?

Log in

T-Minus One Week

And I'm terrified. I'm sad. I'm alone. Or, I will be alone. Ending something that could have been very sweet and beautiful and real, chucking it up to bad timing. I'm so sorry it has to end this way baby. No, it wasn't going to last forever, but I would have liked to see how close to forever we could get. But I can't stay for you, I can't stay for anyone. No one. Looks like I'll be flying solo for a bit. We'll have our mad, solemn, teary-eyed goodbye at the airport (cheesy like you like it), and that'll be it. Maybe I'll see you in January like you said I would (I'd love to meet your brother), but that's a winter away. A world can fall apart in four months.

For what it's worth, thank you -- you've helped me to realize the good in people and appreciate the bad. Remember when you told me -- you corrected me -- you said, 'No one is irredeemable'? I want to love others the way you love them. You're going to be my lifeline this coming week. You're going to hold me if I cry, you're going to tell me angelic, comforting things, and you're going to make me miss you that much more. I'm going to stain your shirt with my tears, discard whatever beautiful advice you give me through jarred breaths, and overwhelm you with all of my hesitancy and fear. Don't give up on me. Every time things get hard, I think about your soft reminder -- yes it's tough yes it's sad but everyone is so excited for you. This is your dream, Caitlin, and what's going to keep you going is how happy and supportive the people in your life are for you.

Not that I'm glorifying you, you certainly have your flaws and we certainly weren't going to last a lifetime. But I've learned so much from you, it's such a damn shame that we can't have more time together. I'm leaving you in California, come find me in New York if you please.

There are plenty of other things to say, plenty of other goodbyes to write and more positive things to share. Perhaps I will save them for another time.

Gone.

Oh boys, how I missed you! Currently in a molting process. I love this new life and all of the possibilities it proffers.

I suppose it's been quite a summer here in Los Angeles, and now it's time to get back to worrying about grad school. I look forward to the coming months and am determined to greet whatever the future brings.

Tomorrow I start volunteering. Hopefully I can find something that's intellectually productive and stick with it.

No matter how tired, lonely, frustrated, overwhelmed, or unprepared I am, I remain positive. I am bound to walk my own path, slowly and steadily, step by step. So many opportunities, and they each have a quiet beauty about them.

Not trying to sound fruity, it's just nice to wake up and feel relief after so long.

My mom was diagnosed with cancer this week. I'm not announcing it to the world, I just feel it's important to not forget for my own sake. We'll deal with it when the time comes and when the facts are clearer.

Unprepared

Well, here I am. Trying to figure out my future and not quite succeeding. I'm not where I wanted to be when I graduated, but I'm also doing a lot better than most recent exiles of the college bubble. The job isn't horrible. The pay is above the poverty line. The work isn't demanding, there are no real deadlines. I can complete most tasks while reading Time Magazine on my phone, unquestionably the only intellectually stimulating highlight of this sinecure. But the thought of settling, of remaining in this position not because it is the best use of my time or my potential but because it is the most convenient option, depresses me. If I stay too long, I'll become so unmotivated and dull that the company will have no choice but to promote me. Too many inane conversations about the weather will do that to you I guess. No salary is worth my soul. I hope I remember this bitterness when I'm 30, and I'm not living in it.

On the bright side, a coworker turned me on to the perfect place to take a nap in the office: the library. I look forward to many solitary lunch breaks sprawled over two chairs.

I miss traveling. Above everything, I miss traveling. For the record, I am down for any weekend road trip. My dad is currently en route to Scotland and I would be there with him in a heartbeat if I could afford the time off of work. I love to see him happy.

I turned down Columbia. It wasn't for me. And no, I'm not crazy. Something better will come along.

One sad little girl

So how does it feel to be accepted into a graduate program at an Ivy League university? An institution older than this nation and responsible for educating several founding fathers, Presidents, and my personal literary heroes? Not quite the way it would have felt to be offered admission into my first choice. Thank you for this honor, but it is not an opportune opportunity for me. How could I ever earn enough money with the degree I would be granted in this program to pay for it? A month ago I would have gone through hell to be in New York by September, but now I just don't know if I'm up for it. My confidence has been shattered, my spirit broken, and myself lost. If I don't do this, who knows what next year will bring? No, I couldn't dream of getting into a better school, but I could hope to get into a program that promises its students more of a career path and some funding. At this price, I can't afford a recreational master's degree. It was fine for a back-up plan, but one I never expected to become my only option. What should I do? I'm running out of time, fast. Who decides to give you two weeks to decide all of this, anyway? I need advice from someone who knows what they're talking about.

Can I really spend a whole year at my current job? What can staying in Los Angeles offer me, what?

Will the prestige of the school outweigh the merit of the program? How many doors can this open for me?

I remain at least consoled by the thought that if I can get in here, I can get in almost anywhere. Right?

What it used to be to me

Today was the day I wished for the confidence to become the person I have always wanted to be: a hippie. To live life and love life as a pedantic aesthete by shirking these misanthropic tendencies and escaping to some sort of learned artists' colony. To find a haven for post-grads who know what life is but still fight for what life ought to be. Yellow walls, musty furniture, and conversations about Whitman, Dostoevsky, and Ginsberg. Not that I have read much Dostoevsky, but I will. Yes, and plenty of coffee with a throat to swallow all of it without pain in the morning. Romantically poor (all romance is dearth), but polished. Well I'm far from where I want to be, because I've become distracted by determining where I need to be. Where is that? No fucking clue. Probably not here. Maybe the San Francisco trip at the end of the month will clear my head a little.

Why bother talking at work? All those conversations are so stupid and pointless. I hate laughing when nobody said anything funny.

I will not leave hurt, but I will leave sad. Not angry or bitter, but scared. I look forward to the changes and challenges ahead, I just wish they would come a little sooner.

Cut Off by the Rim of the World

You lost a damn good friend, and if time has taught you anything I hope it has taught you that.

If the years provided any service of instruction to me, however, one of the hardest lessons I have learned through experience is that happiness is not absolute. Each path you take in life demands that you not traverse its alternate, and neither of them guarantee a seamless, un-lonely, angelic state of existence. But one direction can afford you more fulfilment than other routes, so weigh these options with prudence and prescience.

I want to know what is beautiful about L.A., but I can't see it. I've grown faintly disappointed with this city. Will flight solve all of my problems? No, it can't. Will I miss L.A.? Of course I will. I will. But a brighter beacon beckons and I refuse to cast off that light. Every life requires sacrifice and I feel that this new one will reward me manifold, even if it means giving up this current one. I'll come back to this later. Promise.

A Post-Undergraduate Elegy

... Thus I conclude my undergraduate career and stumble into the ranks of the unemployed.

It's been two days since my last final and I exist now in a state of complete disarray. This is terrifying. I am directionless. This is depressing. I am alone.

Submitted my first resume as a college graduate today. Was blind-sided with a phone interview twenty minutes later. Yes I would like a job but Jesus can't I get a free weekend first?

I just don't know what to do with myself. So much to think about and so little to do. I don't want college to be over, I just started enjoying it.

I know what I need and I know what I want and I know that I'm not getting either. What I'm getting is more of what I have and what I have is a burden more than it's not.



eXTReMe Tracker




Walk On, Walk On

I'm just ready to move on. But where do I start? I wish I began sooner, so much time was wasted back then.

Praying to God that my plans come through. If it all falls apart, then I'm stuck. If it all comes together, then I'll be terrified. No back up plan, I can't imagine a back up plan at this point. One more night of work and then what?

Employment. Oh, not again. Rejection is something I've had my fill of, thanks anyway.

At least it's been a great two quarters. Would love it to last, would love it to be easier, would love it to continue paying the bills. But sometimes you just know when it's right to walk. So onward, then. I'm as ready as anybody ever was, I guess.

I need to get out of here

Oh, the things I would say had I the temerity to speak my mind.
If the apocalypse were ever to arrive, you would be the first to die. My boyfriend's cat would outlive you. My mother would outlive you. The animals in the zoo that have no option but to sit in their cages and starve after their zoo-keeper friends resort to cannibalism would outlive you. Because you are worthless. I don't care how educated you are, if your intelligence is not applicable to social situations or to any circumstances requiring conversation, strength, and hard work then it offers you nothing. Not that I would exactly reach old age and die of natural causes if the four horsemen were to come riding on in, but at least I would hold on to life longer than a woman whose diet has consisted of Pacificos and cigarettes for the past forty years.

I need to get out of here and I can finally see myself doing it. I'm ready. I'm excited. I miss Scotland, but I feel I can gain more by heading for New York, the land of Walt Whitman. L.A.'s just keeping me down, I need to be somewhere far from my comfort zone.

Sep. 6th, 2009

I suspect that somebody wrote a PostSecret for me. Now if only these things weren't completely anonymous, my day would be made.

Write to me.