Oh, the joys of being employed. I was at work for what, eleven hours today? And eleven hours yesterday? However, I had rib-eye steak and gnocchi carbonara for lunch, and I had enchiladas for dinner, so it's not like I'm truly suffering. However, work is a) cramping my style (even if it does enable me to pursue a type of style in my leisure hours that does not involve living in a box and squeegeeing windshields under the bridge) and more importantly b) keeping me from finishing the move into my new apartment. It was all I could do to actually do laundry last night; and since I moved all my hangers already, all the clean clothes are sitting in one basket on my living room floor and another basket in the passenger seat of my car. Sadness. Tonight, I got home a little after eight, was going to move things, but instead did a little bit more work, watched TV with Terry (oh 'Scrubs', how I love you, and to think that I missed out on you when everyone used to watch you in the Loro lounge!), then decided it was time for bed.
I really need to decide what the next step is--not that I'm considering leaving work anytime soon (for my coworkers who read this), but I also don't intend to stay forever, and some overarching life goals would be good right about now. For instance, I was watching 'Sex and the City' tonight (another good show I never used to watch), and Carrie needed to buy her apartment, and realized that she had no money or assets. Now, at 23, I'm not worried about buying a house--but someday I would like one, and unless my dream of writing romance novels and getting rich quick comes true, I should be thinking more about the future. However, the future is so far away...and the beautiful kitchen gadgets at Crate and Barrel are achingly close.
To top it off, my oldest niece turned 13 today! That also seems impossible...I was ten when she was born, and now suddenly I'm thinking about assets and mortgages and financial goals and moving and jobs and career plans and life plans and all the things that being a grown-up is supposed to entail, and yet when she was born I was thinking more about Nancy Drew and the stars (i.e. hot gaseous masses, not the hot people I now watch on VH1) and why all the kids at school hated me and how absolutely adorable my niece was. I don't want to be ten again, which is good since you can never go back, but when I was ten I never expected that my life would be where it is now. When I was ten, I hoped I'd be an astronaut or something...but I secretly really just wanted to be a mom, and I expected it to start around the age that I am now. Now, I definitely don't want kids at this age, especially since I'm so far from knowing what I want...but we never know what we want, and I've spent so much time doubting myself and wondering about potential paths, never wanting to commit to any one thing, always 'committing' to the wrong thing/person because at the end of the day I knew it would never work and so I wouldn't really have to commit to it after all.
I've said this all before, reached the same conclusions before, and so I doubt that this will really help. But every once in awhile, I have to remind myself of it so that someday, I'll catch myself in the right moment when I'm actually willing to make the change. Until then, I am trying to maintain my childlike wonder for all things, and I hope that you will too. Despite my rather cynical, sarcastic side, there's a lot to enjoy about life. Actually, Terry said that when she saw me Thursday night (the night of the drunken post, see below), it was really strange because I was so happy and there was absolutely no cynicism, sarcasm, or biting wit at all. Not that that's the real me either--but it's interesting that when my inhibitions go, they take the sarcasm with them.
Okay, enough introspections, it's time for bed!
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