I think I’m lost

Since starting a new job four weeks ago, a lot of my free time (not that I have much) has been spent panicking over my future. 

  • What will I do? 
  • Where do I go from here? 
  • How will I support myself as an adult? 
  • Do I really want to continue on this road?
  • Where does this road even lead?
  • Was this a mistake?
  • Why did I leave my old job?
  • Am I smart enough to be here?
  • Do I even know what I’m doing??

At any given moment, these and countless other extremely frightening  questions can be found swimming through my head, drowning any thought of happiness  or contentment. My brain swells with thoughts that threaten to keep me awake at night, staring into the dark abyss, uncomfortably aware that I might never make anything of myself. Of course I can’t begin getting comfortable at this new place. Everything is wrong. I’m not smart enough to be here. I’m not smart enough to be anywhere! I’m useless and talentless. There is nothing more disheartening then realizing that you are mediocre, that you possess no unique talents, and that there are plenty of other people who can do exactly what you do, only way fucking better. 

So then, the question becomes how does one make it through this unscathed? Or at least in one piece… Can I get better? I can take classes. I can go back to school. But do I really way to spend all my money for a masters degree in something I probably won’t like in 3 years? Could I even make it through the program? How much does a master degree cost? Would I be able to budget my time accordingly? I can’t commit to this… What if I don’t like it and don’t want to do it after a few days? Do universities offer refunds? This is way too much for me. 

My mind feels like a WWE wrestling match. Right now, any form of delight I might have had over now working in Soho, or living at my summer house, or even the God damn weather, is getting beaten to a pulp with a folding chair in the corner of the ring, with its head lolling lower and lower and it’s nose bleeding profusely. I can’t tell if I’m frustrated about not having a general direction to run in, or if I’m completely terrified of it.

Having a goal would help tremendously. But as you can see, I’m goal-less. The way I see it, I’m basically spitting in the wind, hoping it won’t come back and hit me in the face. But I know it will. Your career doesn’t seem like the kind of thing you want to follow the current with, if that makes sense. This is not a “go with the flow” kind of situation. I can’t just see where the stream takes me. Unless I’m wrong. And while it is highly probable that I am wrong, I’m still pretty damn screwed, possibly more then originally anticipated. Because if your career is something that you want to lift your feet for and follow the current, I might not be able to relinquish control long enough to. I like to pretend that I’m spontaneous and adventurous, but if I’m being serious here, the most spontaneous thing I’ve done all week was stop to get gas this morning on my way to work when my gas light when on earlier than anticipated.

So what do I do?

Do I spend the money, go back to school and hate the masters I’m only a quarter of the way through with? 

Do I try and stick with the current plan and work to be an advertising sales representative, even though I know full well that I’d be the worst salesperson in the whole universe? Or do I just quit, steal a cardboard box and sleep on the beach in Breezy Point for the rest of my life?

I have no fucking clue. Maybe I need a life coach.


The Realist Vs. The Romantic

(Taken from here)

Talking to my mom made me realize that I might be more of a realist than I originally thought. Or maybe not? I don’t know. Let me explain…

I love my boyfriend. I love him dearly and I know that eventually we will be married. But whether that’s in a year or 5 years (which I certainly hope it’s not that long) I know we will be married, we will grow old together and make a life and home together and eventually die and together we will haunt the heck out of people and absolutely love every second of it. 

That being said, I don’t think getting married young is the best thing for me. Ok so I’m not 18, but 24 is still barely considered an adult by my generation. In my office no one under 30 is married. Actually, no one under thirty is even in a relationship besides me. But my reasoning behind not wanting to be married yet has nothing to do with my coworkers. I want to be ready.

I want to be emotionally, financially, and physically prepared to create a life with a man I never want to be apart from. And because of that, I don’t think getting married yet is a good idea. 

But to get back to my original statement; my mother was looking through the university magazine that my sister got from the college she is currently a sophomore in. While skimming the pages, my mom found an article about all of the couples who got married on campus this year, including multiple couples that only graduated a year or two ago. I callously said they were dumb. I should have kept my comment to myself but I didn’t think anything of it as I blurted it out. My mother asked why I felt this way and I explained that as a 23/24 year old, you’re still a kid; you’re probably not making much money, you barely have a legitimate job (if one at all,) and there’s a decent chance you don’t even know who you are as a person. While giving my reasons, I forgot that my parents were 23 and 24 when they walked down the isle. My mom tried to explain that when you love someone your priorities change and money  eventually makes its way into your life. But with half of marriages ending in divorce and one of the main reasons for separation being money issues, would you really want to take what chance with someone you love, was my answer. 

That’s when I think she gave up on me. She already had doubts about my relationship and I think I accidentally added my fuel to the fire. But like I said, I didn’t mean too. My main point was that I plan on getting married once, to the man I am currently dating and am absolutely in love with. And when I marry him, I plan on making it perfect. So I plan on being financially stable. I want to make sure I can avoid whatever issues are avoidable. I want to make sure that if we do decide to start a family, he and I will be able to give our family everything it needs to grow and more. I know I can’t plan for everything but I would like to at least try. I want to be an adult, even if I may not feel 100% adult-like.

So maybe I’m realistic, or maybe I’m the dreamer. Maybe this is all ridiculous and my mom is the realist while I, the self proclaimed heart of ice, am the romantic. Maybe the idea of being financially stable is a myth and I’m the one harping on fantasies when I can be planning a wedding. 

But I guess I’ll just have to wait and see how it all goes. Wish me luck.

Goals… Kind of

Growing up is a funny thing, you know? My entire life, college was my goal. I knew from kindergarten that I would eventually attend a university. I was going to go somewhere amazing with ivy covered buildings and I was going to study really hard and I was going to be a success.

Somewhere between kindergarten and actually getting into college, I realized that I had never made a plan for after college. Finally, I was about to enter an old ivy covered hall and had no idea how to get back out.

Fast forward 6(ish) years and I am seen as an adult by the world. I have a job with a steady paycheck at a newspaper company in Manhattan, and I have absolutely no idea what the heck I will be doing for the rest of my life. At the moment, the most terrifying question someone could ask me is “where do you see yourself in 5 years?” Dude, I don’t even know where I see myself tomorrow. No one ever told me deciding what I want to do with my life would be this difficult. No one ever said it would have to be decided so suddenly, I guess. My parents always told me I needed to have a plan, that the only way to get through life is to have goals, and for the first time in my life I have no plan, no direction, not even a vague idea of what I want and how to get there. To quote Pheobe Buffay, “I don’t even have a ‘pla’.”

So now what do I do? Where do I go from here? How do I climb up the corporate ladder (or any ladder with a pay check, honestly) to become the badass I want to be? I know I want to be successful, I know I want a badass career by the time I’m 30 but other than that, I know nothing and I absolutely hate it. How did this happen?? How did I let this happen? This scares me. If there was ever a time for my dead ancestors to show and guide me, this would be it. But until I see some dead people, I’m going to have to organize my life.

I tried today, kind of. Well, I went to Staples, at least. Staples is the place I would go in college when I was stressed and needed to organize myself. So I went. But the Staples by me sucked. So I bought $8 worth of candy and came back to my office. I’m obviously far from where I need to be but I guess this is a start. Hopefully, I can figure out the plan I need to have and finally get my life on the track I want it on.

Until then, I’m going to eat these chocolate turtles and research Santorini. Why? Because getting there is a goal, and goals are good.


I finally changed my blog name and url. Everything is different and awesome and it was time.

When I started this blog I was in a completely different place in my life. I was 21 years old, I had just graduated college, I could funnel two beers in 4 seconds, I was about to start my first real job in Manhattan, I was single, I ate Chinese food and pizza as breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I partied like a college kid, I was able to function – like actually be a real person with less than 3 hours of sleep and random naps during the day, I lived with my friends, I was enjoying life, I didn’t know what I wanted to do in life, but I was so happy and nervous and giddy and excited and anxious about what would come next that it didn’t matter.

Now I’m different.

I’m 22, I work a 40 hour work week, I can down an espresso in 4 seconds without burning myself, I realized how depressing working 8 hours a day really is, I’m in love with the cutest dork in the world, I diet most of the time, I sleep from 10pm to 6am every weekday night, I live home with my family who I barely see during the week, I get sad during the winter, but I’m still happy and nervous and giddy and excited and anxious because I’m home with people I love that make bread randomly and know which fruit snacks to buy me from Costco.

My life is different, I’m different and I’m starting to understand that that is ok. It’s ok that I’m not the same person I was a year ago. It’s not bad that I’ve grown and realized what is good for me (fruit) and what is bad for me (Chinese food 4 times a week.) It is alright that I don’t spend my Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday nights in a bar downing tequila and screaming the words to old songs. I don’t need to be that person anymore because, as much as I’ve tried to fight it, I am growing up. I’m becoming an adult. I’m drinking coffee at 8 in the morning to prepare myself for work instead of at 3 in the morning to keep me going through an all-nighter. I’m interested in other things besides myself and it’s pretty cool.

Yes, I miss having no responsibilities. Yes, I miss the naps and the free time and the jello shots. But that’s ok. Jello shots aren’t bad for you when had every once in a while. Plus, the wait in between makes them taste better.

So, here’s to new beginnings, growing up, work days, business lunches, days off, weekend getaways, iced coffees and gummy worms.