For the past few weeks, I’ve been stuck in a rut. I haven’t been able to get much writing done. I’ve been hot-and-cold, trying to balance a few spurts of energy with an overwhelming desire to lounge around my apartment like a lazy zoo animal (one might call me a bipolar bear). Last night, I built a pillow fortress so that I could Lay Like an Egyptian while playing Sporcle in bed. It was really quite sad.
I’ve tried to get out of this rut. I started an exercise routine (it’s on the Wii, but it still counts). I took a cross-country trip home to Boston. I even started reading The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, which went against my “act coolly indifferent about the new ‘it’ book and pledge never to read it until it reaches the bargain bin at Borders” mantra. But even with all these attempts to jolt myself out of inaction, I still feel like a booted car.
Recently, I’ve been thinking… what if it’s not just a rut? Perhaps I’m a Boom and Bust, like Lindsay Lohan, Tiger Woods, or any young, attractive person who becomes heinously ugly as time passes by. Once full of potential, with bright, rosy futures…the B&B is now the quintissential example of a person who peaked too soon. So, am I one of them? Am I on the way down, too? If I am, indeed, Busting, then (1) can I make a comeback like Kobe post-rape or Hugh Grant post-prostitute? Or am I just going to (2) flatline into oblivion, like Ryan Leaf and Jonathan Taylor Thomas?? And is this rut really the beginning of the end? Am I going to just get worse and worse and worse until my head explodes into complete and utter failure?
No. I’m not JaMarcus Russell. Though I may be eating ice cream breakfast sandwiches today, soon enough, I’ll recover from this little rut. I’ll get my head back in the game. Because I work too hard. I want it too much. I can’t be a Bust.
(Phew. Thanks for the inner pep talk, me.)
…Plus, I don’t even think you can Bust without a Boom, right?