Unemployment Revisted: Day One

“When things go wrong, don't go with them.” ― Elvis Presley

I have thrown this quote all over my social networks today in honor of The King's birthday. But also as a small comment on my recent job loss. 

Yup. I did it again. I am apparently not cut out for a nine to five.

Alas, this calls for a revisit to the question o' life: what am I cut out for? Let's review my day. See if that holds any answers.

I woke up late, spent the morning in pajamas and writing articles for the IT company that graciously pays me to produce content for some sweet blogs. 

Got harassed by the cats. Fed the cats.

Fed myself. Watched Psych on Netfilx while I fed myself.

Then I went to the coffee shop, ordered a quite enormous maple spice latte, wrote more articles, and surfed Twitterland and the #myfriendsaremarried tumblr (definitely a must for all of those in my boat: AKA the boat of misfit toys circling twentysomething island.)

Returned to my abode. Paged through my new Rolling Stone (hello Jimmy Kimmel buttcrack.)

Mega-fancy branches

And then I spray-painted some branches to adorn a purty vase.

Annnnd now here we are.

So, looks like my life's journey has led me to drinking coffee and typing, with spray-paint stained fingers, tech-a-licious articles.

How did you discover what to do with your life? I'm on the verge of desperately contacting a career counselor or going to the library to check-out self-help books, so please, save me from myself.

Refusing to be Consumed by a Timeline

I am deep in the throes of my quarter-life crisis in every possible way. At twenty-five years old, I have successfully ruled out a career in education, a career in psych, had several unsuccessful relationships, been treated for depression, changed addresses a couple of times, bought a new car, started a running regimen, and purchased a couple of really short skirts I'm certainly not brave young enough to wear. All in the past two years.

So, when I happened upon the article "30 Things You Don’t Have to Have By 30" on The Daily Muse recently, my heart melted. I wasn't alone in my confusion. Although my panic certainly isn't unwarranted (a steady income to go along with my pretty Bachelor's degree wouldn't suck), it also doesn't have to consume me.

The post charmed me instantly: "Is life about checking some items off a list? No. It’s about living—in whichever way and on whatever timeline works for you."

Some of the "items" the author assures me I'm okay without? 

"A child. Or a pet. Or even an herb garden."
"Your dream job. Or even an idea of what that might be."
"A 'bedroom set.'"
"An answer to, 'Where do you see yourself in five years?'"
"The ability to turn down 2-for-1 margaritas at Happy Hour."

And my favorite: "Any idea of what the future will hold. As GloriaSteinem puts it: 'I want to say to you that there is life and dreams and surprises after 30—and 40, and 50, and 60, and 77! Believe me, life is one long surprise.'"

 So, although I have handled my decisions and inadequacies quite capriciously so far (hence the blog title,) I am becoming more and more confident every day that I am okay with that. Quit my day job (again) without much reason or explanation for the general public? Sure. Run away on a mini-vacay for the weekend without enough money in my bank account to support much more than the gas money there? You betcha. Because I’m going to be happy on my own schedule and in my own slightly neurotic way.

My return to blogging.

A strange second attempt at blogging about my personal life.

Why strange? Because a year ago I was running two highly successful, highly personal blogs and madly in love with my exhibitionist writing... so much so that I knew I would never end the passionate love affair I had started with Blogger.

But I did.

Because it started to hurt.

It hurt because I had the propensity to over-share. To pour out every intimate detail of my simple life. And by sharing my blogs with all of my friends and family members, it became difficult to draw the line between what was well-written, therapeutic writing and what was simply too hard to talk about with those closest to me. The death of a close friend, the ending of a relationship, the struggles I was facing in my career... these all were issues badgering me into ending something I loved doing.

So I am back. With the lessons I have learned and plenty more to gather the hard way.

And with that, I welcome you to my Capricious Quarter Life, full of doubt and confusion and decisions guided by my ever-changing whims. And bourbon.