FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

could I please stop overanalyzing my LIFE right now?!

Things I Worry About On A Daily Basis And To No End, Vol. 4

LIST EDITION! BECAUSE I HAVE LOTS OF WORRIES THESE DAYS!

• That I might fail my Anthropology class. Even though, multiple times, I’ve messed with the numbers and it’s highly unlikely.
• That someone will say something to someone that will somehow and screw up some really big things for me since I opened my big mouth. It was a catch-22, really. And celebration was in order, so I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. (I mean, you can’t rescind a JOB OFFER can you?!)
• That my house will go un-subleased, and that my dad will pay for an empty room. Like I’m not already sucking enough money out of him.
• That my little brother will estrange himself from my family. That little punk is always getting in trouble, and while its unlikely that he would estrange himself, I have to worry about him. Right?
• Oh hell, we might as well throw money in there, too.
• and finally, I’m worrying ABOUT worrying. I’m telling you, people, this is a vicious* cycle

* I had to Google** “vicious.”

**Speaking of Google, I finally got my WAVE invite.  Am I done worrying? Almost. SIKE.)

It started with the rain this morning.

Actually I woke up and the ground was almost dry, but it did start with the rain.

So I woke up late after pressing snooze for oh, forty minutes, hopped in the shower, and threw on some clothes.  And that, most specifically, is where it started. I put my rain boots on and folded my jeans, but got uncomfortable and tucked them in, but got uncomfortable, and… oh hell. Then I had to do my hair. Put it up, took it down, did it half-way, took it down, screamed some choice words, looked at the clock and ran out the door (but I was on time for class).

Made it through my first class and work, then opted to drag myself through the rain to my second class instead of high-tailing it home to my bed. And was in the middle of Psychology of Aging that I shed tears number 1, 2, and 3. My professor showed a documentary on Alzheimer’s and for some reason it was upsetting, and I don’t want to see anyone I love going through that, and the moral of the story is I never want to get mother-fcking old.

On to Anthropology (my final elective… EVER). Where I get a text. From the girl that I used to work with that was supposed to go with me to our boss’s wedding? Yeah, she wasn’t going to make it. And the other coworker that was to be my saving grace? Yeah he wasn’t going either.

Fast forward to my freaking out because what the hell am I supposed to do about that? when I arrive at the tailor to pick up my dress for said wedding.

Which is not wearable.

Because the zipper that was hidden that needed fixing?

Was now HUGELY VISIBLE and FIXED and LOOK, I DID WHAT YOU ASKED!

No, kind sir, you mother-fcking DIDN’T and now I CAN’T WEAR THIS!

So then fell tears 4-3o,875,430.  Yep, starting right there in the tailor’s and ending somewhere over an hour later in my bed on the phone with my parents. Both of them. On speakerphone. Telling me that it would be FINE for a 22-year-old girl to go to a wedding BY HERSELF! FINE I tell you, and you never know but you might meet someone there, and they might hit on you! OK ENOUGH ALREADY.

…

So here I am, a few hours later with a massive headache, no dress, and a mani/pedi that my parents (ok, my mother) insisted I get to cheer myself up.

And I guess I feel better, but I shed tears 3o,875,431 and 3o,875,432 just thinking about this stupid debacle.

Maybe it doesn’t seem like a big deal.

Maybe it isn’t a big deal.

But Internet. Go to a wedding BY MYSELF?!

I think I’m going to the humane society to pick out some cats first, because it seems like I’m destined to become a cat lady any day now.

[BY MYSELF?!]

rains when you’re here and it rains when you’re gone

I have a dilemma. The short version is this: do I take the unpaid position that is more likely to turn into a job post graduation, or do I take the paid position that isn’t near what I plan to do in the future, but will give me the means to afford to do whatever I want (just about) for my last semester of school?

I’m guessing this is a good problem to have, a decision that will benefit me either way, and I’ve already decided that there is no wrong answer.

Seriously, I’m in the middle of a freak session where NOTHING is wrong but everything feels that way.

All I want to do right now is cry and complain about it.

I need a life.

on Every Other front

Or just the one permanently raging inside my head.

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Here’s what I’ve been living the past few weeks

I went to visit my two BFFs on their 22nd birthday with a few other friends, in town for less than 24 hours, and both of them stayed with their (shitty) boyfriends. Neither could BARE to stand ONE mother-f.ing NIGHT apart, and honestly, it was just wearing me out.

Funny thing is, the only thing I’m concerned about is the fact that I can’t feel concerned.  I can’t care about it, nor do I really want to.

+

Remember That Boy That I Just Couldn’t Shake? I only have a few sentiments for that situation: I’m not stupid– I see right through ALL of your bullshit and covers (and I like to make you squirm about it, too). And I am no competition for who I’m up against (boys are just gross–I’ll leave it at that).

+

Went to my second wedding of the summer, loads more fun than the first, and the afterparty with my three favorite girls was to. die. for. Ended up flirting like MAD (ahem) (quite the first and not my style in the least) with a boy from highschool only to find out that we both woke up on separate bathroom floors (low point) AND he’s dating someone (at least he isn’t married, as SBR found hysterical the next morning). Woke up with my girlies and laughed for about three hours straight, found a guitar pic in my cleavage on the way to brunch (tmi?), couldn’t make eye contact with said HS boy at brunch, and wouldn’t. change. a thing. about that weekend.

+

While this is a professional front, I was still fairly worried that the new intern that started today? That she might swoop in and be Little Miss Advertising and send me straight to the backburner? Yeah, she’s not that bad. We’re doing dinner soon.

+

Aside from a minor (collapse of a parking deck) incident with my car, which turned out fine, a broken computer that is finally fixed, living in between three houses, a lot of anxiety over which I have little control, and a freaking awesome family and group of friends that I live for,  lately I’ve been doing just fine

Y’all. Drunk post of the century right here. I’ve already made three corrections in the first sentance, but damn it to hell if this post isn’t the most gramatically correct one I’ve completed in a while.

Anyways.

Tonight I went out with a few neighbors, friends, and The Boy. And Internet, The Boy is just NOT turning out how I want him too.

For starters, my sweet little SBR and my closest neighbor A both think The Boy is Gay. Not such an easy one to swallow. But tonight, when he started “flirting” with someone else (a girl who is in love with another neighbor, so it doesn’t really matter but it kind of does and it still makes me jealous/sad/mad/WHATEVER), I just lost it. As in, quit talking to him, quit looking at him, whatevs. So when The Boy’s new girl starts flirting back with her neighbor boy (can you even follow me here?), and The Boy starts chatting with me, and I’m all “oh E, let’s CHAT, you are so COOL, FML I HATE THE BOY ACROSS FROM ME,” well y’all. That’s all I got. E went to his house, The Boy went off with my boy neighbor, SBR never came out, A (who thinks The Boy is gay to begin with) came home sad that HIS boy didn’t come home with him, and here the fuck am I, trying, hoping, praying, wishing, and so-help-me-Lord-typing-gramatically-correct-in-my-drunken-stupor ALONE.

FUCK. MY. LIFE.

Honestly.

I’m trying to keep the faith. I’m trying so hard. And I won’t give up, not now, not ever, and not because I know I shouldn’ t.

But sometimes life, LOVE, is hard.

OH and FML x2 when my phone vibrates at 2:32 in the morning, and my stupid self, eager to see who it might be, finds a txt from BANK of AMERICA, telling me my daily balance.

REALLY?!

I think I’m going to be sick

SBR and I were riding home from dinner tonight (Moes– if you sign up online, you get a free meal for your birthday holla!) when it hit me.

This time next year I have no idea where I will be. Ideally, NYC, although I’ll take Atlanta or Chicago or any large city setting.

I won’t be in college.

I don’t know how I’ll make any money.

I won’t live in my comfy condo.

I probably won’t have TBR down the hall like I’ve had for… holy shiz, four years now.

I probably won’t have SBR down stairs, laying in her bed for me to jump in so we can Facebook stalk people from home and look at all the cute and sometimes not-so-cute babies our peers seem to be popping out daily.

Everything I know now, everything comfortable, everything familiar, very likely will change.

People do this all the time. It’s the natural progression of things.

I can do this.

I know I can do this.

But I really, really don’t want to.

Sometimes I forget that I’m not that 16-year-old girl, driving too fast in the champagne-colored Camry blaring Missy Elliot’s “Gossip Y’all.” Every time I hear that song it reminds me of it. Looking back, 16 seems so simple. Half a decade later I’ve realized it can’t be that different from the present, barring a few changes. A professor threw reality smack in my face when she asked the class what exactly we thought would happen when we graduated. “Did you think life would be easier?” she asked, “because it won’t be.”

It was a statement not made in malice, but just like that I realized that this world is spinning out of control, leaving me in a stand-still as I try and grasp for why I’m in it. What could be more difficult than right here and now, not knowing where I’ll be living or where I’ll be working at this exact time next year? Than knowing absolutely nothing of what is to come, nothing certain or concrete after college. That (shudder) maybe my dreams of love and success aren’t MY dreams and that maybe they won’t come true when and how I want them to. But how is that going to be easy? and how could it possibly be harder?

And through it all, as bleak and depressing as it all sounds, I guess I can find some comfort in believing that no, it may not all go as planned, but me? Somehow I always seem to figure it out. Somehow I know that it will turn out right… whatever that may be.