I'm feeling rather agonised tonight, perhaps because it's after one a.m. and I've barely slept this week. Or perhaps it's because I just finished reading a romance novel, which simultaneously reminds me of all of my failings on the novelist front and all of my failings on the relationship front. Or maybe, just maybe, it's because I don't know what I want with my life, and seem no closer to knowing than when I graduated from college three years ago.
In that time, I have lived in six different apartments, not counting the various places I slept when I was homeless while temping and homeless while waiting to go to Ireland. I've had five different roommates in the States, and another ten or so in foreign countries. I have been to four continents in the past year, and lived in three of them. I got my passport fifteen months ago and only have four blank pages left. I have acquired a shocking amount of stuff and have one of the best-stocked kitchens this side of thirty. I've made friends, lost friends, regained friends, and perhaps grown up just a little bit. I've driven 1800 miles on I-80 twice in three months. I've slept a lot, worked a lot, drank a bit too much (but no more than is usual for my age), listened to a lot of bad music, and seen David Hasselhoff live in concert. I've gotten better about being assertive with customer service representatives, both in person and over the phone. I have an excellent credit score and have begun to think about retirement (although this will not stop me from buying a plasma-screen TV if I succumb to temptation this weekend). I have started taking better care of my skin, although this statement is contradicted by the intense peeling process currently underway on my sunburned shoulder. I dress more professionally at work, provided that I have done laundry in the recent past, and I intend to start blowdrying my hair more often for extra polish. I am poised and confident with managers. My career is moving in the 'right' direction even though I haven't set any real career goals. I enjoy a deep and satisfying relationship with my parents, siblings, and other family members, particularly when I have time to call them. I can organise a dinner party or gathering for any number of people without panicking.
Despite all that, tonight is not a good night. Most days, I'm perfectly content, even happy, sometimes even blissfully happy; but there are nights (it always seems to be nights) when I doubt myself and wonder whether I'm on the right track. Part of the problem is that I can't quantify the track and don't have a map for it, which terrifies the structure-loving parts of my soul. But, the freedom-loving parts of my soul trump the structure, for whatever reason; I can commit to structures of my own design, but not to others' structures, and so I'm rebelling against the traditional life even though the structure that I would create for myself would probably have most of the standard elements--husband, kids, house, cars, lovely kitchen, nice career, vacations to exotic locales, etc., etc. I want my life to be something vibrant, something breathtaking, something that will make other people look at it and be amazed at my creative and daring. I've taken a rather boring job for an admittedly-excellent company and turned it into the most satisfying thing that I could, which seems to be my typical modus operandi--pick something that is a poor fit for me (i.e. the flute, Symbolic Systems, corporate America), and try to turn it into the thing that I should have done in the first place (which explains why I picked up the cymbals as a side-project, turned my major into a weird hybrid revolving around social psychology and history, and wrung a surprising amount of travel out of my relatively-stationary job).
Anyway, I don't regret that my life is so absurd and ridiculous, but as I have probably mentioned before (for those of you who are dedicated readers), there are times when I do wonder if I should be a bit more conventional. For one, I'm really tired of making friends and then saying goodbye to them; I'm missing too many people right now, separated from them by time, distance, misunderstanding, or some combination of the three. And yet, I can't help but get excited about the possibility of leaving again, even though the ink on my one-year lease is barely dry. The topic came up several times in the past week in relation to three different offices, and the first thing I felt was a racing heart, followed by a surge of desire, followed by a blast of cold water as I forcibly reminded myself that I am not moving again and that I want to stay put for awhile. This doesn't bode well for my ability to switch to a conventional life even if I wanted to; I've been back less than two weeks. I really *am* happy to be back, and I really *do* want to stay here, but there's a rebellious part of me that's already fidgeting.
For another, I find myself missing college, and yet it already feels like a dream; it's slipped away to the shadows, and I get brief, intense flashes of memory that only serve to remind me of the past without providing me with a method for reclaiming it. I don't think I really miss college, but I do miss feeling like I didn't have to make any decisions. I'm now at the point where I need to make some decisions, and I don't have the luxury of knowing that I'm committed to schooling for x more years. At least college was safe and highly entertaining, even if it didn't pay very well at the time.
Okay, enough of my ramblings. I'm having trouble articulating my thoughts, and the sunshine will banish them anyway. This is the weekend for cleaning the apartment and moving all of my stuff out of storage; wish me luck!
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