Well here we are, a year out from our first blog.
Last May, I was freshly dumped (it felt just like it sounds) and I was drinking heavily (sounds about right).
While getting dumped sucked a big hairy one at first, doing all that hopeful, powerful women stuff is kind of nice. You know, “HIS loss. I’m better off anyway!! Other fish in the sea!!!”
And I had this magical feeling of freedom. I could stay up until 2 am, eating frozen yogurt standing in my kitchen wearing a Golden Girls t-shirt. I had no obligations to anyone—didn’t have to clean my apartment, didn’t have to stock the fridge with his favorite foods, didn’t have to check my phone…
I don’t know where that Lucky scampered off to.
Sometimes I have to stop myself and wonder what am I doing? I’m certain everyone has those moments, the John Mayer question of “Am I living it right?” or that moment of a quarter-life crisis? I think I’ve had about 7 of those.
Although I bitch about dating more often than anything else, I don’t think that’s what troubles me the most. Pretty sure it’s my job. When I was younger, I had no desire to go to college. My parents didn’t go, and I figured they were doing okay, so what was the point? But as I grew older, I knew I needed college. Once I got there, it was tough at first. I thought I would go into business, or politics, or finance.
Never did I think about being a writer, an editor.
Yet, my path directed me here—and now, all I do is write, sometimes without realizing it. Once I got into writing, I particularly found a love for print journalism. I dreamed of working at a glossy magazine office with other women in pencil skirts. I wanted to stay late and stress over that deadline.
And today, I am the editor of a website that gets more than two million hits a month and I’m in misery.
I have always believed that I am attracted to challenge. Since my job is a breeze, I figure I’m just bored. But when I think of attacking a challenge, like packing my shit and moving to Gizzy’s city, I shrink in fear. I can say, with confidence, that I’m feeling a little lost.
And that’s definitely not where I pictured I would be today, one year out. And of course it isn’t, in general, no one is going to think they’re doing the same old shit, going to the same job, the same happy hour, the same apartment… did I just not work hard enough to get to my dream?
More than some swank office and runway clothes, I cheesily just want to be content in my life. Whether that means scooping frozen custard for soccer moms or alphabetizing books on a shelf, I just don’t want to waste a day doing something I don’t love, being with someone who doesn’t make me happy, or putting up with bullshit.
As small as it may seem, I think this blog is a part of what makes me content. Let’s face it, I get to write whatever the hell I want, you guys actually read it, and then I get to see what you think about it. I haven’t met any of you, but believe me when I say you make this little project fucking awesome.
Well, Lucky has made it quite hard to follow her with her whimsical wise words of a twenty something woman. One year ago I was still in school, living alone, also freshly dumped, lusting after my ex-boyfriend’s friend, and wondering where my life would take me post-school. I often wondered how long I would live at home and early last fall began to mentally prepare for living in my hometown for the rest of my life.
Since then I have dated the ex-boyfriend’s friend, saw the red flags and dumped the ex-boyfriend’s friend, graduated, job hunted, moved back into my parents house, started a job, quit a job, moved to one of the biggest cities in the country, started a career in something I knew nothing about, and left everything I’ve ever known for a fresh start somewhere new.
And surprisingly I’m actually doing OK with it.
The first two weeks after I moved to the big city I cried myself to sleep every night, I missed my family, I missed my bed, I missed the quiet and the peace. I missed my old life. I didn’t know how I would ever make it, I’m not a social person and I have a hard time meeting people, the ultimate question on my mind was, “Would I fail? Would I be a lonely old cat lady?” I still don’t know the answers to those questions, but I can tell you I’m making it. While I don’t live in my dream apartment or work at my dream job, I have started to become passionate about the industry I’m in. Not the research accounting, but more of the research.
I know I’m not qualified to be conducting any kind of life saving research, but my goal for the next year is to volunteer. The thought actually occurred to me when I was walking back to my office from lunch the other day when I walked passed the Children’s Hospital and I thought, “Why am I not in there playing a game with a little kid on my lunch hour to help make their day more fun?” So there you have it, basically my goal is that while I’m still figuring out who I am, I’m going to help someone else.
Is anyone still dry eyed out there?
I know this is not mine and Lucky’s typical demeanor, but it will help us to once a year look back on our lives and reflect on what we’ve done and what we want to do with ourselves. But in the mean time we’ll be on here, cussing like sailors and man hating all the way.