what age should i be?

sometimes, i think i was born at the wrong time.  not by too much, either.  a couple years.  what if i were a couple years older?  i envision my life being settled and easy with a 9-5 and a golden retriever or something.  i think this is because i always equated elevated age with elevated success and financial security.

when i was younger, i thought that i would graduate college at age 21, immediately get a great (paying) job, have a fantastic apartment, and be super thin.  oh also, i would have a wonderful boyfriend, and we would be engaged and i would have a dream wedding.  (see?  underneath this crusty exterior, i have girly hopes and dreams!)  so far, none of the above has happened, really.  i have snippets of what i wanted.

i never graduated college.  i started out at an expensive private school.  i couldn’t afford it.  even with loans and grants and scholarships, i was not able to pay for it.  my parents helped out as much as they could, but none of it was enough.  i was angry at my parents for this for a long time.  they should have planned better.  they should have saved more.

but i, too, should have saved more and planned better.  instead, i was doing that typical teenager thing where i think i’m invincible and if i look away, everything will work itself out.  don’t look the problem in the eye, just kind of… don’t look at it at all.  i never took cost into consideration when deciding on a school.  i should have applied to more state schools, and applied for all the crazy state funding.  instead, here i am with three semesters of college education, thinking about the past.

i do have a great job.  in case you didn’t catch it the 25 times i mentioned it in yesterday’s post, i love my job.  i get to work with people, both internal customers and external.  i get to hire, fire, interview, and do some really fun managerial stuff like that.  my company and my managers believe in me and invest in me and i have an awesome sense of calm and security in my workplace.

but i don’t get paid shit.  seriously, i should be getting paid about 1.5 to 2 times what i’m making now.  i am paid hourly, and don’t make double digits.  sad.  yesterday, i went to my parents’ house to continue to clean out my old room there so one of my little brothers can take it over, and instead of cleaning, i spent the whole day writing a resume and browsing on craigslist.

i have a nice apartment, and i love my roommate.  i can’t complain about that at all.

the super thin part, it’s a work in progress.  i am overweight.  i don’t take into considerations what those charts in doctors’ offices say, but instead feel it out.  i have my own ideal weight.  and i am over that by a bit.  i think it’s because i drink too much.  beverage calories are still calories, and i need to consider that more often.  i’ve decided to make a mlk day resolution, though, involving exercise and a lifestyle change.  i’ve done it before, i can do it again.  but i think i should look into why i failed previously and try to eradicate that problem.  to be honest, though, i don’t remember why i failed previously.

and about the boyfriend.  all i have right now are memories.  if you know me, you probably know all about it.  i have hope, memories, and the knowledge that no matter what, my ideal man is out there.  he is.  i’ve seen him, and kissed him.  i don’t like to talk about this.  still, nearly four years later, i cry like a baby when i think too hard about it.

i have a job interview on tuesday.  it would be soliciting people to buy vacuum cleaners.  selling vacuum cleaners was clearly not mentioned in my paragraph up there about my hopes and dreams as a child.  i never thought, though, that the job i would eventually have and love would pay poorly.  right now, i would rather be happy and scrape along with zero dollars than sell my soul for money.

and if i have to sling a couple home appliances in the meantime, so be it.

make note of this phrase: “at the bar last night…”

you may be hearing it a lot.  or some variation thereof.  i have a lot of stories from bars that deal with situations which are fueled by imbibing.

so, for the very first time here in this blog, “At The Bar Last Night,” i was sitting with amanda and two random guys who were probably both trying to hit on her.  we were all talking about football.  one of them was saying that buffalo needs a good cold weather quarterback.  he said our problem is that losman and edwards both went to warm weather schools:  tulane and stanford, respectively.  he suggested donovan mcnabb.

i dissented saying that mcnabb was injury riddled and not so spectacular.  he’s good, by all means, but not The Answer for Buffalo.  also, it’s possible that edwards could be molded into a Good Quarterback.

and then, the man grabbed my wrist.  no.  not okay.  i think he was really into the conversation and just very adamant about his point of view, but he grabbed my wrist hard, to the point where, last night, in the moment, i thought i was going to have a bruise this morning.  i don’t, as it turns out, but i can still feel where he grabbed me, and i have a little red mark.

i yelled at him.  i told him not to touch me.  we’re all buddy buddy here talking about football, but hands are not required for this conversation.  i kind of felt bad about yelling at him, too, because i feel like he really didn’t mean it and just got carried away.  so i smiled after yelling at him, telling him that it’s all right, it was an honest mistake, we’re cool… but don’t ever fucking do it again.