quarter-life crisis

To steal a phrase from John Mayer.

Today at work, I spent the afternoon looking at pictures of people’s tattoos online. I have a really cool one on my right foot — Psalm 46:10 in my grandmother’s handwriting — but I’ve been itching to get another one. As I saw some really beautiful tattoos, and some really terrible ones too of course (why would you tattoo your own name on yourself!?), I couldn’t help but want something totally badass. It was that moment that I felt like I’d settled into some kind of cookie cutter. I don’t really think that, but at that moment…I wasn’t sure.

Maybe I would be destined for mini-vans and always wearing shoes so the other moms at play-group wouldn’t see my tattoo. Deep inside, I know that’s not me at all. I am not destined for any kind of boring normality. But I can’t help but wonder what I’d look like at 40 covered (at least a little bit) in tattoos. Would I be excluded from any jobs I might want to pursue? What would my boyfriend’s parents think? Isn’t growing up and becoming normal what people do?

I just can’t own a mini-van. Ever.

I soon found myself looking back (from the ripe ol’ age of 22) on my earlier days of crazy hair colors and earrings spanning the entirety of both my ears. Not that I feel the need to be-jewel my ears again or dye my hair pink again. I think I’ve matured at least somewhat past the “I must look a certain way to be cool” stage. 

But really, do any of us really get over that? I’m just saying. We all dress the way we do for a reason. Because we like it, cool or not. We choose to present ourselves the way we do to make whatever statement we want to make.

I digress. You can go back in time and un-read those last two paragraphs if you’d like.

It was this whole issue, or at least my tiny mention of it this afternoon, that prompted Elliot to diagnose me with a quarter-life crisis. And…I think he’s right. I am in this very unsettling stage where I feel like I should have more things figured out. I don’t know what I want to do. I don’t always know why I say or do the things I am saying or doing. I am lazy. I have an unreasonable desire to purchase a sportscar… No scratch that–that’s the mid-life crisis–but I am just itching for a new tattoo. And a path. 

Recently some things fell into place in my brain. If I can get a job that will actually pay me enough to only work that one job, I can actually have time to practice and play music. Friends, this is big. I am falling so head over heels for the So and So’s (my church band), for that feeling of connection and art and music–not just the sound but the spirit–ugh, I want to do it more. Sometimes I catch myself thinking, “Man, too bad I didn’t get a degree I can use for a job. Why don’t I like anything enough to do it for a job?” And then I have moments playing music, spontaneous “One clap…two claps” erupting from the congregation that I think “Yes. Yes, this is it. This is it.

So, step one: Real job. Step two: BAND. Practicing, writing, honing, disciplining, playing.


dream blog

So my dreams have been just so ridiculous lately that I started a blog about them:

http://mydreamsareweird.wordpress.com Check it out!

Anyway, dudes and dudettes, I have been spending my time reading webcomics at work, crying because I don’t know what I want to do with my life (future blogging on possibilities….), and being the best girlfriend I know how to be.

Seriously, guys, I have read a lot of webcomics. Sorry this blog sucks right now. My thoughts and opinions are being slowly sucked out of me by long days spent staring at the computer screen. It’s entirely possible I am losing both brain cells and IQ points. Maybe that’s why my dreams have been so interesting.

get it, got it, good (vol.1)

Welcome to a new segment of this blog called “Get it, Got it, Good.” If you don’t know me, you may not know that I am sometimes snarky and/or, well, bitchy. I have remained well-mannered until now, but sometimes you just need to know. Expect other articles to follow on tipping etiquette, ticket-buying etiquette, etc. 

People who are allowed to call me “honey”:

1. Elliot

2. My mom, dad, grandparents

3. Sweet old ladies

4. Very cute old men

People who are not allowed to call me “honey”:

1. Any man who is not my father, my boyfriend, or well-meaning and geriatric. If you are some thirty-something a-hole, keep quiet. If you are fifty-something and creepy, shut it.

2. Condescending older ladies. “Look, honey, blah blah blah…”

I often contemplate these rules in my every-day contact with the general public. I had a very sweet old lady today call me “honey” on the phone, and it genuinely made me smile. The way she said it let me know that she really appreciated the information I had to share with her. 

Last weekend, a friend had parked his car in the wrong spot, and while informing the neighbor we would move it, was dismissed by said neighbor and called “honey,” which immediately put me on the defense. 

Anyway, now you know.

seminary fail

Well guys, I guess I am going to sleep on the seminary thing for…another year. If next spring I still want to go, I will, and hopefully I’ll have saved up enough money for it not to be financially strenuous. If I decide I don’t actually need a master’s in theology, I haven’t spent $5k (just the first year, factoring in various scholarships) I don’t have to find out.

The money is not the only angle. Yes, I am trying not to incur more debt on top of what I already have from my undergraduate degree. Yes, I do think that jumping into seminary is a pretty expensive way to test out the waters. And I really just don’t know what I want to do.

I want to spend some time doing some disciplined reading on my own. I want to actually cultivate the discipline necessary to even do disciplined reading on my own, which is something I lack at the moment. For REAL. I want to practice and play more guitar. I want to write songs that have something to communicate. I want to have just one job that can pay my bills and not run me ragged like this two-job nonsense is doing. I want to open a bakery/cafe/gallery. I want to help people.

All in all, I’m only friggin’ twenty-two. I don’t know what the hell I want to do. Fortunately, I have plenty of time to figure my life out, and if it takes me a little longer than I’d originally planned, that’s ok too (or…I want it to be…). At least this way I’m not spending mass amounts of money for a degree that may or may not be useful in the long run.

Le sigh.

pretty terrible

I guess I’m pretty terrible at blogging–it’s been a long time since my last post. I find I often have ideas for posts floating around in my head. I wanted to write one called “Reflections on an Encounter with a Homeless Man,” but then the time passed, and I think I missed all the thoughts that were floating around in my heart. Maybe I’ll return to that one sometime.

Truth is, I feel like I’m in some kind of rut. I am doing the same old same old, trying to figure out how I’m going to pay for seminary in the fall, and working far too much. Blah blah blah. I’m whining. Too much. Sorry.

I just took a little look-see at my past few posts, and realized I promised more info from the conference I attended nearly a month ago now. I will get on that.

As a bonus, here are some things I am enjoying right now: The Weepies, Bellen! (especially the early ones), being in love for the first time, the warm weather, organizing the Memorial Day picnic (!), and dreaming about opening a bakery/cafe/gallery (it could really happen!).

I suppose that’s enough rambling for one day. And I’ll get working on that post from the conference. It would be good for me to revisit it.

Happy long weekend, friends!