Let me start out by offering my sincerest apologies. The three-plus-month hiatus I have taken from whining and complaining is unforgivable, but I hope you all have used this time as a positive reprieve in which the sky seemed bluer and double rainbows followed you around like a welcome shadow. But now I'm back, and oh boy am I ready to blow the lid off your bird-chirping-zip-a-dee-doo-da-day-whistling routine. These past three months have been a cluster-you-know-what and I think it's high time I shared some of these frustrations before exploding becomes the only viable option.
The reason for my button-lipped approach can be attributed to a lesson I learned some time between mastering the art of coloring in the lines and realizing that boys were going to ruin my life (when your first crush happens in preschool, you have a world of hurt ahead). The lesson, of course, being: If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. And, while most of the time I ignore this nagging repeated memory, this time I decided to give it a chance, for some of the thoughts I might have expressed would have landed me in an against-my-will stay at Bellevue Mental Hospital. The scariest part being that the colorful characters housed there would have looked at me like I was crazy. Like I said, it's a been a dousey.
Rewind three months and you will find a hopeful gal in her mid-twenties just on the horizon of some pretty significant life changes. New job, new apartment, new youthful spring in her step and daily affirmations that were going to get her to where she wanted to go! This girl was me, and those affirmations quickly turned into the familiar damnation of the morons around me. I thought being proactive and changing my life would thus change my attitude, but the way in which it backfired was pretty dang epic.
While most, myself included, assumed the new job would alter my bleak New York City outlook and really get my foot in the door in the secret-societyesque industry of entertainment television, it turned out that the reason I was hired was because coffee and other assorted fizzy beverages would not make it to the eighth floor of 30 Rockefeller Plaza by themselves. I guess the constant hydration and caffeine consumption shouldn't only be looked at as a job for a peon, but as a thankless hustle that when repeated day in and day out will cause some serious ego-bruising and self-pity. But, hey at least we all know I'm a freakin star when it comes to liquid handouts. I guess it's common in your twenties to question your current career situation, however I never dreamed that four years post earned degree I would still be looking at the totem pole and just wishing for a spot on it.
With the job a mentally declared failure, I turned my efforts toward my shiny new apartment... all 300 square feet of it. I reveled in the fact that, for the first time ever, I would be living alone. The decisions were all mine. The art on the wall belonged there because I had chosen to purchase it and hang it. My television was always squawking the episodes I wanted to mindlessly watch, and no one was going to accidentally change the channel. All of the visitors came to see me, and if I wanted dinner to consist of a pop-tart and 2 liters of diet soda then by god that was what I would consume for no one was around to judge. But, then it happened, the silence settled into apartment 1C right along with my hand-picked decor and brand new bed sheets, followed by the realization that night after night I would be welcomed home by the smiling face of no one. This is not to say that living solo doesn't come with its perks. As I type this, four rebellious drinking cups and one naughty silver spoon sit in my sink, unwashed, and have so for two nights. It's my 300 square feet and I'll do what I want. But, when all is said and done and I lock myself in for another night alone under the smog of the city I think to myself, wow, how I miss splitting the electric bill on the 15th of every month. I guess it should come as no surprise that friends do not want to spend ample amounts of time in a space that houses both a couch and bed only inches apart from each other; hell I can barely stave off the claustrophobia and it's my couch and my bed. I'll chalk it up to just another third-decade growing pain, and this time in a very cramped space.
My third, and final finger-pointing rant of the day belongs to the ever-infuriating backdrop to which I have chosen to set my life. The City of New York is a crazy place, and I believe that while I once found the craziness exciting and invigorating my patience for the city that rarely even naps is wearing thin. After four years of immersing myself in the bustling metropolis of hipster indifference, I can finally declare that I am very much over it. Round peg into a square hole kind of over it, and just like a true first-love the allure that the greatest city in the world has over me will always linger, but I believe it will be best for the sake of my sanity if I cut ties with my highly sought after zip code and begin a new adventure. Where, I am not yet sure, stay tuned for I'm sure it's going to be a roller coaster of written emotion.
Please don't hate me, I an fully aware that these are problems most individuals would be lucky to experience. Advancing one's career and having a place to call my own are not exactly terrible issues that need solving, I am not blind to this fact. There are real people, in my very own life, that are facing truly grim situations with a confidence and bravery I did not know existed in the human form. I only hope to entertain you with my "misery," that, for the most part, is just all part of the learning experience I am lucky to be going through.
That being said, recently, happiness has been a fickle creature in my life. Moving forward, I hope to be able to capture and house this fleeting, yet fantastic emotion for longer periods of time than my most recent efforts have availed. And, while I thought I was making moves toward inner peace and satisfaction, I'm now beginning to think that the changes I introduce into my life need to be grander and the chances taken riskier.
The greater the risk, the greater the reward, right? So, while I'm not much of a risk-taker, I am, in fact, quite fond of rewards...
