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.


Well I kind of have good news

I haven’t been fired yet. And from what I understand, the New York office is here to stay so unless I screw up a whole lot, I may just be able to stay.

That little heart attack last week wasn’t exactly fun but it did it’s job; as long as its intended job was to stress me out. Because if that’s the case, it succeeded with flying colors.

Some other nice news is that I might be contributing writer for a legit website. Like a real one. With actual readers. And writers that aren’t just me. I’m not sure how I feel about the website yet because I’m only allowed to write “listicles.” But As long as they publish my writing I’ll be ok.

I’m going to be published!



The weirdest relationships you can have with someone are those that are “ex somethings.”

Not ex boyfriends because you never really dated, but at one point you were involved and maybe even really cared about each other. There was something there and maybe the timing wasn’t right or the stars didn’t align properly, but the strange relationship you two shared was cut short. It makes the grieving process difficult. But it also makes seeing that person again very awkward. Should you hate them? Should you say hi? Or should you wait for him to acknowledge you? Was this something that was unavoidable, but both of you refuse to admit it? Or was one side not putting in the proper effort?

I guess that’s something you’ll never really know, huh?

I always figured that “if it was meant to be it would happen” bullshit was just that, but I was never sure how to process that. What if it wasn’t meant to be? What if it just happened? Then what? What was the point of the pain that weird little relationship caused? Why would fate bring two people together just to torture one of them (or both, who knows?) for the rest of his or her life?

But what if fate is just a figment of the imagination?

What if “fate” and “destiny” are just something people made up to have a scapegoat? Just someone to blame when things didn’t go according to plan?

My cousin, the other day, told me that when people make plans, God laughs. But this wasn’t planned. This was a mess from the beginning. So if that’s the case, if this mess was just that and is always meant to be just that, why happen in the first place? Why even allow the awkward ex something shit to take place?

Whose idea was this?

Maybe being young and naive has a lot to do with it. Maybe it was a test, a way to determine what would be important in the future. But if it was a test, I think I might have failed.

I could never get paid to write. I’m not consistent. Writing doesn’t flow out of me every second of every day. I have no control over it. It comes out in random bursts.
Like when you’re a kid
and you eat too much sugar
and you get a crazy sugar high
and you feel like you’re on top of the world and no one can get you and everything that happens is magic and you’re alive.

But then you crash.

and you’re tired because everything being that amazing for those 2 hours really took a lot out of you.
And you didnt mean to, but you gave your whole self over to the sugar and were like a pint sized Tasmanian devil for those two blissful, sugar-filled hours.

So now you’re down,
it’s over,
everything is back to normal,
you’ve stop twirling around your living room floor and ended up a laughing heap of chocolate covered nothing on your mom’s favorite rug.
You’re content with laying there.

But its not like it wont happen again.
You rest up because of the belly ache your mom warned you about.

And then,
you’re better.

You’re eating sugar again as soon as you can.
You’re trying to fit 20 marshmallows into your mouth at once,
those Halloween “fun sized” candy bars go down like water,
one after the other, until your head is spinning and you’re ready to tear up the house again.

That is exactly how I experience my desire to write.
All at once, then not at all. But soon it’s back, and everything seems like magic.

I’m a writer… I can’t fight that.

I love writing and I love being able to write. But most of the time I write in random places and forget about it. I am trying to stop the forgetting part. I want a place to decorate and make my own, almost like a home on the beach for my thoughts, like the picture. It needs to be cozy and happy and radiate love and positivity, all the things I try to put into my own home. My cousin has a beautiful wordpress and it inspired me to create my own. I look forward to coming back to this and adding thoughts and silly little things. Sometimes you need to just write, and that is what I plan on doing. Image