I’ve been gone for an unacceptable amount of time and for that I am duly ashamed and 300% apologetic. Everyday I’ve been staring at my computer and whispering promises, hoping my baby would wait for me until I came home from war. And by war, I mean getting acclimated to my new job. It’s not comparable to war, but the time-frame it takes me to get used to things is. Despite my absence, my blog has been receiving outrageously fabulous traffic and for that I owe you, because posting regularly, no excuses, is like cardinal rule No. 1 when providing online media content. I suck, and I don’t deserve you.
As for my job, it rocks. I know I did a lot of pissing and moaning about expecting to have regrets but it turns out my unpredictable life knows better what’s good for me than I do. Kudos to my general existence, it knows what’s up.
What I’ve found since denying my dream of living in paradise and working at a place that exists for the sole purpose of making people smile is that I don’t need to live in paradise and work at a place that exists for the sole purpose of making people smile. This is going to sound revolutionary and thus inherently erroneous to the unexpectedly gigantic population of college students desperately vying for a coveted spot in Disney’s Professional Internships and other opportunities–as it would have to me less that half a year ago; I mean, I cried for every NLIC (rejection letter); It wasn’t pretty, Boyfriend even bought me flowers for my first one because I was that desolate–but here I am living the dream and it’s not that dream.
I’m happy. Like, Pharrell Williams happy. I’ve got everything I’ve ever wanted plus things that I didn’t even know I wanted. I’m exactly where I want to be in life. At least, thus far. I mean, I’m not trying to stay the same for the next 50 or 60 years, but things are on track exactly as I’d wish for them to be if a genie popped out of a lamp or…wherever.
With the help of my super wise and omniscient mother (seriously, she could predict your future–not in a psychic way, but in a I’ve-been-around-the-block-and-already-knew-that-person-thirty-years-ago kind of way) I learned the art of setting goals. She’s a big believer in staving off instant gratification in favor of more responsible and sustainable appeasement, and she beat that belief system into me like my life depended on it, probably because it does.
If it weren’t for her, I’d most likely be living under a bridge. Well, not really, but I’d at least smell like it. My point is I’m a real-life functioning adult because of this lady. (I think it’s called good parenting.) It’s not that I’ve achieved everything I’ve ever wanted to in life, not even close. I mean come on, no one’s that unambitious… But I’ve achieved everything I wanted to by this general time of my life, and I’m well positioned to do more.
I’m absolutely content, and I’ve never had this feeling before. College was mediocre, high school was total bollocks, and I thought my life would only be enjoyable if I blew off conventional society and lived like an unrestrained vagabond sans dreadlocks and open-minded taste in recreational drugs (read: doing them at all–they scare the spit out of me). I’m not a very emotionally intelligent person, so I didn’t realize that all I was after was freedom from being under anyone’s thumb, i.e. teachers, psychotic administrators (I’m looking at you, Mr. Fields), demanding part-time bosses, and friends who couldn’t imagine a weekend activity that didn’t involve a keg stand and rolling paper.
I’m a lame-o and it’s awesome. I marathon Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and Star Wars on weekends like Queen of the Fandom and drink bitch beer (read: MGD 64) at the bar if and when I actually put on pants to go. I drag Boyfriend to grocery stores on Friday nights after 9 o’clock and a wild time for me is day drinking while watching low-budge films on Netflix.
I used to feel ashamed of these tendencies because I thought there was something wrong with me. Not no more!
Having freed up some mental space thanks to my stable life, I have new goals. Wanna know what they are? I’m going to tell you anyway.
1. I still live with my parents and my goal is to… keep living with them for as long as I can until they kick me out. My parents are the bomb and their house is beautiful and way more fabulous than any cityscape apartment I can hope to find. I will probably move to the city eventually, but I’m going to wait until I save a ton of money with my rent-free living situation so I can upgrade from post-grad space to mid-level adult space. I’m so spoiled, it’s ridiculous. At least I know it.
2. I’m going organic, holla! I made the official switch this week, which crescendoed just yesterday when I bought my first bulk bin-sold bags of grains, organic GMO-free produce and organic hormone-free fish, amongst other little things. And yeah, that was my Friday night and I was happy as an organic clam.
3. Living an Honest Life. My new unadulterated obsession is Jessica Alba’s book The Honest Life. It’s fabulous. And I swear I get high from reading it (but then again I’m the best bench-marker for what high feels like). My goal is to live as honestly (read: non-toxic) as I can. That means no GMO’s, no parabens, no unapproved chemicals, and no late-night trips to Denny’s. Keep your grind right, keep your mind right, right? Right.
I’m hoping these short-term goals will lead to long-term success, health, and a beautiful life. Maybe one day I’ll get to travel blog and make documentaries. Maybe I’ll get to make a difference in the world. Maybe I’ll take over the world. I have big dreams, and I hope short-term goals will help me achieve them. Thanks mom!
In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy Starbucks (not THAT much has changed) and Alba’s incredible book.