The last few days I’ve been falling into a bit of a slump. I didn’t have any auditions or shows. I didn’t really have anywhere to go expect the mall, but that is never a good idea. I only saw two people in the last three days: my therapist and my good old chum, Elaine. In short, I spent a lot of time staring at the ceiling and pondering the meaning of life. And that can get really depressing.
This morning I got a phone call from my mom to remind me that I was supposed to send my CV to my high school principal. You see, I went to an A.C.E. school. This stands for Accelerated Christian Education. It is a very religious school system that is often looked down upon. I’m not going to get into the whole religion thing now, but the system is good, despite being really difficult in high school. I mean, just look at how smart I am.
Now, the reason why my principal wanted me to send him a list of my achievements is because they like to show the world that alumni from A.C.E. schools do well after school. Well, I don’t know if I’m doing that well, but I did go to the school for my entire scholastic career, so I guess I qualify. Anyway…
I told my mom that I had completely forgotten about it, which was true. I was so busy wondering about what I want my first tattoo to be that I forgot that I had to send this stuff, and tomorrow is the deadline. I said that I would send it immediately and finished the conversation. I looked for my internet modem so that I could send the email from my laptop. And then I realized something: MY FLAT WAS COVERED IN SHIT!
Not real shit, obviously. I mean, ew, what do you people think of me? But it was full of plastic bags, empty Coke bottles, papers, clothes, and a whole bunch of other things that I’d rather not mention. You see, I’ve never been a very tidy person. I’m not very disciplined and don’t always put everything where it needs to be. And when I don’t feel so good, it gets worse. It’s as if the clutter in my mind manifests around me. And now then clutter had gotten so bad that I couldn’t find my modem. I searched frantically around my flat, but I couldn’t find it. There was just too much stuff. And then I realized that I was heading for disaster.
I fear that one day they will make a South African version of the TV show Hoarders, because I KNOW that I will be on it. I can just see them dragging me out my flat, kicking and screaming, while dozens of cats come crawling out of the masses of junk, just like Goldie Hawn in Death Becomes Her. And that wouldn’t do. I mean, I’m pretty sure that the people from A.C.E. are already not going to be very happy to know that one of their graduates went on to become a foul mouthed homosexual with piercings that prances around on stage and writes crap in a blog. Seeing me appear on Hoarders might just break them. I realize that one day my mental instability might be the cause of my defeat, but NOT TODAY, SATAN! NOT TODAY!
I grabbed a garbage bag and started stuffing it with junk. I put my clothes away and put all the other stuff away. Eventually I found the modem and sent the email. By the time I was done, I had an entire garbage bag filled with crap. Again, not literal feces. I threw it out and breathed a sigh of relief.
I realized once again that no one can save me except for myself. So, screw you, depression. I escaped the jaws of the underground and saved my cats from suffocating in clutter. I’m a fucking hero, thank you very much.
I have a feeling that A.C.E. is going to be extra proud of me.