1) Didn’t eat anything all day, ate upon leaving work, got very sick, wound up passing out for a few hours from the pain, still feeling sick. Verdict? I think I got some mild food poisoning. Has not happened since the great Taco Bell burrito poisoning incident of ‘03. All the same feelings/side effects though. I can barely stand up. But I’m Tumbling so.
2) Lots of strange dreams lately. One a few days ago where I pulling huge pieces of plastic out from my skin and kept digging in under my skin and bleeding everywhere. I’ve heard about that kind of dream before but never had it. Apparently it’s a reference to when you need to delegate responsibility and have pressure bearing down on you.
3) It was cooler today for the second day in a row and tomorrow it’s supposed to be blazing hot. I am doomed to never enjoy a PSL.
4) Feeling restless and stressed so much lately. Work has been overwhelming. There’s so much more I want to say about that but can’t. I’m having trouble sleeping at night. My daily routine is becoming too predictable. I want to move again. And I haven’t seen any of my friends in weeks because everyone is too busy with their own lives or focusing on weddings. I feel like I’m stagnating, but I think that where I am is the in-between to good things too - the part where your hard work will all pay off in spades soon. It’s the hump of the working life that just doesn’t get discussed because it takes time and we are impatient people who want instant glorification but it’s there and this feels like it.
I got sucked into this article in The Atlantic a few weeks ago and felt the need to put it here to share it, To Make America Great Again, We Need to Leave the Country.
Initially I didn’t want to read it because the title and brief, brief excerpt made it look like a piece with Thought Catalog placed values - pack up all of your shit and leave all of these problems in America behind for someone else to deal with. But it’s not like that, not at all. The writer of the piece is Elliot Gerson, a former Rhodes scholar. He thoughtfully implores the reader to travel as a means to opening their eyes to what other countries do great and to take said country’s actions and implement them into our own country to fix what desperately needs fixing.
Most people, Gerson points out, consider the idea of going overseas and utilizing great ideas that work there as unpatriotic to America. Not travelling to other countries forces our country to start closing in on itself as well - which is extremely alarming to me to hear. Mostly because it mirrors the crap that roams inside of my head. Last year when I tried (but came up 20,000 words short) to enter NaNoWriMo’s 50,000 word November writing contest, I wrote a futuristic dystopian story about America set in 2098. It was a strange tale. Most of my inspiration came from various news stories I had read throughout the year. I renamed the country N.U.S. (“New United States”) and wrote up a new law process that involved a city-state government as the highest form of power. Marriage laws, the caste system, money, technology, family units, and recreational drug use were all turned on their ear to spawn a compliant class of people who never craved their freedom as much as they wanted to simply go along for the ride and not anger another person or be thrown out of their cushioned world into one that would force them to work, truly work, until they either collapsed from it or embraced the labor and took the hands on work to create a new life with. (There’s an advertising campaign in the story that revolves around the phrase “Be Kind!” which was something someone I used to know and did not like used to tweet as a hashtag. Constantly.)
I reread that document last night and it was just as chilling the first time around writing it because you have to be in a dark place in order to think some of those thoughts. Or just in a quietly contemplative place. Or both at times. But I still liked it. I liked the ideas that were the foundation for the piece. I liked that I was still able to close my eyes and fall straight back into the protagonist’s shoes. And most interestingly enough, I liked that at the time I had been writing it, I was in a very happy place in my real life sans the Word doc and yet could write something that was very far from where I was once more.
Sometimes I wonder what I could have written had I not lived in the United States my entire life. The biggest insecurity I have is that I haven’t been overseas yet. I wish I had been able to go study abroad in college, but I did not have the time for it. I transferred into my university as a junior and the four remaining semesters that separated me from my graduation were filled with internships and work and classes, all of which required me to stay put. Telecommuting during an internship wasn’t really taking off at that time either. The only way I could have studied abroad would have been to enroll in one semester of college and my student loan could not have had that excursion piled on to its already large load. Had I been able to do it, I know for a fact that my life right now would be different. I would have experienced a different way of thinking and leading my life. I’m bad enough with forming sicko attachments to cities as it is and I know for a fact that post-abroad I would have come back and felt a rising upset with where I lived and not have liked it anymore. Had I studied abroad I would have probably met some wonderful people along the way, the kind that are so wonderful that the memory of them makes you cry into your pillow at night because at a certain point, they and everything you did just turns into memories from a time that is well past you.
Everyone always asks me whenever I tell them how badly I want to go overseas, well what’s stopping ya?
Fucking everything! is all I want to be able to shout back until I’m hoarse and can’t breathe.
Everything is stopping me and at the same time nothing is. I can’t uproot my entire life right now because it is so carefully constricted and bound and tied to a series of commitments.
I have my job. My job keeps me in one place. My job which I love so much but don’t want to hold me so tightly and still in what has got to be the world’s most gated, bubbled community in the country.
I have my apartment. It’s beautiful and I love it so hard, love where it’s located and how I can walk in the neighborhood at any hour of the day and still feel safe (you’ve got no idea how rare that is until you live it). But I can’t fold it up and take it with me wherever I go like it’s a dollhouse and knowing that one day I will not be living there is inevitable but quite painful.
I have my debt. It’s all a process of payments, one right after another, and they never stop coming. Sallie Mae is a spiteful bitch and my credit card bills are growing smaller, then rising, then shrinking, but would be back to rising if I moved somewhere else, at least for a short time there. I pay for everything I own myself. If I fell, I would have to catch me. Certainly makes for an uplifting tale of independence in this economy but it’s mentally draining.
I have the stupid fear that I wouldn’t get dual citizenship or even a basic citizenship there. This is the kind of fear that makes everything else - the relationships you have, the people you encounter, the failure and the success you may achieve or not - absolutely diminish in comparison.
Everything is stopping me and at the same time nothing is.
Thoughts from a pre-quarterlife place,