Abandoning My (Current) Life Crisis

It is perfect outside today. Not quiiite shorts weather, but another 3 degrees and I’d totally be there. Actually, I take that back. I hate shorts. Do you know any woman above the age of 19 who likes them? Just some food for thought.

I have decided to stop obsessing about my future because it’s, like, sort of ruining the present. For instance, this blog hasn’t been updated in several weeks. It’s not because I haven’t tried. It’s that when I sat down to write, my thought process went something like this:

Jesus, you’re finally writing. Well, it had better be good to make up for all the time you haven’t been writing. Oh, and while we’re at it – weren’t you going to apply for grad school? Don’t you need, uh, a writing sample? Doesn’t it have to be, like, 25 pages? What’ve you got so far? Five? You’re a miserable excuse for a writer, and probably a human being in general. By the way, your first sentence sucks.

And then I’d slam my laptop closed and go and cry and watch Top Chef and eat peanut butter out of the jar.

A couple days ago I woke up and realized that this strategy isn’t producing any masterpieces. In fact, it isn’t producing anything except, well, insomnia, an ulcer, and a nervous tick. So here is the plan as it now stands: Grad school may happen, or it may not. Either way, deadlines are a long ways off, so I’ve got some time. I will write without putting pressure on myself to compose a Pulitzer-worthy memoir every time I sit down at the computer. I will buy one of those awful GRE study books and seriously contemplate taking the test sign up for the damn test. (On the plus side, I hear that GRE scores hardly count for anything in the M.F.A. admissions process, which makes sense. I mean, can you imagine a roomful of skinny emo kids made to sit for hours without coffee and cigarettes? My test score will shine like a light unto the nation next to theirs. Not that it will matter.)

And when I freak out this weekend about how I can’t write anything halfway decent to turn in to my class to be workshopped, I will take a deep breath and meditate on the thought that all is One. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll comfort myself by remembering that what my classmates have written so far is total and utter crap.

But for now, I will revel in my afternoon off by doing laundry, cleaning the bathroom, and cooking dinner for myself and Boyfriend, who, Ladies and Gentlemen, is moving in tonight. Pray for me. Wait, no, scratch that. Pray for him.

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May 23, 2008. Uncategorized. Leave a comment.

High School Reunion

“So I’m nervous,” I say, sliding into the hot tub next to Boyfriend. We are on a ski vacation out West with his family, but we’ve taken the afternoon off due to a bruised shin (mine) and a desire to while away the afternoon drinking and boiling in the Jacuzzi (his and mine).

“Why?”

I hesitate, knowing how silly he’ll find my latest preoccupation, then barrel on in my typical fashion of ignoring good common sense: “About my 5-year high school reunion in May.”

He rolls his eyes. “Why?” he repeats.

I busy myself finding a decent spot to set my vodka tonic, my skin rising in goosebumps as the cold air around me mingles with the hot steam coming off the water. “Because,” I sigh, already regretting my decision to introduce this topic, “I want it to be perfect.”

He looks at me quizzically.

“I mean, I just want everything to be as I remember it. And I want to prove to everyone that I did it, you know? That I made it. Also, I want to look really hot.”

“You are really hot.” Boyfriend takes a sip of his drink and sets it down, shaking his head. “You’re also ridiculous.” I lean over and kiss him on the lips.

“I know,” I say, and I mean it.

May 10, 2008. Uncategorized. Leave a comment.