Sunday, June 30, 2013

I am a Writer

Hello everyone,

My name is Tracey and I am a writer, although I adamantly refuse to be. I just don’t have the attention span or perseverance for this writing shit. I do, however, like most successful writers have a way overactive imagination that makes living life in the non-fiction world extremely difficult and just generally a pain in the ass. Why? Let me break it down for you:

1.   I am bored all the time. I am bored as I type this list and it JUST started. When you happen to naturally picture green furry monsters serving you coffee every morning instead of the flamboyant and fabulous baristas at Starbucks, it makes reality just that much more difficult. If the simple pleasures of life can’t even be enjoyed for what they are, then imagine how I feel reconciling the checking account at work or better yet- pretending that I care that this month’s accounts payables is out of balance by five dollars and 34 cents. Just writing that hurt my soul. I’m going to pretend I didn't go there. It’s not even getting spell checked.

2.  Sometimes my imagination bleeds into reality unbeknownst to me. Sometimes I forget that my dreams didn't really happen and sometimes I believe that my dreams will happen. I don’t mean dreaming of becoming a famous fashion stylist. I mean dreaming that someone will kill me through some sort of Jedi-mind trick and then bring me back to life and then tell everyone that I’m lying and it didn’t really happen thereby making me look like a crazy person. Not cool. My dreams are vivid though and they can be quite traumatizing so while it may seem totally unlikely that cats will one day destroy me, I still think they will. The Catpocalypse. It will happen on a Caturday.

3.   I am horribly impractical. My city recently flooded. The morning of the flood I decided I didn't feel like carrying an umbrella and I also didn't feel like wearing rain boots despite the forecast of doom. Instead I felt like carrying my vintage clutch and my Roberto Capucci leather loafers. This sort of decision making has repercussions which I don’t care about. Why? I’d rather feel fabulous than comfortable and quite frankly I enjoy staring in my own melodramas so trenching through 3 feet of water in designer footwear, already soaked head-to-toe, suited me just fine. I enjoy the awkward situations I find myself in and furthermore I enjoy a good bitch.

4.   Anything is possible. When you can imagine yourself doing something I really do believe the odds are in your favor so long as you believe in yourself and take serious action towards making those possibilities a reality. I imagine I can do just about anything and everything that interests me, and I’m probably right that I could, but I just can’t seem to pick one thing and focus on it. I wish I were only good at one thing and had no other options. My imagination just leads to analysis paralysis. My thoughts are like a video loop or circular reasoning. They just go round and round with no destination point other than frustration followed by confusion followed by further frustration. Humph.

So based on the above points you should now see why I must write in some capacity, somehow. I am far too inefficient and ineffective to be useful to the world in any real sense. The fact that I pretend to accomplish normal people things and go about doing day-to-day doing normal people stuff is completely ridiculous and a lie. Do not believe me when you see me taking out the trash or depositing a check. I am actually in a reality trance and my body is being controlled through automatism and self-help talk, “Tracey you can do this. Just pass the bag to the green monster managing the garbage chute.” I’m not even lying people. That literally happened.

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