack cocaine problem whilst living in a cardboard box with poop in it, then people are probably going to think, "Gee, he's sure been happier." And to that I say, it WAS Professor Plum in the Library with the revolver. I am not clinically depressed, but I'm experiencing what us white people LOVE to experience: the great white slump.
It's the greatest cliché of all time. Here's how it usually goes.
Life is going fantastic. You are usually dating. Probably someone attractive who likes to have "the sex" often. You MAY even be exercising (this usually does not apply to the pre-slump Drew). Work is fantastic. To the point that you are SURE you are on your way to partner any day now! That's why you went to college, right? To LOVE working! Music sounds good. You should start playing the guitar, you've always wanted to! If given the choice of pizza or a vegetable, you are going asparagus and you will tell everyone about it. You are telling people who aren't doing as well as you that they just need to keep their head up, look at how well you are doing! Surely, they will be here soon too! Silly sad people, you sure wish they'd just knock all that boo-hoo crap off. Oh well, you're too busy getting laid endlessly while riding a white unicorn of happiness into the planet shit-eating grin to let that bum you out too much.
Then, as though out of "awesomehappinesstralala" boredom, you have a bad day, and something in your brain decides it's time for a useless slump.
Maybe you and that girl break up (totally hypothetical as always). For all the incredibly tough, "oh god life is so tough" reasons like how your job is challenging and takes a lot of your time or something like they don't seem to like the same bands as much as you do (CLEARLY a reason to run for the hills. I amaze myself). Maybe you aren't exercising as much as you used to (shhhh...it was necessary for the post, just pretend i'm a marathon runner for a minute). All of the sudden you are eating fat-uncle-drew amounts of pizza that they may as well call the "we killed an entire farm of cows and put them on top of cheese" special. So that's cool. And this is the really fun part.
You start whining to yourself about things you wished you'd be doing but aren't. Really, white person/Drew? Really?
You aren't writing enough. Gosh, what will the world do without your silly little musings on the hilarious ironies occurring daily, like the girl ordering the non-fat mocha with extra whipped cream? You aren't doing 50 pull-ups a day, even though for you this is physically impossible as you should probably just start, you know, exercising in general first. You upset your best friend, and you are bummed about it. And he'll never get over that! You aren't reading enough. How will you impress other white people with your knowledge of hip, yet not too well known authors? Oh, and you complain all the time (WAIT a minute...).
Frankly, life is pretty good. And frankly, a part of me wonders if the slump is the fakeout mechanism people use to truly enjoy the disgustingly awesome highs of life. Sometimes, you just feel like things could be a little less "not suck" than they are, even if that's exactly what you made them. So here is an open letter stylized list to me telling myself to knock it the fuck off.
- When given the choice of pizza and "I don't want to throw up or shit my pants" food tomorrow, let's maybe take a chance on the latter. Just a hunch.
- Read a book. I know, it's hard buddy. Perez Hilton doesn't count. Nor does "that funny website where that guy sends letters to people and makes fun of them." Maybe start with Superfudge and work your way up to The Incredible Lightness of Being.
- Do a pull up. You are lazy. Do not confuse this with "the world is out to get you". The pull up bar is emotionless and does not talk shit about you when you aren't looking. Just calm down.
- Write more often. Maybe start with a post that is long winded and really hard for the readers to get through without wondering, "whoa, is everything okay?" and work your way back to "I fell asleep on a street corner and that's kinda funny."
- Make fun of the girl getting the non-fat mocha with whipped cream. Honestly, she just ordered a non fat chocolate bar with extra fat. That's hilarious. It's okay, go ahead! Tease! No actually, really lay into her. I mean, that's ridiculous.
- Sleep with attractive girls again. Actually, this should be number one. Um, actually, this should be your only goal. Turns out this just makes you dumb and blind to the rest of the world and aimlessly joyous about everything. Just think like a kid on halloween: "Get the candy get the candy get the candy..."
- Okay now stop writing blog posts like this. It's okay just this once. JUST THIS ONCE.
Ridiculous slumps like this beg the question, when are we really not okay? (You can read that like Carrie from Sex and the City, I won't judge even though you just judged me for using that analogy)
The answer is pretty much never. Things are pretty good. The giants are inexplicably in the playoff hunt even though someone's little league team could hit better than this, and they buy you unlimited red vines at work and allow you to follow porn stars on twitter and engage in a contest with the head creative director in which the winner gets this porn star to talk to them first. Don't you ever question this life, buddy.
So is everything okay? Yeah. Everything is okay. Just get Anne Hathaway to sleep with me and everything is fucking great.
At least I'm not ordering ridiculous things like a non-fat mocha with extra whipped cream.