God. Oh God. Why did I do it? What was I thinking? What the hell was in that rum and diet coke.
I deleted my Facebook page. Ok, I didn't delete it. I deactivated it. Typed in the little reason why box "I need a break. It's not you it's me." And now, when I wake up in the morning and my fingers itch to type my username and password, the two series of numbers and letters I can type faster than any other in the world, I type in the website of my hometown newspaper instead and read about the crazed church goers scheme to vote out a hated politician, or read about the sports teams current loss over another school.
Ugh. I want to look at his profile. I won't. I can't. Ugh.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Thursday, December 11, 2008
The Countdown
There was once a time in my life where graduating college seemed like a far off goal, a castle somewhere in the distance where other graduates and I would meet to get on our white horse diplomas and travel into the real world of the Kingdom. A rich and magical place, the Kingdom offered the comforts of salaries, dental plans, and the mythical 401(k). The Kingdom was there for our taking, waiting for our arrival into its open arms so the other citizens could congratulate our accomplishments, read our resumes, and understand the fine print.
I graduated in June and I have done nothing.
Well, nothing isn't exactly true. I finished out my season at a popular Shakespeare festival as a House Manager, catering to the needs of thousands who found a great excitement in my job that I was beginning to detest. When I became unemployed, I went to San Francisco where I became single. From there I visited my sister in San Diego, applied for and didn't get an entry level job I thought I was qualified for and then I moved home. Yes home as in parents. Home as in check in times and promises that one beer equals no driving. Home has its perks, as we all know and love, but it is a Catch-22 of sufferance and benefit.
I read a lot. Mostly fantasy books where quests of grandeur replace the GRE and meeting an attractive vampire substitutes for stuffy job interviews.
I have hit a wall but, in true English major with and emphasis in Creative Writing, not just any wall; my wall is imbedded with The Countdown. The Countdown finds its way into my every day actions: showers, filling up the gas tank, watching movies. The Countdown never leaves. It is the moments when you check your bank account and realize nothing in means the ability to take less out. It is the calendar that suddenly reads a New Year and the mental tallying of how many times you can say "I'm in between things" and still have it mean something.
The Countdown is the feeling of self-loathing that grows and grows when student is no longer you answer and you don't know what to do next.
For me, The Countdown is now.
I graduated in June and I have done nothing.
Well, nothing isn't exactly true. I finished out my season at a popular Shakespeare festival as a House Manager, catering to the needs of thousands who found a great excitement in my job that I was beginning to detest. When I became unemployed, I went to San Francisco where I became single. From there I visited my sister in San Diego, applied for and didn't get an entry level job I thought I was qualified for and then I moved home. Yes home as in parents. Home as in check in times and promises that one beer equals no driving. Home has its perks, as we all know and love, but it is a Catch-22 of sufferance and benefit.
I read a lot. Mostly fantasy books where quests of grandeur replace the GRE and meeting an attractive vampire substitutes for stuffy job interviews.
I have hit a wall but, in true English major with and emphasis in Creative Writing, not just any wall; my wall is imbedded with The Countdown. The Countdown finds its way into my every day actions: showers, filling up the gas tank, watching movies. The Countdown never leaves. It is the moments when you check your bank account and realize nothing in means the ability to take less out. It is the calendar that suddenly reads a New Year and the mental tallying of how many times you can say "I'm in between things" and still have it mean something.
The Countdown is the feeling of self-loathing that grows and grows when student is no longer you answer and you don't know what to do next.
For me, The Countdown is now.
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