I’m not as bad as I used to be - but that doesn’t really mean much. Measured on a sliding scale against my friends and social acquaintances, I’m just passing with some occasional extra credit (I volunteer! I recycle!) . Measured against the rest of humanity? I’d probably be issued a state-mandated muzzle fitted with an electro-shock collar.

But I’m quirky! In this case “quirky” is a euphemism for borderline personality with a lose grip on anger management, tempered with bouts of mania and a bizarre affinity for self-deprecation and French cheese. Being quirky was fine when I could deftly sublimate this gross character flaw, and use sarcasm and satire to deal with my anger, instead of using anger to deal with my anger.

[redacted sentimental bullshit]

I do this a lot - the reckless episode, the guilt, the reprisal of values and self-worth, the hollow declarations of change, the slacking off with the casual attitude, the reckless episode… Pathological. Up to this point, I’ve been living a farce. Ridiculous. Sham. But I can’t give up hope, we can’t lose hope. So fuck it: I’m going cold turkey for the next 30 days. No booze, no TV, no junk food, no negative thoughts or words (or as few as possible), no being a shit, no being lazy.

According to a friend’s research on the topic, it takes 30 days to form a habit. 30 days to change your life. Plus, imagine what kind of hot little body I’ll be rocking come May 1.