No, when I say lost I mean I am completely and totally unsure what I'm doing with my life. I mean sure, I'm going to school, I work, I have a social life, but what's the point of it all? Why am I doing it and why does it all feel so unrewarding? The biggest question of all, though, is how do I come back from this? How do I get found again?
Answer: beats me. I don't know and I get the feeling that I'll never know. Some days I'm okay with that and other days it terrifies me so much that I feel like curling into myself and disappearing. On the latter sort of days, I usually end up spending all day staring off into space with a nice, solid glaze over my eyes. The type of look that makes people think, "Is she thinking really hard about something or is she just high?" Hint: sadly it's not the high one.
Fortunately, I have some friends and family who are nice enough to listen to the ramblings of a confused little girl. I get some good advice from them.
"It's alright to just go through the motions sometimes."
"Your job doesn't define you."
"You're 21. You're not going to have it all figured out now and you shouldn't expect to."
"Why are you giving all your power over to someone? You're better than that."
"Don't wear white shorts with red underwear."
I usually feel better after talking to whoever drew the short straw and had to listen my complaints. Sometimes, however, advice comes to me from a somewhat unlikely source: Rex Grayskull, iPod extraordinaire. I knew if I paid $300 for an iPod it would give me life advice. Win.
I was driving into work this morning, still a little upset from my recent vacation to the dark side and trying to remember if I had any gum in my purse (answer: no). Rex was going through his morning shuffle when "I Want To Break Free" by Queen came on. One of the things I've been trying to sort through is my dependency on others. I like my friends and family, but there are times when I think I have to be a (wo)man about things and handle my business without all the fuss. Freddy Mercury seems to have discovered that several years before I was born.
This looks like a dude who knows his shit.
After the song was done, I felt a little better.
I can handle this, I thought. Next up was the song "Piece of My Heart" by Janis Joplin. I've been a casual Janis fan and can't listen to her without the overwhelming urge to get shitfaced, wear flowers and punch someone int he name of women everywhere. Peace and love my ass. But this morning I almost did a fist pump in the air when she screamed/sang (scranged? seamed?) the part that went, "take it!" Fuck. Yes. My heart is indeed a little battered and kind of split and broken in a few places. And the majority of the time it hurts like a mother (not literally. Nobody worry, I'm not going into cardiac arrest, unless by "arrest" you mean "nap time"), but life isn't all puppies and rainbows or rainbows made of puppies. It blows a lot of the time. And cheesy as it is, it's enormously gratifying to get through the hard times and feel like I've one upped life just by manning up and getting through it. In your face, Life. Ball's in your court assface.
Janis and Freddy gave me some good advice this morning. I walked into work feeling better. Today, I will conquer my little corner of the world. Tomorrow I might be back to being mopey and terrified, but today, well today I'm going to win because I have to. Because today there's really no other way to live than by saying, "Fuck it, I'm going for it."
