This, of course, comes up because I'm terrified that I'm doing things wrong. My whole life, I've worked for I don't know what... and it's terrifying to recognize that. I'm here in school, basically marking time now until I graduate and trying to find things that set me up and make me look distinctive for an internship that I, until recently, have only dreamed about getting. Well, am still dreaming about getting. I can see it in my own reality... it just seems too fantastic. I think of it as the impossible dream for a reason. But I don't know what I'm doing. If things don't work out, what am I left with? Is blogging really every going to pay off? What if I never finish writing any of the countless things I've started? What if I don't get any internships and graduate with no idea of what I want to do in life?
These questions really start to bog me down, especially after the event I just experienced. I was supposed to let the roofer into the apartment building to do some maintenance, I couldn't find him anywhere. I couldn't call him back because I didn't have his number and, when I did get his number, it was an hour after I was supposed to meet him and I'd already spent a half an hour walking around the outside of the building looking for him. Apparently he was there for about five minutes and left so it totally wasn't my fault. BUT I WAS PISSED. It made me feel so small, so powerless. This job is already rough sometimes because every once in a while, I get the feeling that people don't believe we can actually do this job because we're women. And then I feel like I just can't do this job because I'm 20 years old and I don't exactly look like a manager. And then I just feel like shit. So basically I was just pissed off about being treated like shit. And suddenly, all the things that had made my day good seemed unimportant and trivial. So what if Jules, my CSCL advisor, said that there's absolutely no reason not to try for the Late Late Show internship? So what if I overcame the bystander affect we were talking about in psych class and didn't assume that someone was going to return the key I found in the bathroom and instead returned said key to a very grateful woman in the writing center? So what if I feel like I'm actually going to have an interesting (if totally embarrassing) Nanowrimo story this year? So what if I totally have a celebrity crush on John Barrowman and dream about working for Craig Ferguson and want to be a famous writer? None of that matters because I suck at my job and no one respects me and no one cares about me and I fail at life. At least that's how I felt until I had a little cry, vented to [Львица] and listened to the title song from the musical "Sunset Boulevard" because it's been stuck in my head all day (again, showtunes invading my mind...)
Clearly, I don't suck at my job, people respect me, people care about me and I don't fail at life. But it's hard to think about and appreciate all the things I've accomplished when so many things I want are just... so lofty. I don't think I'm an egotist, I just think I ask a lot out of life. But when am I asking too much? But I so, so so much want to believe this:
Sometimes I feel like I should be doing more than what I am to prepare myself - working at some job half the time or leading some student government position or something. But some of those things aren't who I am. And there is only so much I can do in the time that has been given to me. Which is a frightening, staggering thought on many levels... though it's got a nice Lord of the Rings vibe to it. Yes, I don't have much time left before I graduate, before that deadline for the internship is due, before I have to decided what I'm going to do with my life before I kick the bucket and accept that mortality is a fact of life. Unless you're Jack Harkness, of course. But on that plus side, I shouldn't make myself do things I don't really want to do or give up things that truly matter to me. I'm going to run out and overwork myself and let my grades suffer just to impress someone. I'm not going to get involved with something I don't really care about. I'm not going to give up blogging just because I don't have that many followers or I feel like no one cares what I think or because Blogger will never recommend it to anyone and pretends this page doesn't exist. I don't blog for anyone, exactly - I blog because I can. I blog because I enjoy it. I blog for me.
Because when things get rough, it's nice to know that I have this thing, this creation of mine to fall back on. It's a nice comfort. Not to mention I'm finally happy with how the layout looks.
Now, if you don't mind, I'm to stop blogging for a while and go write the worst romance novel ever written and stop being such a gloomy schmuck. Ridiculous sappy storyline - Go!
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