i'm happy. i'm in love, i have a job where what i do actually *matters* to someone, i'm even getting an authorship credit for this chapter (damn good thing, considering that i'm practically rewriting it), i like my roommates, i like my kittens, i have friends and a social life here.
of course, i have problems with all this. this *is* alt.angst.
everything takes up time. being with people takes time. reading the net takes time (and i haven't been able to spend the time doing it lately). maintaining relationships with people you care about takes lots of time, especially if they live in other cities. work eats vast amounts of time. it's all slipping away from me and i'm just rushing through it day-to-day, not really making conscious choices about "i want this and don't want that." i'm just now learning how to prioritize things at work, how to tell someone that i just don't have time to do what it is they want done.
but too many things i like about myself are quietly slipping away. what happened to the person who wrote weird and evocative and sometimes wise stuff and threw it at net.people? what happened to my novel? what happened to all the stuff i wanted to do? now it looks like i'm going to go to grad school next fall, which means even more demands on me. and all of this is just happening, gradually, and i'm not controlling it at all and it's freaking me out.
i miss the days when i worked a 20-hr-a-week job that was left behind when i went home, when i styed up til 3 am playing solitaire, reading the net, watching mtv while talking on the phone. i miss being a slacker with too much free time to fill. directionlessness was peaceful. now i have meaning and purpose in my life and it sucks rocks. i even miss a little the uncertainty of being unattached and wondering who the next person i'd date would be. sigh.
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sine | deb
yeah, yeah, so i'm never satisfied.