Monday, May 18, 2009


I am an adrenaline junkie.

I work best under pressure. Back when I had to write papers for classes, I would sit down at my computer at around 8pm and write a paragraph. Then I'd get distracted, watch Se7en and Memento, and soon it would be an hour before the paper was due and I'd love it. Every minute of frantic typing and running to the classroom made college worth it, because I sure as hell didn't learn anything.

Heart-pounding. Gut-wrenching. The heroes of our stories find themselves in situations described with these words. I specifically put myself in these situations, because I don't feel alive unless my pulse is doubling and I have those butterflies trying to burst out.

There are some times in life when you just need to figure out something or, as Kurt Vonnegut Jr. says, "the excrement will hit the air conditioning." When you pace the same five-foot line on your floor, saying, "Oh crap, oh crap, holy hell what the hell do I do? Oh crap this is not good." I work myself into a frenzy thinking about worst case scenarios and how to deal with them. Just to feel something that isn't complacency.

I'm losing myself.

*I rationalize. I explain it away. I remind myself that the feeling I'm feeling doesn't actually exist. It's not real. It's the response to a probability, a statistic, a possibility, but never reality. I confront the situation to avoid the sensation. I never hid under the covers. I wanted to see what was coming to get me. When nothing ever came, I gave up fear.