One Step Forward, Two Steps Back
I feel as though my life is moving backwards. Doing the opposite of what it should be at this point. Here I am, college over, skills duly acquired, and now I should be facing a new huge world, being thrust into it, being overwhelmed by the enormity of the new challenges ahead.
Instead, my world is shrinking. My college friends have all fallen by the wayside. I know they exist. I'm vaguely aware of where they are. But with perhaps one exception, none of them have ever gone out of their way to contact me. None of them thought to take a spare moment and just say hi. If there's been contact, it's been me reaching out to them. Instant messaging. Commenting on galleries or journals. Phone calls. It's clearly one of those "out of sight, out of mind" things. They don't see me = I'm forgotten. Or else I'm not worth a five-minute long-distance howdy. Not sure which I'd prefer. Whereas my few friends from high school have now become closer and more precious to me.
And meanwhile, I never got thrust into that big scary world. I didn't choose a career path that moved quickly or had even a decent success rate. I have no funds with which to move away, and so I live at home again, without even school to continue my socializion. My drive and my inspiration are slowed to a crawl. I mentally review all the personal projects I'd love to work on, and then I think, "What's the point? I should be doing my commissions instead. They make me money. I should be making money." And every week at least there is more talk of all the ways I could improve my money-making business, none of which includes anything I really enjoy. And with no enjoyment comes listlessness. Sleeping too much. Hiding in my comfortable room. And the days go by. Days and weeks and months, and here I'm about to turn 23, and what the fuck have I done with my life? Where exactly am I going with all this monotonous crap, playing wife to my mom while dodging her mood swings, painting copies of photos of dogs and motorcycles and people and buildings, not doing anything and not wanting to...
Fuck it. Don't bother listening to me. I whine yet do nothing, and I could have it so much worse. I'm not starving. I'm not on medication for anything. I don't have family members dying around me. I don't have to work all day at crappy low-paying, soul-sucking jobs. I have some friends. I've got all the comforts of home. Just...
Nevermind. Forget it.
I'll post later with happier holiday well-wishes, kay? Maybe remind you why you ever liked me in the first place?
Instead, my world is shrinking. My college friends have all fallen by the wayside. I know they exist. I'm vaguely aware of where they are. But with perhaps one exception, none of them have ever gone out of their way to contact me. None of them thought to take a spare moment and just say hi. If there's been contact, it's been me reaching out to them. Instant messaging. Commenting on galleries or journals. Phone calls. It's clearly one of those "out of sight, out of mind" things. They don't see me = I'm forgotten. Or else I'm not worth a five-minute long-distance howdy. Not sure which I'd prefer. Whereas my few friends from high school have now become closer and more precious to me.
And meanwhile, I never got thrust into that big scary world. I didn't choose a career path that moved quickly or had even a decent success rate. I have no funds with which to move away, and so I live at home again, without even school to continue my socializion. My drive and my inspiration are slowed to a crawl. I mentally review all the personal projects I'd love to work on, and then I think, "What's the point? I should be doing my commissions instead. They make me money. I should be making money." And every week at least there is more talk of all the ways I could improve my money-making business, none of which includes anything I really enjoy. And with no enjoyment comes listlessness. Sleeping too much. Hiding in my comfortable room. And the days go by. Days and weeks and months, and here I'm about to turn 23, and what the fuck have I done with my life? Where exactly am I going with all this monotonous crap, playing wife to my mom while dodging her mood swings, painting copies of photos of dogs and motorcycles and people and buildings, not doing anything and not wanting to...
Fuck it. Don't bother listening to me. I whine yet do nothing, and I could have it so much worse. I'm not starving. I'm not on medication for anything. I don't have family members dying around me. I don't have to work all day at crappy low-paying, soul-sucking jobs. I have some friends. I've got all the comforts of home. Just...
Nevermind. Forget it.
I'll post later with happier holiday well-wishes, kay? Maybe remind you why you ever liked me in the first place?