Okay, so I think I've got a one year plan of sorts.
THE 2009 MAGIC MISSILES PLAN (IE IT CAN'T MISS, AT LEAST IN V3.0):
I'm going to pay off my credit card (I kind of lived off of it in college when I was only making $200 every two weeks). That'll take a couple of months and then it's on. I'm looking to get promoted at my job. I'm going to save up money until next year and A) Reapply to Pacific University's grad program B) Move to Portland, OR, C) Get an apartment, and possibly D) Get a new car.
I wanna get this SG thing rollin' asap. Funny how guys are fine with SG until it's THEIR girlfriend. Straight up bullshit. I wanna travel and write (in that vein, Greece for a week sounds delightfully refreshing). I've been looking at cities, throwing darts at the map in my mind and pinpointing cities/states I could possibly be wanting to move to Maine seems beautiful as most of the New England states do, but somehow I keep coming back to Portland. So, we'll see.
The perspective break up talk my bf and I had the other night led to him telling me I should move and start over, and get out of this incestuous small town circuit. Go back to school and meet new people. I think it would actually be really good for me, if I wasn't so terrified by it. Hard ass bitch by day, sobbing mess by night.
But what kind of event sparked this you ask? ---A ton of irrational fears.
I'm feeling all kinds of weight from every direction of my life.
BOYS: Never seem to live up to the faith you put into them. The ones you put the most faith in, pilfer and destroy it little by little by being complete douchebag pirates.
(See the contradiction there? douchebag=unfavorable; pirate=lovably mischievous. It's the I hate him/love him complex) And then once you're out of those relationships, which were with the people that you've believed in the most, but treated you the worst, you've got no tolerance for anyone else's bullshit--which feels like it should be a personal win, but just ends up with the one you're with thinking you're a harsh bitch. Indifference kills. I'm a murderer I guess. I just wish I had the same fresh perspective that I did in high school. What happened to chatting for hours upon hours about anything and everything into the wee hours of the morning, not realizing so much time had passed? Now all guys seem to want to do is fuck. No one ever wants that deep conversation to lead to the sexin', they just want that epic win of the night, that phone number, that drunken opportunity that arises when she needs you to drive her home.
RELATIONSHIPS=EPIC FAIL.
FAMILY: just don't help. They don't understand the things I like, and when I try to explain it (like why I get tattoos) I get the ever-disheartening scoff. My grandparents wanted to get me a gov't job out of college when I was doing my job search. I'd get to sit on my ass and enter data for $10 an hour. Ready for sarcasm....3...2...1...Fucking Whoopie!! I'm a government glorified receptionist! My life would be so fucking meaningful! Then when I found a job on my own in retail at $12/hr what did I get? Nothing. No kudos on my ambition and doing what makes me happy. All I ever get is "I don't know why you work that job" when I just want to vent for a second about an asshole customer. My bud is slowly blossoming on the money tree and I'm becoming more and more independent, which chagrins them a little, I think. They like to make me dependent on them, but they can't let me be myself. My grandfather even picked out my first car for me, and I felt bad because it's not at all the car I wanted, but I didn't speak up because he wanted this white stratus for me. I wanted the exact opposite at least in color, but I just didn't have the heart to say "It's not what I want" even though I paid for it myself.
I: am not using my English degree and writing skills as I should. I didn't find a relevant job. I don't want to teach unless it's creative writing at the college level. I say that because it seems that whenever I say I have an English degree people say "What do you want to do, teach?" like it's the only option. I have been thinking a lot more about starting another screenplay and I'm hoping that the longer I put it off because I'm tired from work or whathaveyou, the more I'll want to just sit down and do it. (That seems like a bad plan, though) I need to find those short screenplay contests again and send out my 25 minute one. With my days off being mine again (because I'm thinking that probably in a few last visits I'll stop driving an hour and a half to two hours to Perkiomenville.) I should have a good amount of time to give myself for my own ventures.
Strangely, at 23, I'm also starting to feel old. I realize that when I go to visit my favorite Main Street, that I'm older than most of the college kids lugging their bookbags from class to class across the campus. I don't want to be older than 30 when I have my first kid, but I'm realizing that I'm going to hit 30 like the surprise of mashed potatoes in the face during an unexpected food fight. I feel rushed and yet I can't imagine myself marrying or having kids with anyone right now because no one is meeting my expectations.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I just lived with my dog forever. I know, no possibility of the marriage or kids thing, but hey, the unconditional love is enough.
XO-A
THE 2009 MAGIC MISSILES PLAN (IE IT CAN'T MISS, AT LEAST IN V3.0):
I'm going to pay off my credit card (I kind of lived off of it in college when I was only making $200 every two weeks). That'll take a couple of months and then it's on. I'm looking to get promoted at my job. I'm going to save up money until next year and A) Reapply to Pacific University's grad program B) Move to Portland, OR, C) Get an apartment, and possibly D) Get a new car.
I wanna get this SG thing rollin' asap. Funny how guys are fine with SG until it's THEIR girlfriend. Straight up bullshit. I wanna travel and write (in that vein, Greece for a week sounds delightfully refreshing). I've been looking at cities, throwing darts at the map in my mind and pinpointing cities/states I could possibly be wanting to move to Maine seems beautiful as most of the New England states do, but somehow I keep coming back to Portland. So, we'll see.
The perspective break up talk my bf and I had the other night led to him telling me I should move and start over, and get out of this incestuous small town circuit. Go back to school and meet new people. I think it would actually be really good for me, if I wasn't so terrified by it. Hard ass bitch by day, sobbing mess by night.
But what kind of event sparked this you ask? ---A ton of irrational fears.
I'm feeling all kinds of weight from every direction of my life.
BOYS: Never seem to live up to the faith you put into them. The ones you put the most faith in, pilfer and destroy it little by little by being complete douchebag pirates.
(See the contradiction there? douchebag=unfavorable; pirate=lovably mischievous. It's the I hate him/love him complex) And then once you're out of those relationships, which were with the people that you've believed in the most, but treated you the worst, you've got no tolerance for anyone else's bullshit--which feels like it should be a personal win, but just ends up with the one you're with thinking you're a harsh bitch. Indifference kills. I'm a murderer I guess. I just wish I had the same fresh perspective that I did in high school. What happened to chatting for hours upon hours about anything and everything into the wee hours of the morning, not realizing so much time had passed? Now all guys seem to want to do is fuck. No one ever wants that deep conversation to lead to the sexin', they just want that epic win of the night, that phone number, that drunken opportunity that arises when she needs you to drive her home.
RELATIONSHIPS=EPIC FAIL.
FAMILY: just don't help. They don't understand the things I like, and when I try to explain it (like why I get tattoos) I get the ever-disheartening scoff. My grandparents wanted to get me a gov't job out of college when I was doing my job search. I'd get to sit on my ass and enter data for $10 an hour. Ready for sarcasm....3...2...1...Fucking Whoopie!! I'm a government glorified receptionist! My life would be so fucking meaningful! Then when I found a job on my own in retail at $12/hr what did I get? Nothing. No kudos on my ambition and doing what makes me happy. All I ever get is "I don't know why you work that job" when I just want to vent for a second about an asshole customer. My bud is slowly blossoming on the money tree and I'm becoming more and more independent, which chagrins them a little, I think. They like to make me dependent on them, but they can't let me be myself. My grandfather even picked out my first car for me, and I felt bad because it's not at all the car I wanted, but I didn't speak up because he wanted this white stratus for me. I wanted the exact opposite at least in color, but I just didn't have the heart to say "It's not what I want" even though I paid for it myself.
I: am not using my English degree and writing skills as I should. I didn't find a relevant job. I don't want to teach unless it's creative writing at the college level. I say that because it seems that whenever I say I have an English degree people say "What do you want to do, teach?" like it's the only option. I have been thinking a lot more about starting another screenplay and I'm hoping that the longer I put it off because I'm tired from work or whathaveyou, the more I'll want to just sit down and do it. (That seems like a bad plan, though) I need to find those short screenplay contests again and send out my 25 minute one. With my days off being mine again (because I'm thinking that probably in a few last visits I'll stop driving an hour and a half to two hours to Perkiomenville.) I should have a good amount of time to give myself for my own ventures.
Strangely, at 23, I'm also starting to feel old. I realize that when I go to visit my favorite Main Street, that I'm older than most of the college kids lugging their bookbags from class to class across the campus. I don't want to be older than 30 when I have my first kid, but I'm realizing that I'm going to hit 30 like the surprise of mashed potatoes in the face during an unexpected food fight. I feel rushed and yet I can't imagine myself marrying or having kids with anyone right now because no one is meeting my expectations.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I just lived with my dog forever. I know, no possibility of the marriage or kids thing, but hey, the unconditional love is enough.
XO-A
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