Dispassionate

As you might recall, I charged myself with doing everything passionately for one day – last Friday, February 4. It was very nearly an abject failure.

I had a superfun Thursday night that played a little more like a Saturday, which led to a brand of Friday miserableness best reserved for a Sunday. As a result, I spent the day wickedly, passionately hungover. I really wanted to see the challenge through, so (not trusting my fuzzy head to remember it all) I took some notes to remind me of my attempt.

On my way into work, I managed to pull myself out of my stupor long enough to notice an adorable mop-head of a creature in front of me on the bus. I get a kick out of watching kids who have decent manners and don’t seem to be too douchey. I also spend a fair amount of time watching the ones who look like they’re carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders. There have been a couple that I just wanted to hug and tell, “It’s all really going to be okay. Everything is just the worst right now, but you are going to be awesome and I promise, girls will like you someday.” The kid on Friday didn’t seem too bereft. Plus, I realized that it was totally creepy that I was actually trying to figure out how to observe him passionately without being a pedophile, so I just left that alone.

I had every intention of giving blood on Friday. I actually enjoy giving blood on a normal day. Absent the hangover, I would have been quite excited to try and do it passionately. It probably would have closely resembled how I normally give blood, which is competitively. I have good veins and am an easy stick, which means I take an inordinate amount of satisfaction in breezing through the donation process faster than many of the people in the van with me. It means I win. And have more time to stay and eat snacks. Friday though, I had no business even thinking about donating, but I tried anyway. Praise Jebus my iron was low, so they turned me away. I left, ordered a passionless burrito and slunk back to work.

I spent some time passionately hating a mercifully small part of my job in the afternoon, but that was about it. I didn’t have enough energy to be passionately angry about working until nearly 7:00 on a Friday; it was pretty much just a slow, peeved burn.

The plan for Friday night was to head over to Joe and Tony’s to play with their new toy. I had made the mistake of clueing Joe in to my passion plan earlier in the day, so there was no way he was letting me off the hook. He saw opportunity in my misery and spent the day e-mailing me things like, “What time do you want to come display your passion?”

I dragged my ass over there after work, ate a bunch of candy and realized the first bit of truly passionate success all day. The Kinect. Is. AWESOME. I rafted, rally balled and plugged leaks in a glass cube with so much effing passion. And then we got to the dancing, which was just… gross. I know they only really invited me over so they could make fun of my dancing. I was pretty passionately frustrated by the second dance, they were moderately entertained and I called it a night because it was that or passionately fall asleep on the floor at that point.

I think I might take a do-over on the passion day. For now, I’m happy to have Friday behind me and am going to tackle the rest of the this day with the tempered enthusiasm befitting an average Monday.

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