Tuesday, October 14, 2008

There have been some pretty spectacular conceits in the medical dramas I’ve seen, and in one Grey’s Anatomy episode–a series I stopped consuming long ago because I don’t own the skirt necessary to watch it–a subway pole was extracted from two skewered passengers who couldn’t shut up. Another episode featured a woman who was chronically stuck at a 270° angle, but by then I had done a 180° myself and vetoed the programming.

Even resurrection was possible, with main characters handily saved from clinical death. Whether it’s possible to resurrect a social life, however, is a spectacle I’ve yet to witness. We’re not talking about television anymore, obviously, but reality. My reality. Now, I know alcohol would be the equivalent of pushing an epi or jamming a shot of adrenaline straight into the proverbial heart, just as I know my perennial dislike of the stuff persists to this day. Sure, mojitos are tolerable. So what, though? Is a one-drink repertoire appreciably different than not drinking at all? Perhaps I should try emphasizing different syllables while ordering my one drink, maybe go with a hard “J” and ask for a “mojeeto,” in hopes of discovering a delicious new variant.

Until then, the list of social outlets is truncated, populated with things like church, the alumni association, volunteering, or some kind of club. Were I more optimistic, I’d dig into every such opportunity with gusto, my mind primed for new experiences and associations. Of course, if I ever got to such a point I’d probably possess light telekinetic skills as well, along with minor feats of alchemy and the ability to fly for short distances.

But in my current state, nothing really seems appetizing on that short list of venues, you know? I think “church + social,” and I instantly picture congregating in some stranger’s living room for awkward Bible study. “Alumni association + social” brings to mind a football game or two and that same living room, albeit with reminiscing instead of prayer. “Volunteering + social”? A brief flash illuminates a worn kitchen and a musty community center. “Club” evokes an image of hiking, which I need to promptly banish. And the more I think about these things, the urge to power nap simply overtakes.