…In which I ramble about life in my twenties.

I find that words fail me a lot.  We as human beings need to invent a better method of communication.

I feel… frenzied tonight.  Like I have more energy than I know what to do with.

I would like to be a connoisseur of beauty.  That sounds nice.  Let’s do that.

It’s strange how the same things inspire me now as when I was fifteen.  It’s funny how much changes in nine years, but it’s even funnier how much doesn’t change at all.

I hate cold calling* people I don’t call on a regular basis.  In fact, I have a minor panic attack before I have to do it…  The best way to get it done is to just dial without thinking about it, but it’s impossibly difficult to try NOT to think about something.  I like to think that courage is rewarded.  I’ve found that to be the case before in my life, but I suppose it can’t always work that way.

I went to a dinner party/wedding reception last night with some people that I work with, and I ended up having more interesting conversations with my coworkers than I ever have at work.  One coworker in particular gave me a smattering of random details about her life that I found fascinating, and I would love to get to know her better.  At one point we were talking about the idea of age and retaining a youthful spirit, and I asked her what advice she would give to someone who’s twenty-four.  (She’s in her mid-forties.)  She said that she wished she hadn’t worried as much and had experienced more.  That sounds right on, as far as my life goes.  I spend my time worrying about all sorts of things—the past, the future, what career I’ll have, whether I’ll ever get married/have kids/buy a house, whether I’m wasting my twenties, whether my health will fail me, whether I’ll die in a car accident, whether I’ll ever become a rock star, whether I’m stuck with this acne for the rest of my adult life, whether I’m a bad person when I shop at chain stores, whether I’m making the right choices, whether I have enough friends, and what people think of me… for example.  (I worry a lot.)  I also wish I were doing other things, like traveling more and seeing more plays and going to more concerts and open mic nights and taking more pictures and trying to see every park in Buffalo and learning the guitar and starting a commune and opening a tea shop.  Those are all plausible things, so really I just need to stop being lazy and do them.

The problem for me is that I have no desire to be tied down, but it’s so hard not to be.   I need a job to have money to pay rent to have somewhere to live and to buy food so that I don’t starve, and jobs generally keep me in one place.  If I keep job-hopping that will look bad on my résumé and make it harder for me to find a job at all.  For some reason, it’s hard for me to accept that all one can really expect from a life is a steady job, a home, a family, grocery shopping, going to the gym or the bar, taxes, car insurance, etc.  I’ve always expected more from life than that, but I’ve never really been able to articulate what exactly that is.  Maybe I’m just being greedy.

I think there has to be a balance between accepting things the way they are and trying to be happy, and retaining enough dissatisfaction to motivate you to improve things any way you can.

But I still don’t know what I want.  Buddhism says not to want anything, but I’m not sure I buy that either.  I’ll give it some more thought.


*I’m pretty sure I’m using this phrase wrong because a quick Google search suggested it only applies to call centers.  I guess those four months rubbed off on me…