I Feel Powerful Today: Like If I Wanted to I Could Marry a Man and Not Care What Anyone Thought

I signed on last night to write a post on The Nerd Archives. As stated on my gmail status, I was feeling "unexplainably depressed." I typed in only two sentences:

"I'm feeling so depressed. I think I'm going to take a walk."

But before I pressed the Publish button, I was struck by an intensely profound revelation: instead of signing on to whine to you all about my wimpy girl problems, multiple insecurities, and irrational fear of Elvis impersonators, I decided to first take that walk I was dragging on and on and on about in my un-published post.

The Other Guys is one of my favorites movies ("You thinking what I'm thinking?" "Aim for the bushes.") Will Ferrell is one of my favorite actors. But one of my favorite quotes happens after Terry finishes insulting the coworker who always gets him coffee and the coworker says in a really dejected voice,

"You know, you're right. I think I'm going to go take a walk."

Everyone knows that depressed people like taking walks (in addition to drinking, watching TV, and beating their wives.) What few people know is that it really works. It worked for the coworker in The Other Guys. It worked for Baby-Faced Nelson in O Brother Where Art Thou. It worked for, um, Nelson Mandela in Invictus. I guess that would sort of be a good example. Oh! It worked for Mrs. Salmon in Lovely Bones. Except she didn't really come back, did she?

I deleted the post I was writing, grabbed three jackets, fingerless mittens, and what I thought was supposed to be a sweatsuit but turned out to be thermal underwear, and I left for my walk.

It really is very liberating to go on a walk late in the evening when you're feeling down--especially when you're naked. Very few people are outside, and the few that are outside are usually just gardening or dealing drugs. It's chilly, which refreshes you and makes your mind alert. It's quiet. It's dark. Plus, I kept a plastic baggy of yogurt in my back pocket in case I ever got hungry.

And this morning, I'm feeling loads better. Last night we decorated the tree and watched Saw VI. This morning I made myself French toast and birthday cake. I'm listening to the Spirited Away soundtrack while writing this post. It's raining outside but I'm inside--which is my favorite thing in the world. I have my laptop back, I have Youth Group tonight, I have an exam tomorrow but I'm not worrying about it, and--finally--I have a beautiful naked woman laying in bed beside me and stroking my hair.

I'm feeling powerful. Invincible. Like I could do anything I wanted--even if it meant coming out of the closet or confronting my Social Studies teacher about his drinking problems and how it's hindering my ablity to learn.

If only more people in the world who do terrible things could just take a walk instead. We might not have wars, genocide, or STDs. Children wouldn't bully one another and gangs of homosexual men in prison nicknamed "The Sisters" wouldn't go around raping Tim Robbins and other convicts.

Why do girls/women describe men as "beautiful" sometimes instead of "handsome" or "hot?" They know we don't like it. It makes men sound like horses or Nicole Kidman's new haircut.

Cheers,
That Blond Guy