Tag: Adult

September 17, 2018

I’m trying really hard to like my new job. I like the people I work with. I like the parking situation. They have free coffee.

I know everyone expects me to like it. I know everyone thinks I should. I know I’ve complained about my job(s) in the past. (I complain a lot…it’s what I do. It neither makes me charming nor cute, but it’s true.) I know people who love me want me to be happy. And by happy, I mean employed. And by employed, I mean making money and having some purpose every day. And by purpose, I mean something other than writing, because I’ve gathered that no one sees that as having purpose until you’re JK Rowling, and then money talks. Right now, money isn’t talking to me. Right now, it’s a silent reminder that I have to do what everyone eventually has to do as an adult. Get a job. Make money. Get insurance on things like cars and rental apartments and my life. Dream about what kind of fence I’ll put around my yard (white picket, I’m told). Plan for retirement, when I don’t have to work this job anymore. Pick out some sort of school area I want to be in if I have kids. I’m supposed to have kids apparently. Meal prep so I can do the smart thing and save my money because eating out is a waste. Invest it so I can give it to the kids I’m supposed to have. Use the job money to buy gas for my car so I can drive to work to make more money to buy more gas. Go to bed early so I can be well rested for the job I sit at to make money so no one has to worry about me any more or wonder why I’m so useless and pathetic when they all thought I’d be somebody. Ignore all feelings of wanting to write or run away because that’s not practical. Not nearly as practical as sitting at my desk day after day and making money so I can come home too tired to remember that writing is the only thing that makes me happy. Forget about happiness so I can work because adults are supposed to have jobs they don’t like. Who am I to think I get to pursue my dream? Who do I think I am? Unless I become EL James somehow and write the masterpiece* Fifty Shades of Grey and then it’s okay that I wanted to be a writer. Then, despite the content and the quality, then it’s okay because I have the money to show for it. But until then… I should stop trying to write and be lucky I got a job.

Day 99 – Mo’ money…

*sarcasm

July 10, 2018

Dropped my friend off tonight at his house, and as we were having a lovely conversation (bitching about life), my car started going crazy: honking by itself, spewing out some sort of liquid, and then shutting off. It did distract us long enough that we checked it out, but we both decided it couldn’t be that big of a deal, so I drove home. I can’t be bothered.

These are the types of decisions I make when left to my own devices. Who said I could handle things??? THIS IS WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE WHEN I HANDLE THINGS. I watched TV all day, sent two emails vaguely referencing work things, ate dinner with friends, bitched about life, and then when my car decided to do the Electric Slide, I assumed it was fine and just drove on home like AN IDIOT. It didn’t end well (obviously).

At what point does this get easier or make any more sense? A friend of a friend had a rough night and we discussed how anxiety can be debilitating and she was like, “Oh, I don’t have it like you have it. That sounds terrible.” And then I had to think… Should the person I’m trying to comfort actually be comforting me? Do I have any idea what I’m talking about? Any idea what I’m doing? No. No I do not.

Should I take a nap to help me deal with all of this? Yes, yes I should. But first, let me go on Facebook to distract myself, then on Instagram to wonder why I lost 400 followers in a week (and subsequently feel bad about myself… even though my Instagram is MY DOG’S ACCOUNT), and then realize that maybe therapy could save me but more likely they’d be like “You’re too much, please leave, we can’t help you,” followed with lots of food I shouldn’t be eating and a phone call from my Mother reminding me why she hates me to round out the evening. Ahhh what a lovely, relaxing day, said NO ADULT EVER.

Do they make life jackets for actual life, or just for the water?

Day 30 – Adulting within 30 minutes of eating.