It’s how I feel. I should have been graduating with my master’s this year. In reality, that wouldn’t have happened cause I didn’t have enough Arabic under my belt and it would’ve taken 4, but most people get those done in 2 years. I should have graduated, should have gotten a kick ass job. Instead, I play games on my computer when I’m not at work and not playing ukulele. Instead, I research and read medical shit like my malfunctioning brain will find a cure that experts have missed, hoping against all odds that I’ll magically find a cure for all this shit that is arthritis.
If I was okay with all this, it’d sound a lot like a John Lennon song. I thought I was okay with it, I really did. I mean, I just tried out to be on Jeopardy. Clearly I’m smart… but I feel like I’m not using my smartness and it’s starting to fade away, never to be heard from in short bursts again. It’s been like this since I came back from Chicago. Yay, I can recite meaningless trivia. But what am I actually doing?
Other people my age (and younger, oh heavens) are well on their way to career-dom, to further schooling, to a big house with a 2-car garage, 2.5 kids, a pool and a dog. And I… I’m just sitting here half-assedly watching a baseball game and commenting on the newly changed facial hair of one of my favorite players. Is this how it’s going to be forever? Am I going to feel like I do nothing ad infinitum? If so, shouldn’t I be happy with that? I’ve pushed and pushed myself so hard for so long, shouldn’t I feel like I need a break? Like I deserve one? Should I be like Ron Livingston in Office Space and just not give a fuck anymore?
I just dunno.
I know I do things. Clearly, I do things. Every weekend this month has been full of doing things, of WAAD and Chicago, of walking for arthritis and hitting up the Enbrel pusher, of vomiting from migraines and seeing friends. I pre-write blog posts and don’t post them. I should be raising more money, raising more awareness, doing something more meaningful and helpful for the population at large.
In happier news, I went running twice this weekend. The bursts didn’t last long, but I did it. I ran. And I didn’t feel like death afterwards. Yesterday I ran for over a minute straight and could have kept going if it were not for my damn chubby thighs meeting each other unpleasantly. Maybe working out more can make its way into my busy schedule of the House MD game on facebook and ukulele chords. Maybe then I can feel a little more like I’m doing something.
I probably won’t though. Sigh.
Someone, anyone – light a fire under my ass and get me going?