MY DRUNK JOURNAL

Dear Reader,

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I’ve told a few people that I have this thing called a “drunk journal” in my notes on my phone where, in true Hemingway style, I write only after I’ve had a few. What I don’t tell people is what I write in it. Or when.

Because sometimes I write in it after I catch a reflection of myself in a mirror and decide to excuse myself from a party and walk home alone.

And sometimes I turn to it when I find myself in a corner, not talking to anyone and silently refusing to make the effort myself.

It’s not all bad, though. Some of the things I find on it are really amusing (and rather questionable), but because I really don’t write in it too often (surprise! I’m not an alcoholic!), the majority are just sentences that look like the last time I wrote:

“Sometimes I think if I wore makeup, maybe I’d get a man.”

What a stupid (and truly embarrassing) thing to say. In the act of full disclosure, though, I’m sharing it here because these are the fleeting thoughts that I shrug off when I’m sober, but can’t let go of when I’m drunk and everything seems to become clear as the guys approach my attractive friends and I am left to turn to my glass and pick up my phone.

I’m doing the Happiness Project this year, which essentially consists of making monthly goals or resolutions that will help you become a better person and make you, in turn, happier. I’ve been rattling my brain for a while now thinking of “themes” for my months. For example, January is to get organized, and I wanted other to be things like “get active,” “get passionate,” and “get educated.”

In the past I’ve always thought, “okay this is the year where I’ll start getting getting fit,” or “this is the summer where I turn pretty.” And even when I was thinking of this project, I’ve thought “maybe this year I’ll learn how to do my makeup or build an actual wardrobe.” 

But I want to get rid of all of that. I’ve always said that I want to work on the inside the most, but my outer appearance has always been of equal importance.

Not this year.

I have this new image of the girl who will be writing her conclusion in a year. And maybe she looks exactly as I do right now–sitting braless at my computer with my second-day hair messily swept to the left side of my neck and my nail polish black and chipped.

Ah, the unattractive picture of a girl whose life is anything but together.

 

But she’s not the same girl as me, and her life is together. She’s intelligent and quick-witted and funny and she’s so caring and loving and radiates warmth everywhere she goes. She doesn’t take life too seriously, because she can recognize what’s important. And she doesn’t care what people think about her because she has learned how to make herself happy.

So maybe she doesn’t know how to apply eyeliner or have the willpower to choose salads over burgers, but this is the girl you want to meet. Well, maybe not everyone. Because she understands that everyone has their own opinion and even the most well-liked person is disliked by someone. She has no trouble remembering this, though.

She is truly herself and okay with it–happy, even–in every single way.

But oh my gosh you have to read this girl’s drunk journal! It’s hysterical.

And not at all depressing.

Sincerely,

Sammy

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