Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Quarter Life Whatever

I've heard a lot about the famed "quarter life crisis" but never thought it would hit me right in the fucking face. I swear, I've been totally cool about where I am in life for the last however many years of my adult life. But then all of a sudden MOTHERFUCKING BOOM. You ready to start feeling shitty about your life? I left an anxiety attack on your front porch, you're welcome!

Feeling this way blows so hard. I feel like I'll be paying for the mistakes I made when I was between 18 and 22 for the rest of my life. Credit card debt, not finishing college, choosing the wrong jobs, ignoring adult things. At the time, I still felt like a kid, so I just did whatever the hell I wanted. Putting fun trips / clothes / Mcdonalds on my credit cards. Failing classes, ignoring credit callers, HAVIN' FUN Y'ALL. Dumb.

When I was a kid, I was always told that I could be whatever I wanted to be. That I could choose my Dream Job and be happy every day of my life. And I believed that shit. But there's a lot more to it than just, "What's your passion? What do you like to do? Then do that!" Because I'm pretty sure watching crappy television shows isn't a job option for me.

What if my Dream Job is only an option in New York City or Boston or Chicago? I'm all the way down here in Louisiana, and I don't know if I could leave my family and Andy's family behind for a chance of a shot at a job. Not to mention, Andy has a job here that pays our bills.

Being in this place super sucks because no one can say anything to make it better. No one can fix it, no one can correct the mistakes I made, no one can tell me what I'm supposed to do. But that's all I want. I just want someone who can tell me the right choices. I want someone who can predict the future for me or tell me what I'm good at, because right now, I'm feeling like I'm good at absolutely nothing.

I NEED AN ADULT TO MAKE THESE HARD DECISIONS FOR ME. Where can I find an adult? Because I know damn well it's not me.

It's especially hard on Andy, because I know he would do anything to make it better, but there's nothing he can do. I'm sure it's difficult for him to get that my anxiety and general lowness about life has nothing to do with our relationship.T hat's the one solid thing I have right now. I may be confused and scared and unsure about everything else, but Andy is the one thing I have that is concrete for me.

Which makes this anxiety even worse, because I want to be better for me AND for him. I don't want him to have to worry and stress with me, because he's like most men and just wants to solve, solve, solve. And unfortunately, there isn't a solution that someone else can choose for me. There's just me. And if things go wrong, if I've made the wrong choice - I only have myself to blame.

I have all of these questions: What do I want to do with my life? Have I affected anyone in a positive way? Am I good person? Why does it feel like everyone else has their shit together, while I'm floating off in space, doing nothing?

I see passion all around me. Passion for art or music or religion or science. And I feel like I have none of that. How do you find your passion? How do you know what you love? What if you try everything, and you realize that you have no passion?

The burden of this crisis lies 100% with me. I cannot blame anyone else for the path I've taken. I cannot change what I've done in the past. I can only look forward and trust myself. But the problem is, I don't trust myself at all.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Mardi Gras Is Never a Good Idea.

I'm pretty sure that I've forgotten how to write a blog post in the year and three months that I haven't written anything. Here goes nothing...

I've attempted Mardi Gras once before as an adult, and it didn't go well. I mean, it didn't go badly, it just didn't go at all on account of how we were like, "Fuck this cold; let's day drink at home." So now when people say, "Are you going to Mardi Gras this year?!", I say, "If by Mardi Gras, you mean staying home and getting shitfaced and showing my boobs for no reason because there aren't beads involved, then YES. Yes I am."

This year, however, a friend of mine rented a lot for the parade. And also their very own portapotty. But the most important thing included was THE FREE MOTHERFUCKING KEG, AMIRITE? So I said okay, sure, what's the worst that could happen?

-_-

It was still a few hours before the parade was going to reach us, and we had been throwing that keg beer back. See, the problem with drinking out of a keg is that you have no fucking clue how much you've been drinking. And so you drink more. And some more. And then you're like dancing to Ke$ha when you know you shouldn't be, because all of those moves look way better in the car.

I had to use the portapotty because of all the free! keg! beer!, so I headed on in. It was already dark at that point, so inside the portapotty was complete and total darkness. I was pretty drunk, so I did that whole wobble-wobble-balance routine you have to do when you're drunk and trying to go to the bathroom. Also, it was a portapotty so I was hovering and drunk and let me tell you, my thighs are not used to the kind of strength required for squatting over a toilet to avoid the germy germs.

I finished up and went to throw the toilet paper away, when I realized the worst. thing. ever.

THE ONE MOTHER. FUCKING. TIME A MAN PUTS THE TOILET SEAT DOWN. THE ONE TIME. ARE YOU KIDDING ME.

The guy who went in before me put the lid of the porta potty down. So yeah. I peed all over the lid of the toilet. And yeah. It kind of got on my jeans without me realizing because I was so busy squatting and being drunk and trying to hurry. And I'm not talking a little splish splash, y'all. I'm talking NOTICEABLE PEE. ON MY JEANS. AT MARDI GRAS.

The only damage control I could manage was to walk out and be all, "HEY I THINK SOMEONE PEED ALL OVER THE FLOOR IN THERE BECAUSE OF HOW IT WAS ALREADY THERE WHEN I WALKED IN BECAUSE IT DEFINITELY WASN'T ME SO SOMEONE SHOULD PROBABLY CHECK THAT OUT BECAUSE IT'S GROSS UM LOL?"

Then I proceeded to lean up against a truck for the rest of the night. I looked like one of those kids at the school dance, standing on the nerd wall. People were all, "Hey! Come look at these awesome floats!" and I'm like, "Oh, they look just beautiful from back here. I think I actually prefer the view from leaning against this truck, rather than the view that would require me to show you my PEE PANTS BECAUSE OMG THAT'S WHAT I WAS WEARING.

So. Gross.