Holy fuck. Sometimes I just get so terribly overwhelmed by life and my future that it's not even a laughing matter. I can't sleep at the moment, even though I should be, considering the fact my immune system took a shit on me earlier in the week and my skin is getting stressed (my skin gets itchy and becomes highly sensitive when I'm stressed out). Many people have asked me recently why I am increasingly thin... I can assure everyone that I am not even trying to lose weight at this point in my life, I think that stress is eating away at whatever fat reserves I had. Why am I stressed? Let us consider the facts of my life:
I am turning 24 in February. Does anyone know how old that is? That's officially an adult. At 22, you're technically still college-aged, only a year older than the tender age of 21. At 23, you could still be college-aged, but 24- that's almost half-way through your twenties, and that's scary. I mean, I think I look better now than I ever did at 18 or 21, and most people think I'm like 19 when they meet me. I wear sunscreen every day and never smoke and I only drink like once a month now, so my skin should be good for a while. But it's that number. It's a big, scary number. The second one that is... the 4. I mean, 1,2,3- they're all little numbers; you pair those numbers with a 2 in the tens' place and they're cute. You put a 4 after the 2 and the number seems, well, not-so-little anymore. Christ, where have the years gone? Time seems to be slowly speeding up, each day getting a little bit faster, every new month leaves me wondering where the month prior to that has disappeared. I blink my eyes and suddenly it's 2012... I was just in 2009. Last night a friend texted me saying they missed the days of Cliff St. I fondly looked back on that year-long period of my life where I was drunk almost nightly, acting wildly, kissing some very unsavory boys, just because I was single and I could. Then I recalled meeting my current boyfriend, the sweet, newness of love and a relationship... I recalled the fondest memories of him meeting me at the top of the Hunt Union stairs to walk me to class on bitterly cold January mornings. I recalled him bringing me chai lattes in the afternoon as I slaved away in the costume shop. I remembered trips to Albany to shop for party supplies with one of my best friends, laughing at a cupcake bus and nearly swerving off the road. I recalled nights of drinking germ-x, nights of writing poems about friends, battles over an inflatable moose head. I remembered smashing wine bottles on trees nearly pissing myself, walking along railroad tracks on a warm, November day; making chicken parmesan for brunch, and listening to Michael Jackson in my friend's white Ford Taurus while the scent of cigarette wafted through the air. I remember it all like it occurred just last week... and it was two, whole years ago. I never knew that I'd look back on those crazy times with such a tender and melancholic heart. I never knew I could long for the past in such a way as I did last night. And now here I am, two years later. Wondering where my life is going still, even though back then, I wondered the same thing, and had assured myself that by the time I was 23, I would know where my life was going, or even better yet, be where I wanted to be.
Twenty-four. There's a song by Pete Doherty, and the lyrics are "If you're still alive, when you're 25, ah should I kill you, like you asked me to? I really don't want to..." It makes me think of the days when I thought that surely there was no life after 21. Once I turned 21, I was certain that no life existed after 22, and so on, and so forth. Coming to grips with the reality of growing older is tough. I mean, we all get older, but that doesn't make it any less frightening. Slowly, I am nearing the age of no return. The age where you realize your days of drinking and abusing your body and living a care-free, "who gives a fuck," bohemian, "I'M STILL YOUNG!" lifestyle are numbered. I have so much to look forward to, and I'm positive the best years are yet to come, but with freedom comes responsibility. Paying back my student loans sucks balls, to put it frankly. I've already put down $600 in loan repayments over the course of two months. I know there are people out there paying way more than me, and I'm lucky my debt is only around $12,000. That's not so terrible in the grand scheme of finances. But I think of other places those $600 could be going.
I'm currently working a job I hate and I'm living at home, which I also hate. I feel like a loser working a retail job, though I shouldn't because it is temporary and only to save money. I don't know why I feel like a loser, I really shouldn't. It's a management position that required a four-year, college degree. It's sometimes stressful, and you know it must be a real job, because it has benefits and all of that other 'adult' type jazz. But I never saw myself working in a store at a mall upon graduation. I am saving money though and by no means have become 'comfortable' in this position (meaning I will be more than happy when I announce I'm putting in my two-weeks notice and peacing out), so I should at least give myself a pat on the back for that. But that also means I need to start searching for a more permanent, more satisfying, preferably higher-income job... also preferably a job in a field that I went to school for (merchandising, theatre, design). That's not easy to do when you work full time and find yourself consumed with errands, cleaning, and other vital things on your two days off a week. Oh, and did I mention that my two days off don't fall on normal weekends? That really sucks. I have slowly been researching theaters and looking at the costs of living in other states. I would like to live in the city, but I definitely would not be opposed to living on the coast in a state like Maine (there are a few reputable theaters in Portland) or Boston.
Upon discovering how monotonous and dreary life after college actually is, I've even considered applying for Masters programs and going back to school. However, I think for now, I will rule that out, as I enjoy making money and not doing homework and practicum work for no pay. I'm not sure how other people do it. It seems like such a vicious cycle at times; you need to move somewhere where jobs are plentiful in order to get a job; but where the jobs are plentiful, the cost of living is generally higher because it's in a more metropolitan area... so you are shelling out more money for an apartment, utilities, public transportation, and general living. How do people save money in today's world? Like, seriously? Unless you were born into money, struck it rich as an entrepreneur, or went to school for medicine or engineering, how do you get a job that allows you to live comfortably and save for the future? Sometimes I wish that I had forced myself to use my brain for things that might not be fun, but things that would definitely be lucrative. I was always a straight A student, in every subject; I was valedictorian of my class... why the fuck didn't I take that full scholarship to Elmira college, and study something like engineering, or pre-med, or law? I suppose it's because times were different in 2006. The economy hadn't crashed, the job market hadn't crashed, and I was young and hopeful. I am still hopeful, and determined that come hell or high-water, I will eventually end up in a job that allows me creative authority, decent hours (by that I mean vacation time and the occasional, two-day weekend), and the chance to inspire others. It just might take me a bit longer to reach this job.
Sometimes I wonder how the people I graduated with are making ends meet. Many of them have children, a lot of them are married or engaged. Most of them are living independently and not with their parents... how do they do it? I know not all of them have college degrees. Did they marry some older dude with an established career? Did they go to school for the 'right' type of career (healthcare)? Are they working jobs they hate too?
I wonder about the lives that people DON'T post on facebook. The lives that aren't so very perfect and great. I can't be the only one who's struggling to establish myself and my career here, while also maintaining a long-distance relationship and friendships. I can't be the only 23 year old living at home to save money after college. I can't be the only one who feels a bit disappointed in their current location, job title, living situation.
When I was 9 years old, I never would have guessed life would have so many choices, so many decisions, so many paths, so many roadblocks, or so many set-backs. I thought you went to school, grew up, and got the job that you 'wanted.' Lol... if only it were that simple. I'd be multi-millionaire designer/painter right now, living the life of my 9 year old dreams. Until I reach that dream, I've set some slightly more reasonable goals. I know it sounds outlandish and probably like a waste of time to some, but I am bound and determined to finish my book and possibly attempt to find a publisher. I'm not sure how one goes about doing any of that, but by God, It will be done. I'm now on page 80, single spaced, with 3 more journals worth to go. Who the fuck wouldn't want to read the shit I've done? I'm such a narcissist it kills me sometimes. ;)
