Regis turns to the audience, then to his quiet contestant gleaming his perfectly polished smile. “Terrific, you’ve made it to the final round with only one life line left. Are ya ready? Hang on tight, because this is your next question.”
The lights dim and Regis begins. “It is a fact that you have been in a funk for the last three months. The questions is … what is the cause of your funk?” A.) Depression B.) Boredom C.) Lack of Sugar D.) Lack of Patience
Hmm, good question Regis. Well lately, I feel as though my motions have been a carbon copy of yesterday and the day before. I use to be able to fill those voids with a few glittery dinners and a couple martinis with friends. But, currently my change in life style has utlimately caused me to put a muffle on those wild and crazy nights. I believe I’m quite stuck in the middle of nothing. Regis, it might be Boredom.
Regis peers at his lovely contestant deep in thought. “So you think you are bored, ay? Why don’t you be a doll and give me your final answer?”
Well… I’m not positively bored. Surely, it is very possible that I am in a rather fundamental tranisitional period of my life and nervously picking at my scabs of fear. Which does not constititue as boredome. Because my fear of boredome derives from the trigger reaction of depression. The painful repetition of a motion that continues forever, no change, predictable, uncontrollable, one big boring unbearable loop.
With a quick wave of his hand, Regis interupts. “Folks, its depression! I think she’s got her final answer!”
Not quite. I’m not done. I’ve seen depression before, the ugly truth. You see this is why I took acid only once in my life, Regis. Once and done, never again. Because, on that night of curiosity I looked up at the stars and went on a journey into space. This ride took me to place I never want to go again. Flying through space I noticed how it continued forever, undiscovered, pitch black, desolate, endless, with out time, with out reality, because reality is only what I know and what I know might not be real …if we’re not real … then… WHO THE HELL ARE WE?!!
Completely aggitated, Regis takes matter into his own hands. “Alright kid, phone a friend.” He motions to connect the phone line. “Yes! Good! We’ve got Lincoln on the phone and he’s from … from… Uranus? Ok. What ever. Hi, Lincoln, you’re ON live from New York.”
Bursting with excitement, Lincoln regirtates his enthusiasim to the world. “Heyyyy, Regis! How’s it going?! I just want to say… you-are-so-awesome! Always had, always will! Love ya! Absolutely! Soooooo Awesome!”
Regis straightens his peach colored tie. “That’s grreaaat, kid. What chya’ got?”
Lincoln suddenly becomes serious and pauses for a moment of clarity. “Regis, she takes prescription drugs.”
He chokes in amazement. “What?! Alright, folks. Apparently, he thinks we are on Dateline.”
Becoming completely appaled in Regis’s amuzement, Lincoln testifies the truth. “But, she took acid only once!”
Forgeting himself, Regis shouts. “Freak! Forget it! What is this the Twilight Zone? For Gods sake….” He disconnects the line and stares at his completely self indulged contestant. In his last effort to keep his composure, he speaks slowly through his clenched jaw. “What-is-your-final-answer?”
Well… Persitently I trend to desire things immediately. Since, I am in a tranisitional period of my life I believe I am confussing boredome and depression with my utter desire for answers right now. And not having instant gratitude puts me in a funk! I guess that is my final answer Regis. Patience.
Alright, get your ass of the show.
~ revised version of strange humor~
Maybe it is low grade depression?