for a change, I’ll refrain from hiding all of me from you.
This photo encompasses what is really the highlight of my existence lately. Honestly, my lack of updating as regularly as I had promised myself that I would has nothing to do with me being too busy, and everything to do with me trying to distract myself from the doldrums that have become my own life.
I have, as usual, accomplished nothing. Some of you may have been privy to the potential interview I was hoping to score with a local engineering corporation looking for some kind of office staff in their corporate office. As far as I can tell, this did not pan out. This may be because I am still stuck at my current assignment, which is horrifically boring and involves long hours of UPS processing, alphabetizing, and coaxing 5+ year old stacks of ripped, wrinkled and stapled papers through the feeder of a finicky copier/printer/scanner. They seem to like me, and I guess I am doing a good job, but I have no access to their computer system and thus cannot do any real work, and the place is generally unorganized and inefficient, and I really don’t know why I’m even there. (To check the mail? They don’t need a temp for that.)
Really, I have allowed myself to stagnate. I keep telling myself I will finish all the things hanging over my head, but somehow I never do. In my sadistic quest to perpetuate all the things I hate about myself and constantly complain about, I instead spend all of my free time hiding in my room, reading things other people have written and torturing anyone within reasonable distance with my questionable guitar skills.
I really need to change something. I need to get out of this awful assignment and into a real job with real pay. I need to pay down my loans and get into an apartment of my own again. I was talking to an old friend today about just this: living here, it’s like I have slipped temporarily into somebody else’s ill-fitting skin. I edit myself and censor myself and let my family assume that I’m the good, straight catholic girl looking forward to a real job and a husband and children and suburbia and never experiencing anything. The longer I am here, the more I fear it. I need to get out so that I can do something that I can be proud of. Even if I never rise above working class or finish my degree, I want to experience things that other people only talk about.
Now, with my home life becoming more stressful than ever, it has become clear that I need to change things. I am twenty four years old, and I have accomplished nothing. Soon I will be beyond adventure, old and regretful, wondering why on earth I saw fit to sabotage my own life so thoroughly. But as long as I am here, I am weighted down by unspoken debt, conditions, disappointment, and the inability to honestly represent myself without fearing some kind of catastrophe.