Beast à la mode
When I say I got that dog in me, no I don't.
History will be remembered through modes and eras wrapped around goings-ons. I have been in many modes in the past year alone: book mode, soup mode, treat mode, blob mode… that’s about it, really. Most of them are relatively idle. My mode meter rarely goes into the red. (Slut eras are a lifestyle).
Lately, for me beast mode involves greasily devouring a store-bought rotisserie chicken over the kitchen sink, tearing one drumstick straight from the bachelor’s handbag with my bare hands.
Some may confuse this for “goblin mode” but that would suggest a dedication to something deeper, something generally denoted by fervent tinkering, ring-chasing, or some such hand-rubbing schemes. Goblins have more commitment than me. I am tired in a way that could out-nap Rumplestilkstin. In a way that suggests something perhaps medically profound. (I took an online neurodivergence quiz that suggested I seek assessment for my “mildly autistic tendencies.”) I just finished my… fourth (fifth?) course of antibiotics this year and it’s a full K.O. No Katy Perry anthem can make up for the constant grind of industrialized living or populate my currently barren microbiome.
Yet, to live I must submit to meritocracy’s wage-seeking ways. And so, I must summon whatever beastly spirit will best inspire me to find myself in my bag once more. Because lemme tell you, being out of my bag? It’s cold, it’s lonely, there’s no guac out here. I’m sick of it.
But! I am thwarted by a fatigue determined to keep me out of the bag, like a club bouncer with a personal grudge. It is a beast of its own making. Many beasts, in fact. These beasts:
Little miss getting those steps (snacks) in
Every day I must go on a jaunty little stroll through the neighb for an errand, and usually, I end up at a snack. I never know what the treat will be and sometimes there is no errand but I just need to be witnessed, to get those steps in, to have another coffee and another treat just to feel something.
When I say I got that dog in me, this is it:
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Spring is a social time of year when people are at least 15% more likely to follow through on plans than the previous season. It is the only time I remember what FOMO is and end up in places I have no business being simply because isn’t that what people do? Meanwhile, I’m on 23% battery and my once charitable thoughts start negotiating Instagram therapy speak like I don’t owe anyone anything, as I start plotting my way home from the function, trying to appear at least somewhat present in the group dynamic.
That little critter that always distracts me from what I came in here for
This happens a lot more than I care to admit, let alone experience. There are only five rooms in my apartment according to Streeteasy’s listing (which includes the bathroom, kitchen, and living room, even when some of those spaces are combined). I stand there, turning my head this way and that, as if my eyes will scan the area and suddenly tell my brain “It’s that! That’s what you came in here for!” Instead, it requires at least one or two more exits and enters for me to remember what it is I came in here for.
The elusive one: When I actually wake up on the right side of the bed (which is often because that is the side of the bed I sleep on) (but you know what I mean)
Sometimes after an uninterrupted 8 hours of sleep, when I do wake up with the energy of an iPhone battery at baseline 80% health, I think brightly of all the things I want to do with my life and what a lovely day it is and what am I supposed to be doing again? Do I really have to do that today or can I put it off? Hmm but maybe if I just got it out of the way. I want to go outside but if I go outside I’ll lose my inside momentum, wait what was that sound…
See also: snake in a can.
When you ask if I want anything from the snack place and I say nothing and you bring me nothing
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I will have what you’re having.
When I’m not done yet
I decide when we’re done.
And so on, and so forth.
Anyway. I have made… something resembling a point. Before you beast mode, perhaps it’s wise to take inventory of your creatures. There is no single beast to mode. Not in this day and age of biohacking and I liked it so I got it in every color. However, this internal zoo within me is forming a cabal intent upon thwarting our collective ambitions in favor of all the things each little beasty demands at any given moment. To indulge any one beast’s mode is to lose the forest in the trees (sumn like that). And to try and appease everyone is an exercise in futility. The best I can hope for is an internal system of governance wherein each little guy gets their fair share in due time. I may not wish something so lofty as to tame these beasts, but I can hopefully one day get each of them to respond by name.
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