Theory vs. Practice

Everything is so much better in theory.

In theory, getting a new apartment is a fun adventure wherein I can get a nicer, cheaper place where the garbage disposal actually works and isn't across the street from a crackhouse and a cult that lives in an abandoned church.

In theory, cutting caffeine out of my diet will help me stay healthy and keep my heart from exploding suddenly, probably on the highway causing a multicar pile-up and many people to be late for work.

In theory, shopping for furniture is great because I actually have some money to spend and I can finally stop living like a hobo with a 4 year old futon and the oldest couch in the world, and present a unified front of dignified furniture that matches. I mean, how adult is that?

In theory, the combination of my haircut and exercise program should be getting me into shape - specifically a shape that is much more attractive - as well as relieving my tendency to get winded on mild inclines or carrying my laundry, all while looking fabulous and stylish with flawless hair.

------------------------------

In practice, the world is a cold and angry, and bitter, bitter place.

In practice, the process of finding a new apartment that fits my requirements is like a draconian three act tragic opera, with misuderstandings, murder plots, and appearances by the devil thrown in for good measure. The apartment that you want in Dallas? Is either too expensive, in the wrong location, or unavailable until January. And even if I did find a place, moving out from my apartment will require so much packing and carrying and pulling down curtains and putting things in boxes and moving those boxes and putting back the old curtains that are probably broken by now and....yeah, this apartment thing is like the opposite of a grand adventure. It's a lame non-adventure. Plus, I have to give 2 months notice at the current place, so my time frame on making a final decision just got cut by 3 weeks.

In practice, cutting caffeine out of my diet is akin to going cold turkey off crack cocaine. Skipping that morning cup of coffee is analogous to wielding an ice pick directly into the back of my skull. The 10 o'clock hour consists of nothing but me nodding off in front of my files, you know, where your head sort of falls forward and then you catch yourself with a quick start and some light drooling, all with your eyes practically sticking shut. And life really isn't worth living if you can't have that delicious burning feeling that comes with the first drink of Coke directly out of a cold can right after work. Instead, I come home to freaking Sunny Delight in a plastic cup. Tastes like undeath.

In practice, buying new furniture is just like getting a new apartment, only you will spend far more for three questionable objects that do nothing for you except provide a place to sit, and whatever decision you make, it will haunt you for at minimum the next 5 years of your life. In the past I have spent over 3 consecutive hours rending my hair and internally debating whether or not to get a television while standing in Best Buy. And buying a television should be the easiest decision in my life. Have you read this thing? That's all I ever talk about. Just the idea of committing to a set of furniture fills me with such paralyzing dread that I should probably bring a pillow and blanket to the store, because it will take multiple days of indecision and pondering and weighing the options and color schemes. And by the end I will be bald and in a near catatonic state.

And in practice, my exercise program has done nothing for my endurance and instead squared off all my edges and left me looking like I weigh more than when I started (which could potentially be true, there was that thing with the two pies) and was built out of Legos. I'm very square all of a sudden. And the haircut... well we accept it, because I like it, even if it is so short on the sides that you can see directly into my scalp and/or skull and/or brain, and even if it makes me look like even more of a hipster than ever, and is all weird and spiked out everywhere and looks like I'm trying way too hard. Anything is better than the over-hot longness of before. I will not be a slave to current trends, by God.

....Okay, I will, but not that one, dammit.