According to various sources on the Internet, Ernest Hemingway once said, "Write drunk, edit sober."
I don't really know what he'd say about writing sad, but I think being drunk and being sad typically end with the same result: truth. (And honestly, after these two fingers of whiskey, I may be closer to drunk than sad at the end of this blog post. I also have little plan to edit it, so there ya go.)
At the beginning of May, I wrote about being a stayer who was not where she wanted to stay. I'm sad to report that not a whole lot has changed since then.
No middle school teaching job. No new friends.
Matt and I did move into a fairly nice apartment. And I did find a job teaching preschool. And I turned twenty five.
Being twenty five has been kind of depressing, though. Mainly because in the movies, twenty five years olds have it all figured out. They're either raising adorable babies in beautifully decorated houses or they're wildly successful in a job they love.
I did all the right things, ya know. I got married, but Matt and I aren't raising an adorable baby. (That's a huge, emotional post for another time.) And I went to college, wrote a thesis, graduated in four years, and did it all with really minimal student debt. So where's my dream job?
I know there are lots of people who are twenty five and in the exact same boat. I don't need the "you're not alone" pep talk. I just need to not be alone in feeling this. I need someone who also feels like they're sucking at being a grown up to be here in Austin with me.
It would also be really super if someone could give me lessons on how to make friends. Because really, what do married without children people (one who is a introvert, one who is an extrovert) do to make friends in a new city? Are going to a bar or a really awkward Meet Up group the only options?
From the black sheep who has done few od the right things the right way: First and foremost, I'm so very, very, unabashedly sorry I have not visited you. I miss you, and I'm an idiot. That's the root of at least half my issues.
ReplyDeleteMoving on...As an adventureless extrovert suffocating by my own hand in the town she can't (to be read, "is afraid to,") leave, I cannot fathom your social duress. However, knowing your heart and all the beauty you have to offer as a friend, you may find what you're looking for in volunteer work. You get the warm fuzzies from helping others; you get a social experience; and you just may make some new friends.
http://m.austin360.com/news/entertainment/night-life/volunteer-opportunities-6/nRzsj/
In lieu of one of those super-affectionate hugs that alienate the hell out of you, I'll stick (out of necessity) with telling you I love you. And I have faith in you.