What do I do now?

So, my life has come to a grinding halt while I learn the lessons of survival, taking care of myself, acceptance, willingness, honesty, service, the boy scout code and other pertinent lessons relating to the absolute crushing of any ego residue. All of my super stratified ego dreams have come crashing onto the rocks below while I get "right sized". My life is about "suiting up and showing up". That is a rather horrifying image. I have a picture of Albert Brooks in "Modern Romance" putting on a shit brown running suit and headband as he tries to work out to impress his ex-girlfriend Mary. That's the image I have of myself, although more portly. I love that word "Portly" (Remember Zachary All? "Portly, long extra long, extra portly, portly long, portly portly"). I guess it refers to the excessive consumption of port, a rather hearty drink which causes girthening around the apple midsection.
But seriously folks, I am very relieved to have the life I have today. I mean as these things go. But it's not particularly sexy (NOT PARTICULARLY SEXY? THAT'S THE UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE CENTURY! GOTTA HAVE SEX TO BE SEXY!) It's a wholesome kind of "kind of" life. That's a reference to my old roomate Dave Sherman. He was a reserved emotional stuntoid who always prefaced his conversations with the term "kind of", in a Hal the computer kind of way. His face tuning a ruby blush as he said it. Then there's good ol' Robert Pack, from Royal High school in Simi Valley, class of 1977 ( I was class of 78) who, when asked about the state of the universe, would lift his hand up, turn it upside down and waggle his hand towards the ground while saying "oh......meeeediocre". I mean, maybe I'm not seeing all the explosive excitement that my current life has in it. Maybe driving to work everyday and then to the dentist IS excitement and I'm just not able to comprehend what real adrenalin is. But more than likely it is probably exactly as I feel and experience it: a medium, luke warm, slightly cooling cup of instant coffee. I'm not used to carving apple core women and crocheting in my mind. I still crave the salacious, crazy, warped and wrecked, sick and suicidal, five thousand horsepower fear fueled life I used to have. God no! But maybe just a little sex please.