Time
It has, obviously, passed.
Despite all my (private) journal ramblings, I did make it to Seattle, and a hell of a lot faster than I thought I would. I sold my soul to the devil for a few weeks, working for the assfucks at Directv, but I made it there, no sweat.
And I've already moved twice since. Don't get me wrong, life was good there, but life was expensive. We spent one glorious year, walking up hills, smirking at hipsters, sighing over mountain tops. I regret nothing.
Then, alas...wretched student loans. We made the decision to move to Ohio, to be nearer to our families, and live more cheaply. We rented a massive house, got a car, got a kitten. Then it all turned to shit.
The funny thing is, is that isn't my complaint. I'm not writing today because I am heartbroken over Ray. If anything, I am frightened by how little I give a shit about him now. Two years of love, and it only took two weeks to pull myself together. I can be a cold, cold woman. Or maybe it's simply the fact that I am now so acutely aware that he didn't appreciate me, and therefore doesn't deserve my affections.
Now, I am 23. Going on 24, and I'm right where I fucking left off after graduation. Sure, I have a year of grad school under my belt. But I have no job, no solid volunteering experience, no novel. I'm bi-polar with my thoughts and decisions. One day I am a wretched failure because I don't have my Master's, and my first "adult" job. The next, I will smile and congratulate myself for being so young. I can take my damn time. I can smell the roses.
What I can't do is stay here. This little town, where my friends from high school are all getting married and discussing the names of their future children. Even when I was with Ray, that wasn't the place I was at. I never have been. I don't always know what I'll scheme up next, but I always know what it WON'T include. I'm too unsettling to settle. I'm too indecisive to decide who is worthy of spending all their days with me. I haven't been in Michigan for a month, and I have already (seriously) contemplated moving to Shanghai, Berlin, and Chicago. It is not my destiny to stay here, and I know it.
So, what do I do? Oh, right...I get a job. Find a place in Chi town again. Start volunteering. Again. Find another guy to have fun with. Again. I'm in a revolving door, and my shoe laces are caught. And that would all be fine and dandy, if I had something, anything, to take pride in. But I delay and procrastinate. Christ, I haven't written in my journal since before the break up. It's not because I don't want to get used to the idea. I'm just sick of making all of these plans, and not seeing them through.
What do I need to do to make it different, this time around? I want it badly, but clearly not badly enough. Instead I ramble, and complain, and giggle darkly. Plans with no money, words with no story. All of my desires require a different place, a different set of people, and certainly different habits. Ah, the White Stripes cover comes to mind....Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself. The story of my young, wandering life.
Today, I updated all of my resumes. Tomorrow, I will begin hunting for animal and reception and library jobs in Chicago. And maybe in another 23 years, I will finally have that fucking novel finished.
Ah, I dare to dream. Again.
Despite all my (private) journal ramblings, I did make it to Seattle, and a hell of a lot faster than I thought I would. I sold my soul to the devil for a few weeks, working for the assfucks at Directv, but I made it there, no sweat.
And I've already moved twice since. Don't get me wrong, life was good there, but life was expensive. We spent one glorious year, walking up hills, smirking at hipsters, sighing over mountain tops. I regret nothing.
Then, alas...wretched student loans. We made the decision to move to Ohio, to be nearer to our families, and live more cheaply. We rented a massive house, got a car, got a kitten. Then it all turned to shit.
The funny thing is, is that isn't my complaint. I'm not writing today because I am heartbroken over Ray. If anything, I am frightened by how little I give a shit about him now. Two years of love, and it only took two weeks to pull myself together. I can be a cold, cold woman. Or maybe it's simply the fact that I am now so acutely aware that he didn't appreciate me, and therefore doesn't deserve my affections.
Now, I am 23. Going on 24, and I'm right where I fucking left off after graduation. Sure, I have a year of grad school under my belt. But I have no job, no solid volunteering experience, no novel. I'm bi-polar with my thoughts and decisions. One day I am a wretched failure because I don't have my Master's, and my first "adult" job. The next, I will smile and congratulate myself for being so young. I can take my damn time. I can smell the roses.
What I can't do is stay here. This little town, where my friends from high school are all getting married and discussing the names of their future children. Even when I was with Ray, that wasn't the place I was at. I never have been. I don't always know what I'll scheme up next, but I always know what it WON'T include. I'm too unsettling to settle. I'm too indecisive to decide who is worthy of spending all their days with me. I haven't been in Michigan for a month, and I have already (seriously) contemplated moving to Shanghai, Berlin, and Chicago. It is not my destiny to stay here, and I know it.
So, what do I do? Oh, right...I get a job. Find a place in Chi town again. Start volunteering. Again. Find another guy to have fun with. Again. I'm in a revolving door, and my shoe laces are caught. And that would all be fine and dandy, if I had something, anything, to take pride in. But I delay and procrastinate. Christ, I haven't written in my journal since before the break up. It's not because I don't want to get used to the idea. I'm just sick of making all of these plans, and not seeing them through.
What do I need to do to make it different, this time around? I want it badly, but clearly not badly enough. Instead I ramble, and complain, and giggle darkly. Plans with no money, words with no story. All of my desires require a different place, a different set of people, and certainly different habits. Ah, the White Stripes cover comes to mind....Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself. The story of my young, wandering life.
Today, I updated all of my resumes. Tomorrow, I will begin hunting for animal and reception and library jobs in Chicago. And maybe in another 23 years, I will finally have that fucking novel finished.
Ah, I dare to dream. Again.