Confessions of the Divine Miss K

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Words of Comfort from U2

So in the words of that great singer Bono, it seems that I’m “stuck in a moment” just like Tam was back in grad school. My problem is that I’m not quite sure how to unstick myself. I’m still unemployed and what with the economy being the way it is, there just aren’t that many job opportunities. But then I wonder if that even makes a difference. I mean, do I really just want a job? Some place to whittle away the hours between 9am and 5pm so that I can simply collect a pay cheque with which to pay down our mortgage faster, buy a new car sooner, get a trailer this summer instead of next?

There are those people who are content to just work at some hohum place of employment and are happy enough because yeah, while being a legal secretary might not knock their socks off each day, it helps achieve a certain lifestyle that they enjoy. And I get that and accept that and God bless us, we all just have to suck up the fact that sometimes life is about doing things we don’t want to, and that includes getting up every day and going to a job that we may not love.

I’ve done that. I’ve done that for nearly seven years, always hoping that this path of mediocre employment was leading to an amazing opportunity that would be my career. For nearly seven years I have sat in front of a computer, Monday to Friday, looking up People magazine online, reading about other people’s lives on blogs and half-heartedly researching online Master’s programs, all the while hoping that I was getting somewhat closer to figuring out what I’m supposed to do with my life.

It’s funny – I’ve had to make some consequential decisions in my lifetime, many of them with irrevocable destinies – where to go to university, whether I should move back to Crannie, if Adam and I should marry, when to have kids, should Charkins and I prostitute ourselves to pay for the next leg of our European tour. But I haven’t agonized over any of those decisions the way I have over my career, or what I grandly call “my purpose in life.”

I want to write for a living but I don’t even keep a diary anymore or hell, update my blog! I want to edit books but am stuck in a small-town with little opportunity to do that. I want to go get my Master’s but what I’m interested in isn’t offered online and I don’t want to leave my husband and home for weeks at a time to go study elsewhere. I’m stuck. So very stuck.

Maybe I’m so fixated on this concept of a career that challenges and inspires me because nothing else does. I told Adders the other day that I feel passionless. And I feel so alone in that. Take my husband – while he doesn’t LOVE love his job, he loves enough other things about his life that make his job and the subsequent paycheque worth it. He loves fishing and quadding and hunting with his dad. He loves golfing and watching TV. He loves hiking and building things and working with his hands.

I love … cuddling with Lucy. I love … going for walks with my mom. I love … watching a few select TV shows but if I watch too much TV in a given day, I’ll probably start to feel guilty and lazy and I’ll wonder what we’re doing with our lives. I love … reading a really good book but those are hard to come by. I love … going to the movies, until I’m actually in the theatre and there is a fat guy munching on his popcorn too loud and a group of teenagers laughing too loudly at the jokes and some 13 year old texting in the middle of the goddamn show. So truthfully, I don’t love much.

Which leads me to the biggest piece of bull shit advice I have heard: determine what you love to do and find a way to make money at it. Yeah, let me just sit here and ponder how rubbing my dog’s silky blonde ears is going to be a good career move and make me into a millionaire. It’s not. Because I love nothing! And am clearly good for nothing but a job full of mediocrity and boredom.

I was thinking about that last post of mine, where I wrote that if I could have a do-over, I’d change my undergraduate degree. I don’t even think I believe that. Because what else would I have studied? What else would I have become? Some marketing asshole? A clothing store owner? Even with any other degree, I think I’d still be sitting here wondering what the next step is, what the answer is, where I’m headed.

A friend of my family’s once said that she got pregnant with her baby because she and her husband were tired of sitting around on the weekends, trying to think of something to do. At 21 I thought that was a depressing reason to have a baby. Now I think it’s pretty much a conclusion.

I don’t have a pithy ending for this post. Just a reiteration that 27 really sucks. And while I’m grateful for so many things – a husband who tries not to be insensitive, a mother who knows exactly what I’m struggling with, a best friend who texts me words of encouragement, and a puppy dog that fills my heart with joy every single day – I still feel mired in a wash of disappointment, frustration and angst.

However Bono’s song doesn’t leave you directionless. He gives out some instructions that seem downright spiritual right now: “I never thought you were a fool. But darling look at you. You gotta stand up straight, carry your own weight. These tears are going no where […] You are such a fool to worry like you do. Oh, I know it’s tough. And you can never get enough of what you don’t really need now. My oh my. You’ve got to get yourself together. You’ve got stuck in a moment […]”

Sunday, August 09, 2009

The Countdown to 30

Hi. I kinda hate my life. How have you been? Gee, that's great. I'm so happy for you. Yeah, no, I'm not joking. I really do kinda hate my life.

Marriage - meh.
Kids - not anytime soon.
Job - just got fired 10 days ago.
House - this just in! It doesn't clean itself.
Family - sigh.

Yeah, I realize it's been two years since I wrote on here. I have also come to realize that your mid-to-late 20's suck just as bad as your early 20's. I also realize that if I could have a do-over in life I have no fucking idea whatsoever what I would do over (except my degree - that would be a for sure do-over. All English Literature majors out there, RECONSIDER. For the love of God and your future paycheque and happiness, PLEASE RECONSIDER).

So let's see, what should we start with first? Let's try marriage. Ok, so for like 75% of the time, it's just life, you know? We enjoy each other's company, we're both loners and we've learned to enjoy the same TV shows. So that's pretty much it - we get up in the morning, joke around, chitchat at lunch, make dinner together in the evening and watch "The Office." And it's good. It's not fireworks, it's not drama, it's just the ho-hum monotony of life. Then there's the 10% of the time when it's amazing and he makes me swoon doing something as simple as making me a wax pink rose at work or making me laugh to the point of drooling or you know, in the bedroom, ahem, FOUR TIMES! And then there's the other 10% when you hate the person, you want to leave but first you want to destroy them. Seriously, it is in the moments that if you were a lawyer you'd be drafting up your own divorce papers. And then there is the remaining 5% where it's like BLAH. Blah is the worst because you don't simply hate the person, you're blah to them. But worse than that, you're so disappointed you married them. And you wonder how you'll make it through the next 50 years of your life. Guess what 5% I'm enjoying right now?

As for kids, fuck me. I feel like I'm on a see-saw and depending on my hormone status at any given time in the month, I desperately want a baby or desperately want to remain childless for the rest of my life. About 3 weeks ago we decided to have a baby. Then with the whole job thing we decided to hold off on the baby. But now I'm like, what the fuck, if I want a baby, I should just go ahead and have a baby, bloody jobless situation be damned! And yet I'm too chicken to actually go through with having a baby right now. Clearly I am unfit to be a parent.

As for the job firing, it is still so fresh in my mind and still so bloody-ass painful, I don't even know what to write. I've spent the last 10 days reassuring people that I'm fine, relieved actually, it was such a toxic environment there! And he was such a fucking prick of a boss! But the truth of the matter is that yeah, while I was definitely unhappy in the job, I worked hard at it. I did a good, no wait, a GREAT job at my job. Hell, I got him fucking re-elected! AND THE DOUCHEBAG FIRES ME? And I have to fucking BEG FOR HOLIDAY PAY? AND MY FUCKING HUSBAND CAN'T GIVE ME ANY FUCKING SYMPATHY WHEN I WAS FIRED 10 DAYS AGO??!!!

So as you can see I'm not quite over the job thing. And I don't really want to go into it here and now but it's like for 10 days I've been having to calm other people down and reassure everyone I'm fine, yet I'm too terrified to actually explain how I feel because they'll either go burn down my ex-boss' house (father-in-law), get exasperated by emotional state (husband & father) or tell me that it's my duty according to God to take this evil man to court (mother). But what I really want is to just cry and moan and have a pity party with myself for a few hours and have people (SUCH AS MY HUSBAND) simply pat my head and say there, there, he's an evil man and God will punish him swiftly.

What? I know, I know, but it's hard to stop believing in fairy-tales, no matter how old you are.

As for the house, it's done, it's renovated. We even did the basement this spring. And yet apparently because Adam renovated the basement with his own hands, he never has to do any house work again. Ever. So even though it's been almost two months since the basement was completed, I have this shoved into my face over and over again whenever he is asked to do anything ("Hon, will you sweep the garage." "Basement." "Ok, but you should really spray down the siding." "BASEMENT." By the way, are you depressed yet? Are you starting to think that the ring on your finger isn't really worth this whole miserable marriage thing? Just checking).

So now we're at family. Family. FAMILY! Family is good, family is bad, family is frustrating. There's been cabin drama this summer. And apparently I'm still not fucking grateful enough. Because did you know that by giving birth to you, you owe your parents your life? And this isn't like a joke thing, it's serious, or at least it is in my family? I have to pay them back for my life with like MY LIFE. Or my life's worth of gratitude or something. AUGH.

Yeah, I probably shouldn't have written tonight. I'm glum. And melodramatic. But I just thought life would start making sense. And it doesn't. It doesn't make sense and it doesn't get any easier. I thought I would find a career I love. Instead all I've found out is that I don't love anything. I'm not passionate about anything. I'm not good at anything. And that is fucking depressing. I also thought marriage would get easier. Nope, it does not. Maybe you get a bit numb to the pain as time marches on. But you know what the worst of it is? That man who is my husband. Who I am supposed to spend the rest of my life with. Who I'm supposed to bear children for. Who is supposed to be my damn best friend. Since before we were engaged, probably since we were in the height of our "in loveness", not since that time has he ever took my face in his hands, BOTH hands, looked me in the eye and said in all seriousness I love you. Or actually anything romantic at all. He used to do this all the time back when we were hot and heavy. Fuck, if I had known I was going to use up all his mushiness and tenderness in our first year together, I doubt I would have been able to go through with this. I mean, what kind of husband can't say "I love you" in a serious, tender way?

So let me spell this out for you. 27 sucks. 26 sucked. 25 sucked. 24 was horrible. So basically 23 was my only good year out of 20's. And who said turning 30 was a terrible thing?