Well, so. If this blog is supposed to be about growing up, facing the less cool parts of livin’, and moving on with the business of aging gracefully, I suppose I should share this day’s activities.
I got a gastresophageal–something something endoscopy today. Apologies for the commercial at the front of the video.
Not much to say about it, really. It was a bummer going to this thing alone and having noone waiting to see how I was doing. I did get some semi-anonymous facebook love from high school classmates, but I had to practically beg for it by posting a few links and mentioning it in my status.
I’ve always been very independent. In fact it’s one of my biggest faults. But this living just out of reach of a whole sack of shit that seems like amazing fun is seriously wearing me down. It’s hard to come home every day to a giant empty apartment and not have the option of stepping out for a few drinks with some friends. Or even alone, with the possibility of interesting conversation with like-minded strangers.
So I recently read this book, The Paradox of Choice by Barry Schwartz, and it tackled some of the roots of this ennui I’m feeling. (Is it even called that? Do I care to make sure that’s correct?)… I recommend the book to anyone currently regretting any decisions they’ve made, or struggling to make some choice that seems life-or-death. It isn’t a very good book, but it had some nuggets. Suffice to say I should know better than to pine away over something I didn’t even really have when I lived in the fucking center of it all.
Still, coming home alone all groggy from anesthesia wasn’t the high point of this month.