I’m sick again, internet. I sound like a young Owen Wilson in scuba gear. It’s not cute. Yesterday’s complete lack of effort is probably a testament to how awful I feel, since after 43 blog posts I can crank out 500 words on cat poop and Justin Bieber without breaking a sweat. Yet I made a commitment to writing a blog post everyday, rain or shine or sickness, so here goes nothing.
Let’s talk about panic. Tis the season for taxes, internet, and I was going through stuff yesterday and I was absolutely shocked at how little I made between September and December in 2012. It was honestly pathetic. Granted, since then, I’ve started this blog, gotten promoted, started working more shifts and applied for another job, but I really haven’t changed my living situation dramatically since May 2012. I feel like I’m living in stasis in a weird way, whereas I want to keep pushing forward and moving and progressing. The weird thing is, once you’re out of school, “forward” motion changes from “do the same thing you’re doing till you graduate” to “you could literally do anything, but don’t fuck it up, you ignorant ponce”.
Enter panic mode. I was good at school. Not like, valedictorian of Harvard good, but pretty good. I like learning things. I like studying. I rewrote the introduction of my thesis for fun the other day. FUN.
I am not good at not being in school- or at least, not yet. I’m not a person who does well adjusting to change, especially if I have to change. I will grit my teeth and fight against change just out of principle. Usually the things I decide I don’t want in my life I end up loving. I really disliked yoga for a long time – now I teach it. I hated my alma mater when I first looked at schools – but I loved going there. Brussel sprouts? Now my favorite vegetable.
However, I don’t have anything to fight against now. I feel like I’m facing this void that I have to fill myself. Before I had limited options. I could take Art History at 12:15 on Tuesday or 3pm on Wednesday. Ta-da. Done. Now, it’s just starting to hit me that I could literally get in the car and drive to California and never come back, if I wanted. I could fly to Peru right now. I could take a crappy job at McDonalds or set myself on fire or rob a bank, and there is very little holding me back (save my bank account and my own limited sense of morality).
My cat and I play this game where I let him outside and he immediately wants to come back in.
I kind of feel like that. All my life I thought I was the kind of person who hated schedules. Now I crave structure. When I was in school, I wanted to be on break. Now I hang out in the local library reading about Pablo Neruda just for giggles.
I feel like every time I figure out my current situation, something changes. And I hate it.
I applied to grad school last year for graphic design, and I didn’t get in. This year, I applied to six different places for creative writing, and since the applications went in, I’ve been living in panic that I won’t get in anywhere. I feel like I’m not justified applying three years in a row. Getting denied two years in a row? That’s the world’s way of telling you you’re being a stupid git and to figure out Plan B.
Guess what, internet? I DON’T HAVE A PLAN B. I have nothing, nada, zip. I’ve been trying to figure out Plan B since last year when Grad School Take 1 backfired.
There are several things I do know. I can’t remain in stasis working two part-time jobs forever, no matter how much I love working them, and certainly not if I’m not raking in enough to support myself. I don’t think I could stay in my parent’s house for another year – if the shame wouldn’t kill me, the cat would (he’s plotting something, I swear).
I think I might be having a mid-life crisis. At 23. How sad.
If you have any sincere advice, internet, let me know.