The nemesis. The villain. The bad guy. Superheroes and regular humans alike, I think everyone has an arch enemy. Superman has Lex Luthor. Batman has The Joker. Jon Bon Jovi has Ninjas. I have… myself. Yes, it has become all too apparent that no enemy in my life is as dangerous to me as me.
It took me a while, but lately I’ve noticed some clues that lead me to this conclusion…
Exhibit 1: Only brought one book on my trip to Ohio — Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris. Funny, interesting essays that I almost finished on the darn plane. And then finished quite quickly. If I were in Columbus, this wouldn’t be a problem, but here in Waverly… well… there aren’t really any books stores. I got excited when I saw a used one, but I’m not too much into Christian fiction or the history of Ohio. Maybe I need to expand my horizons. Regardless, I’m book-free. Upon telling this to my dad, he gave me two books by Pope John Paul II that he said might inspire me. I’m not Catholic, but I figured I should take inspiration where I can get it. Pope John Paul II In My Own Words isn’t working so far, to be honest. Maybe I’ll crack open Crossing the Threshold of Hope tonight. Uhhhhg… look, trying to keep an open mind. No more far fetched, I suppose, than The Secret, which I now have on DVD thanks to a concerned friend.
Exhibit B: Acting like a jerk for mysterious, as yet completely not-understandable or at all rational reasons. Might be a sign of insanity (i.e., craziness and/or being a psycho). The result of this might be having to change my identity and/or location. Still hoping for time travel solution, but everyone tells me that’s not going to happen.
Exhibit Tres: Brought my running shoes on this “Get The Fuck Out Of LA” trip, but I am not running. Now, I have a nurse friend who insists that running is worse for you than it is good for you. I knew it was rough on the knees, but apparently it can knock the shit out of your retinaes, too. Possiblity for blindess or something. Seems extreme, and, besides, I can’t run more than a mile anyway, but still. Too dangerous.
Exhibit Five Minus One: I am a writer, yet I am not writing. I mean, I’m writing this, but, seeing as how I’m not particularly funny lately, and I’m not famous or even semi-famous, I’ll make no money off these blogs. So, I should be writing a comic … oh, wait.
Exhibit Five Minus One Plus One: I didn’t even bother showering today.
It is clear that I am the archest of arch enemies, and I must defeat myself.
Changes must be made. Is there a pill for that? I don’t think so. So, gotta get some mental power here. It might involve lying to myself until, due to my crap memory, I forget that I’m lying, believing myself. Yes… yessss… that’d be a positive way to use my shit memory.