I like making lists.

I think my life started getting better at the exact moment that I started making lists.  I find that sometimes by just sticking my index finger into the back of my consciousness’s throat, and vomiting up all the things that are currently irking me, it all seems a lot more manageable when it’s on a piece of paper in the form of a list.  And on those days where tangible accomplishments are few and far between, a simple To Do list will sometimes be the thing to break me out of my funk.

But this isn’t going to be a To Do list.  This is going to be a meditation or something.

I’ve been noticing lately that in those brief moments of quiet reflection, where I don’t have the stimulation of an iPhone, book, or laptop, that my general state of being is one of discontent, angst and regret.  When I sit on the toilet, I frequently find myself mouthing the words to conversations that either have never happened or will never happen.  I’ll replay scenarios from the past, and I’ll essentially play them out in a “YEAH!  That’s what I should’ve said!” sort of way in my brain.  Some of these scenes happened years ago, some of  these scenes happened earlier that day.  Admittedly, most of them are stupid.  But there’s a lot of them, and they make the inside of my head a cacophonous, unpleasant and difficult place in which to get things done.

I was thinking about starting to meditate, but I don’t think I’d ever stop judging myself if I were to type into the Google search bar “How do you meditate?”.  What my limited amount of understanding on the subject has led me to believe, though, is that meditation is essentially the act of turning down the volume on your consciousness.  Where you identify all the ‘songs’ that are simultaneously playing, and then hit the “Stop” button one at a time, until you reach inner peace -and quiet.

So, at this point in time, I would like to share with you the songs that are currently playing in my head.

• The other night, I was talking to a girl outside a comedy show.  There was a lull in conversation, so I asked, “So, what do you do?”  She shot me a glare, and snorted, “Really?!”  I can’t figure out why she said that.
• Across the back of my shoulder-blades, I have a patchy agglomeration of long, thick, rogue black hairs.  I don’t think girls like it.
• I live with a cat named Zac Efron who is completely indifferent to me.  I wish he loved me.
• When I walk past the elementary school near my house and see kids playing soccer at recess, I am overcome by such an intense feeling of nostalgia and sadness that I will literally have tears run down my face.
• I go to the gym just about every day because it helps me to better manage my anxiety.  But as I obtain a more conventionally desirable physique, I am concerned that people will respond to my onstage work differently.  They might not laugh at my jokes, or empathize with my onstage stories because I’m looking more like a douche-bag with each passing day.
• I was at a small DJ’d event recently, and the DJ asked me if there were any songs I wanted to hear.  I said, “Yes.  Absolutely.  Please play Land of 1000 Dances by Wilson Pickett, for it is my favourite song to dance to”.  He said “Okay.”  He did not play it, and I fear it’s because he thinks that Wilson Pickett and I – are lame.
• I don’t know what I’m supposed to wear.  I probably look stupid right now.
• I hate how much of a cliche I am at 26.  Persuing a career in a field that is flooded with entitled, lost 26 year olds such as myself.  I just wish I knew how to build a deck.
• I always forget my reusable bag when I go to the grocery store, and I think that global warming is my fault.
• I don’t have any money.
• I got on a bus a couple days ago, and I needed a transfer, so I grabbed a transfer.  But apparently you aren’t supposed to grab your own transfer.  You’re supposed to ask for one.  So the driver yelled at me infront of the 10pm “going clubbing” crowd.  I felt shame.
• I wish I was a better actor at theatre school.  Things would’ve gone much more smoothly.
• I wish I didn’t go to theatre school.
• I wish I didn’t wish I didn’t go to theatre school.
• Why don’t I want to cook, ever?  I should start buying fresh ingredients, bringing them home, and cooking them.  And people would be more impressed with me when I put my groceries on the checkout conveyor belt.  They’d be like, “Oh, wow.  He’s making something with bok choy.”
• I wish my urine wasn’t so dark in colour when I wake up in the morning.
• I can’t tell if I’m balding, or if it’s just my maternal hairline.
• The Israel-Gaza conflict is going to have a swifter, more level-headed conclusion than the NHL-NHLPA’s current skirmish.
• When I was 11, I tried doing stand up comedy infront of 200 people at a friend of a friend’s Aunt’s 40th birthday.  It was not my place.   And most of my jokes were plagiarized from the movie “Blank Cheque”.  True story.
• What does it say about me that I can’t stop rewatching the movie 500 Days of Summer?
• I wish when people asked me ‘what I do for a living’ that I didn’t want to jump off a bridge and fall through an oil tanker, killing me instantly, causing an oil spill, and devastating an entire region and ecosystem.
• I wish I was funnier on Twitter.
• Why won’t the CBC just hand me a career?  I don’t want to go to broadcasting school.
• I wish I was better at writing, performing, singing, dancing, acting, thinking, eating, sexing, motorcycling and being good looking.  Life would be so much easier.
• I hate this blog post.

Okay.  This might seem like it’s just derailed into me complaining, but this list is honestly an accurate representation of the songs bouncing around in my head.

If you want, I’ll burn you a CD.

Actually, know what?  You should make me one too, and then we can trade up.

It might make us feel better.