I got back from New Orleans yesterday evening. I have yet to sleep, and I’ve got a lot of stuff on my mind today. Stuff that I had been thinking about, mostly peripherally, over my two week vacation. Frankly, it’s stuff that I don’t want to think about, because all it accomplishes is a persistent, though thankfully fleeting, sense of uncertainty. I don’t feel… comfortable, or secure, and I feel like my timing, my inbred Irish luck is in retrograde or something.

I feel so betwixt and between. Liminal. It’s unsettling, and I can’t shake it. The blatantly experiential nature of this transition has permeated the mutable aspects of my life. Sounds like I’m saying something fancy, but I’m really not. Basically, I know I have an internship in Sarasota for 2 months. I know I have 1 year left in grad school. My academic and professional lives are structured, organized, totes fine. The uncertainty has punctured my relationships because it has nowhere else to go. It’s stressful and anxiety inducing, and it turns me 180 degrees intermittently. I go from feeling pretty confident, together, sure of myself, to a wellspring of self-doubt in the blink of an eye. Dating around is partly to blame, methinks. It’s just so fucking weird. I don’t mind dating several people at one time, but the moment I get really into one person I become much less interested in expending the energy it takes to be single and flirtatious. But then, it’s so hard to tell if the other person is on the same page, especially when you meet via casual interfaces like Tinder and OKCupid. And when do you have that conversation? And will you be successful in disguising your disappointment if you don’t get the answer you were hoping for? I mean, ya know, I got that fragile pride to protect.

And then there’s the whole notion of ‘leagues’. I was discussing said concocted social construct with my lovely friend V over our fourth brunch in the course of 2 1/2 days during my time in New Orleans. I was expressing concern. I felt like I liked this kid, but I wasn’t sure about the degree of reciprocation; and because my life has felt all metaphorically uprooted lately, it was causing an unusual amount of stress for me. V made the compelling observation that I didn’t really know what was ‘out of my league’ or not, so why didn’t I embrace that challenge and just see what I could get? My response was typical L’s: ‘uhhh, I dunno? ‘Cause it’ll suck when I reach that glass ceiling? Because my self-confidence has been so rocky lately? Because rejection is shitty?’ I mean, I’ve dated guys that clearly weren’t for me in the end, but was that a ‘league’ issue? If so, on who’s side and to what degree? The notion of ‘reacher’ / ‘settler’ seems so one-sided, as if the settler is some demi-god. In reality, it takes two to tango. It takes two to make a thing go right. It takes two *insert additional colloquial cliches here*.

I feel in-between in terms of my level of appropriated and conceived adulthood, too. I feel like 75% there in terms of becoming an adult. But I don’t know if I wanna complete the transition. With the end of the semester, among some other excellent things, I’ve over-celebrated and made a bit of an ass of myself, amongst family, amongst friends. While I hate getting that drunk that I act that way, I don’t wanna be all grown up just yet, man. Being all grown up just sounds fucking depressing, full of bran cereal and watching ‘merely-ok’ shows on cable. I’m not saying I wanna be the same party girl I was a couple years ago… I just… I don’t know!! I don’t know how I can meld my love for occasionally impish shenanigans with the necessary evil of fiber concern or saving for retirement. Being an adult is fucking hard, and kind of depressing to me. Maybe I feel that way because I feel so emotionally stunted too. Like, I know I wanna get married, ya know, one day. But the ubiquitous nature of social media, especially at my ripe age and gender, is overflowing with nuptials and lil’ babes. I don’t wanna get married tomorrow or anything, but ugh, I just don’t wanna be a spinster. But again… the older I get, the less that life event seems likely for me. I know, I know, I’m being dramatic. I don’t wanna stress over it, because all that does is make things seems worse than they really are. But this is what happens sometimes when I don’t sleep for 36 hours (no seriously, I’ve been in 3 time zones in the past few days and my circadian rhythm is like a topless woman riding a unicycle backwards – almost certainly fucked, but unknown by what exactly). So consider this a semi-stream-of-consciousness episode. I was thinking too much and it was keeping me awake, so maybe now I can get some shut-eye. Usually helps when I get it from my head to ‘paper’. *fingers crossed*


Current Jam: “Sculptors and Vandals” The Menzingers (“walk home single / seein’ double”)

Current quote: “Indie rock, you’re pretty cool, but us punks have D4 so we win.” -Menzingers tweet

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