Yeah, it’s overwhelming, but what else can we do? Get jobs in offices and wake up for the morning commute?

First of all, let me say that I am extremely encouraged that although I haven’t been the best at updating, my blog has received hits EVERY SINGLE DAY SO FAR IN DECEMBER! One more to go! Thank you guys for reading. I would resolve, for the new year, to update more but I don’t do resolutions. I change my mind too frequently to vow to do something for an entire year. I sent my roomie a text that said “My resolution for 2011 is to be a man-eating cunt bitch” and he asked me what the difference would be. ZING’D.

I was joking by the way. Maybe.


Cutting to the chase, I actually went into work today, which I appreciated. I’m desperately broke and could use the cash, especially since I drained my bank account for Christmas. That does mean I spent nearly every last dollar I had…haha. Worth it though. 🙂

Essentially, all I do for work is pack letters–“literature kits” as they call them. Letter. Price sheet. CD. Magazine. Seal. Postmark. Repeat. Needless to say, it’s not much of a mentally taxing job, but it gets pretty dry after a while. I like working for short periods of time, though, because they let me listen to my iPod while I stuff the envelopes. So, I do some mindless work and listen to my iPod while meditating on life. And yes, I actually meditate on life while I listen to my music. Songs bring up questions and ideas about different facets of life. For example, I’m listening to “The Only Exception” by Paramore, which came on shuffle when I was working. Don’t judge me. I appreciate the cynicism towards love in the song, so I ended up thinking about my own cynical standpoint on the l-word. I keyed in on the lines, “Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul that love never lasts/And we’ve got to find other ways to make it alone or keep a straight face/And I’ve always lived like this, keeping a comfortable distance/And up until now I had sworn to myself that I’m content with loneliness because none of it was ever worth the risk” and nodded my head along. I was all, “Yeah, Hayley Williams. Yeah. I understand that. Love never lasts. Yeah. No falling in that shit.” But, of course, she talks about the exception to that and I get all grumpy.

JESUS I am bad with digressing.

SO. I was plodding along to pick up a box of envelopes/magazines/something from…some random box-filled room that has a specific name which, when spoken to me, is met with a blank “wat” stare…and “Time to Pretend” by MGMT came on. One of the lines is the subject of my entry–the whole “oh nooo sell out get office jobs” yadda yadda. I felt like a SHAM. I waited in line for hooouurrrsss, possibly six, to see this band live (and I was front and center a-thank-you-very-much) who is all about THE DISESTABLISHMENT or freedom or some other hippie shit and then WHAM my secret office job life.

Then I proceeded to meditate on life once again. I thought to myself, well, I’m just doing this because I need the money. Who the hell actually aspires to have an office job? Then I realized that almost everyone I worked with was doing this as a career and not out of the need for sporadic opportunities to hopefully make 50 bucks. I can’t imagine sitting in a cubicle, 9-5, plunking away at a keyboard. How is that gratifying? I imagine getting a hefty check might make it worth it to some people, but I could never stay in a job like that. My current job isn’t torture, since I get the opportunity to just have “me” time which is pretty nice, honestly, but these other people are doing legitimate tasks. I just don’t see the joy in that.

I thought, what if growing up means giving up a part of yourself? Do I have to sacrifice my carefree, wild spirit (lol why did I type that? Cliche.) to fit into a place where I actually can be an asset to a company or a society? I want to be a psychologist, so I have to work under something, but in an ideal world it wouldn’t feel much like a job to me…more like practicing something I love. The people I work under better not tether me much, though, our they will be subjected to bellows of, “I’M A FREE BITCH, BABY.” Seems to be a theme with my entries.

But just because I want to be a psychologist doesn’t mean I necessarily will be one. I have this constant fear that I’m going to fail at everything in life, ever. I’m afraid I’ll end up in a dead-end job I hate just to support a decent lifestyle for decades. I just fear leading a miserable life where I don’t smile or laugh. I fear all of the payments real adults have to pay. I don’t know what half of the words mean in the commercials for financing and things. When numbers appear, my brain goes to mush.

I’m a creature of pure feeling. I don’t know how this is going to translate into being an adult, but I hope I don’t have to give up being a dreamer. I feel like adults don’t dream anymore, but resign into a life of routine. There’s nothing I can do, though. The future is coming like a freight train and I’m gonna get hit eventually. Hopefully it will be painless.



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