A RECAP OF MY WINTER BREAK

By: B -- 1/3/06

The good people at my nine-to-fiver gave the entire staff the week after Christmas off as vacation time. By Monday I still wasn’t sure what I was going to do with my week, but had numerous options. I could visit friends, write for my website, spend time with family, exercise or, most importantly, make some much-needed improvements to my home. With all those options at hand and an entire week to fulfill them, the following is what I actually did with my time. Please don’t judge me.

Monday

- Slept until 1:45 in the afternoon because I was up until 3:30 the night before reading A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. I’m two years late reading it, I know, but I end up finishing the book (430 pages of unpunctuated, surreal content) by the afternoon. It is a knockdown-dragout motherfucker.

- Feeling a little heavy after reading the most disturbing, heart-wrenching book in my life, I decide to reward my throbbing brain. I pop in the first season of The OC on DVD, given to me by my one-year-old twin niece and nephew (read: my sister), in mid-afternoon. I have watched the new episodes of the show from time to time, and I mentioned to my sister a curiosity in learning how the story began. So I’m mildly intrigued.

- Before I know it, I watch The OC for 6 straight hours, pausing only to throw in a new laundry load or thumb through my numerous gift cards to plan out my post-holiday spending spree. I envision wildly sprinting down the aisles like I’m on a game show, shoving blue-haired geriatrics to the wayside on my way to the Frozen Pizza section.

- Edit and publish my interview with The Hopefuls for my website. Very damn exciting.

- Turn The OC back on around midnight and watch four more episodes. Four. More. Episodes.

- End up heading to bed at 4:37 am.

- Read the first three pages of James Frey’s follow-up to Pieces, entitled My Friend Leonard, until I pass out just before 5. I have not left my apartment for over 35 hours. This is not a good start to the week.

Tuesday

- Wake up at noon because my boss actually wants me to do work. The nerve. Work for about ten minutes then head to my couch (instead of going back to sleep – small victory here) and watch two more episodes of The OC before heading out to run my three pre-planned errands for the day: DMV for a new license (I metro myself up beforehand, of course), Target for a few groceries, and the ATM for a deposit.

- At the DMV, I grab a number out of one of those red machines and realize there are 18 numbers ahead of me. After the first number takes 15 minutes – no exaggeration – I decide to come back later. The other two errands actually go off without a hitch.

- Home by 5, throw in The OC and watch while making a few miTunes playlists and starting a new journal that I name The Augusten Experiment*

(* I was recently reading an interview with one of my favorite new authors, Augusten Burroughs, where the interviewer asked Burroughs to give advice for aspiring young writers. He admitted he didn’t have much, but reluctantly said that the best thing to do is write for at least ten minutes, every single day, no matter what. It shouldn’t be fancy and it shouldn’t be revised; just let your fingers go on the keyboard. I’m a mediocre writer and I’m desperate, and since I respect Burroughs’s writing, I decide to give it a whirl. So. The Augusten Experiment. Now you know.)

- Pay my absurd credit card bill while eagerly waiting for my roommate Spoon to arrive home after spending Christmas with his family. I have been sitting in the same spot for the better part of two days, have almost drunk an entire case of Diet Mountain Dew and am pretty sure my ass has been asleep for the past few hours. The point: I’m afraid of becoming a recluse. Some human interaction will be nice, even if it will just involve me making fun of his archaic attire and him angrily calling me a “skinny little prick.”

- During my fourth episode of the day (16th overall) I begin to wonder if Summer Roberts and I might be made for each other. I am slowly going insane, yet I’m unable to pull myself off the couch for any length of time longer than the few seconds it takes to run to the kitchen and grab another handful of Swedish Fish.

- At 8:29 I run out to Subway to pick up dinner after having a vicious argument inside my head to decide between Subway and ordering Pizza Hut (the Hut’s the only joint that delivers). I hate Pizza Hut and hate myself for even considering it just so I wouldn’t have to get off the couch. It is at this point I begin to understand why I’ve gotten exactly zero phone calls from friends in the past two days.

- Spoon comes home just before 10 and is rightfully appalled at the amount of telly I’ve been consuming. He doesn’t even think it’s funny-pathetic. He actually seems a bit scared for my wellbeing.

- To prove the Spoon wrong, I get off the couch and jump on my exercise bike. I thrash my quads and calves for about 20 minutes (all I can handle, man) before quitting. But instead of hopping into the shower, I collapse on the couch and stew in my own ass sweat just so I can continue watching the show. I fight off tears at my pathetic self.

- Spoon and I sing the theme song California by Phantom Planet in unison. Afterwards he makes me swear I won’t tell anyone. I can now add “liar” to my laundry list of “things I’ve turned into this Winter Break.” Also on the list: glutton, laze and stank ass.

- Finish Season 1 at precisely 1:19 am, stumble into bed and reopen Frey’s My Friend Leonard. Read 30 pages before achieving slumber just before 2. I have finished the season. I am free from its powerful grip around my life. I fall asleep with a smile on my face that signifies my anticipated entrance back into civilization. I have big plans tomorrow. Tomorrow I live again. For the first time.

Wednesday

- Actually get honest-to-goodness work done during the day, making calls and answering emails in the comfort of my own jammies. Love jammies, wish I could work from home every day.

- Work interrupted with a quick (quick!) trip to the DMV. Afterwards I, um… I don’t really know how to say this so I’m just going to say it: I go to Best Buy to purchase Season 2 of The OC. I am so excited that I forget to use the gift card that I’d specifically pocketed just for this occasion. I am so ashamed that I can’t even look the cashier in the eye. Television shows on DVD are poison. I'm sure of it. The ADD-friendly storylines are immediately addictive, and hour-long shows have up to 20 hours of content in a single season. 20 hours! No commercials! Fast-forwardable! That’s right, you can watch 20 straight hours of one television show! But only if you’re as pathetic as I am!

- I speed home to watch my show. The car shakes once the speedometer hits 70, a realization that concerns me until I pop in The Hold Steady’s Separation Sunday. Life is temporarily exciting, spinning along at the same velocity it did before I began this increasingly-depressing Winter Break.

- Three straight hours of The OC that includes 30 seconds of actual human interaction: me calling the Spoon to beg him to go to a movie. I begin to suggest Brokeback Mountain, but since he’s from Duluth, the Homophobic Capital of the Midwest, I decide to remain ambiguous of my preferred film. He doesn’t commit, but all signs point to yes. I am the Seth to his Ryan... and that’s just really sad.

- Spoon arrives home. His first word upon entering and looking at the television is, “Again?!” I don’t even acknowledge his presence, but I make a mental note to research nearby therapy clinics.

- Finally get out of the house after 10 episodes to see Brokeback Mountain. Got lucky because Spoon had no idea what it was about, therefore was willing to come along. Was NOT happy with me afterwards.

- Arrive home to learn that my couch smells like my ass. Bad sign. Two more episodes before hitting the hay, again with hopes of getting more accomplished tomorrow. I remove my contacts, haphazardly brush my teeth and climb into bed around 1:00. I have set my alarm for 10 am, at which point I plan on installing laminate flooring in my entryway. Big plans for me tomorrow. Watch out world.

- 15 minutes later I climb out of bed and watch four more episodes of The OC. As I sit on my couch and feel myself getting fatter, I decide that this will be the low point of my week. Maybe my year. This is rock bottom. I was given this great opportunity, 9 days off in a row, and wasted the first half of it watching a silly TV show that actually makes more sense to me than a TV show should. The past few weeks of my life have sent me into a grieving mode, and this is how I cope. I spend my time watching a high school TV show, and anytime I’m in the car I listen to high school ballads by Jimmy Eat World and Dashboard Confessional. Because let’s face it, no one mourns like high schoolers. These are the things I think about when I lie awake at 4:30 am, knowing full well that I’m going to sleep right through my alarm tomorrow morning.

Thursday

- I was right. I sleep until 2. At 2 I sullenly walk to the couch and dramatically collapse onto it, reaching for the remote, the buttons on which I’ve memorized long ago. I have 7 episodes left in Season 2 and decide that I am going to pour through them in one sitting. I finally surrender to my OCDisms. I am not going to get anything done until I’ve finished the show, so I might as well get it over with. My previous rock bottom, experienced last night, has nothing on this new level.

- At 7:30 my life begins again. As Marisa turns to violence to save the life of her hothead soulmate Ryan, I stand up and stretch. As the season-ending credits roll I head to the shower to wash off my greasy film of indolence. I have just watched 17 hours of television in less than 30 hours.

- 9:30. Car. Downtown. Bar. Band. Friends. Laughter. Real life is, I realize, so much more satisfying than the telly. Spoon reveals to my friends how I’ve been spending my Winter Break, which makes me hang my head in shame. It makes people laugh though, which is sort of a silver lining. At least someone is happy.

After what I now refer to as “The OC Debacle,” the rest of my Winter Break is refreshingly normal. I ring in the New Year with old friends on an old dance floor. I have no resolutions.

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