Untitleable

Sooooooooo (drum roll please) I got a job! Actually, I got two jobs! Recession my ass, it just takes a little effort people! And I'm obviously kidding, I don't want angry, unemployed psychos coming after me for mocking their troubles: I'm sure you're doing all you can. Carry on, soldier. In the midst of all my rejoicing at having a ligitimate reason to get up in the morning (besides the strawberry pancakes that my mom has been making, pancakes with a deliciously permeating aroma that comes wafting into my nostrils at the crack of noon and lures me, bleary-eyed and starving, to the kitchen to partake in their fluffy, buttery, syrup-covered ecstasy), I realized that all my employment goodness starts on the fourth of July, a holiday I was looking forward to spending in Tallahassee with my fabulous collection of friends. Now, as the princess cries into her money and wipes her ass with flakes of gold, I realize that I have nothing to complain about: I have an income and in times like these I should be licking my employers shoes clean at the end of the day, not whining that I don't get to go get drunk with my bffs. And in a strangely mixed up Body Snatchers sort of way, I'm glad that I'm not going up to school again to have a reunion with all these incredible people that I spent a few of the most unbelievable years of my short life with. It's too soon. Now, ye of whom I speak, do not distress. My motivation for these thoughts are not as simple or rude as they sound. College was a surreal, almost dream-like experience that can never be replicated or duplicated, nor should it. In its moment it was nearly perfect, everything happened as it should have and in most cases things happened in a manner that no one in even their most vividly altered state of mind could have imagined. It's tragic to say, but I think I've moved on. Not saying that if I was still in school I wouldn't bump this responsibility notion to the curb, ditch work which would ultimately end in my termination (been there, done that) and drive my happy butt up to my beautiful apartment and relish in the debauchery until my toenails fell off (done that too). But I've started something new, something that I want to do, something that's going to give me a new sense of satisfaction, at least for the next few months. My state of mind has changed. I did the partying, staying up past sunrise, living my life from Thursday to Sunday lifestyle and I had a blast. But even Kegger Barbie needs to grow up and get her M.D. one day. I like the direction my new, slightly less crazy and slightly more responsible self is going (please note the usage of the word "slightly" and appreciate its connotations). Now that I'm not strapped down with classes I feel less need to rebel so avidly and frequently. I'm finally calling the shots in my life and deciding what the next adventure is going to be. It's strange and terrifying as all get out but it's the most exciting thing I've ever attempted. And what made me get here is all the years I spent in school yearning for my freedom. And the people that accompanied me along the way, those who allowed me to sit, stand, or fall down next to them while they tripped along their own path, are frozen in my mind in a cryogenic state of utterly blemish-free perfection. When I left high school for college I was a complete wreck: I cried for days and feared that I would never find anything or anyone as fantastic as what I had had for those four years. My first semester at school was a catastrophe because I was so stuck in another place to which nothing could compare and I never gave anything a chance to compare, at least not at first. I couldn't adjust to what was happening and resented my situation for being so beyond my control. From that situation came a few incredible friendships that have lasted to this day, and as time passed things only became more amazing and my circle of friends grew and grew until it became a family. Finally, my fear of change and my anxiety because of it decreased and I found myself again, only better and much more able to adjust than my angsty teenage predecessor. Because of the people I met and the situations I found myself in (and a few times, found my way out of) I figured out life from a different perspective and started to be enchanted by change and the idea of new prospects. Life went from being stomach churning (not butterflies, think food poisoning) to remarkably electrifying. Now, as I'm setting out on this exhilarating new adventure, I have those people and those memories to remind me that even though things may suck at first and look bleek and foreboding, there's that stupid silver lining that will eventually give way to the sun, and happiness will not be permanently evasive. Going back would be incredible, but if I'm unable to feel that feeling one more time, I have all these new ones to remind me of what I had and to encourage me along my way. Now, as Dorothy skips down her yellow brick road into the sunset and the theater lights ignite the tear-stained but utterly inspired audience faces, I must comment: if I could find a way out of all this working bullshit I'd rapidly invent an instantaneous transporting device and zap myself into my old backyard quicker than I could blink, nothing could break my stride, nothing could hold me down, oh no. It's just that knowing I can't is heartbreaking. But, finally, instead of yearning to be where I can't be I'm just elated that I can say that's where I once was.