"Have you ever had a day," a tired-looking T asks me after arriving home last night, "when you can't stop thinking of all the stupid things you've ever said and done throughout your whole life?"
"That's every day!!" I look up at him smiling brightly, sarcastically. As a general rule, alcoholics tend to be rather self-obsessed creatures. And so, breaking the cycle of self-centered, circular thinking tends to be an important goal in recovery.
Since getting sober, I feel like I've been on a never-ending quest to Just Get Over Myself Already. Which is why it's so funny, that according to my friend Kirkus below, my book is: "self-absorbed even by the standards of this genre..."
My friends and I got a really big laugh out of this specific turn of phrase. I mean, to be considered self-absorbed even for a memoirist, you just can't get more self-saturated than that.
Of course my book is self-absorbed: it was written by a drunk 25-year-old, who, throughout the majority of the writing process, was still working nights.
I've been 27 for about a month now, and honestly, 27 feels so, so much older than 25. (In a good way of course!) And yet, as my memoir is released to the public, it looks as if my self-absorbed-25-year-old-self will be frozen in time on its pages for, if not eternity, than certainly for a while.