Caught between Diploma and Job & Adulthood and Hiding under my Sheets
Oh well.
I feel I am still the same person; no more or less able to convince the world to pay me for my time. No more or less ready to tackel the big wide world.
This trip truly is no different than when I did it in June. ...
Except for my state of mind, and on the paper at the county clerk's office, post office, and who pays for my cellphone and my rent, and the uncertanty of a potentally non-existent return date
No big deal.
I have been waking up every morning since graduation wondering if I can truly handle all of the details of my life, and whether, when I peel back the covers, I am not going to find that it's my twelfth birthday and I've got another nine years..
My answer has always been go with the flow, it all works out ok. That doesn't seem to be good enough anymore. No one said that the road to becoming an adult would be easy and make sense the first time I tried.
Staying at my parents house vs. Going on this "trip" feels like one of the largest most life changing decisions of my life.
Perhaps it is...
Perhaps I am already an adult and just don't realize it yet.
You could call and ask about if you choose. I hope the person you call actually knows who I am. No, calling the local zoo keeper won't get you anywhere. At least, I hope they don't know me.
So, the point of a phone call is to prove that I got a title written on paper that shows I can do a whole bunch of work and not be flakey? That I stuck around long enough and got the title?
It's interesting how after spending three very luxurious sports cars worth of money and three years of my life leads to a simple one line title. After a few weeks of job hunting I almost feel ready to turn it in for another common title"intern", or perhaps : "permanently financially challenged."
Mostly this is a light-hearted critique of my own fears and resulting lack of drive. Literally. I need to drive to LA.
It's hard to convince myself to get packed and spend the three days in my 89 Prism prison...
The trip itself isn't the scary part. The scary part will be leaving my roomat my parents house in a state where you can actually see the floor. Perhaps the dust bunnies will stop multiplying.
This trip is different mentally from all of the other trips I've taken all over the country because this is "the move," "the trip". Though it isn't logical, I think that since I was a child I always thought I would feel differently when I took the status of "adult".