Quarter-life crisis?

At twenty-two-years-old, I think I am experiencing a quarter-life crisis. I feel like everyone is doing better than me and after changing my major three times, I still don't know what I want to do with my life. Then again, someone told me it sounds like I am trying to find the meaning of life. There is no definite meaning to life in a broad sense. It's different for everyone. I'm just trying to find my own calling. Although there are over six billion people on earth, we are all insignificant creatures. If we are so insignificant, doesn't it make sense for us to each pursue our own hopes and dreams? I think each human being is entitled to do so.

Just before beginning this entry, I let out a big sigh.

I am so frustrated with the world right now. It seems so chaotic and downright depressing. I wonder if it has always been this way and we are just becoming more aware of the negatives. Or perhaps it is getting worse, a message repeatedly conveyed by the media. Either way, us Americans, who are used to being spoiled rotten, are hurting. I feel selfish complaining about my problems, but please just bear with me. The optimism in my last entry has gone missing. Can somebody please find it for me? I feel like I am in rat race when it comes to the job market - countless throngs of hungry people all aiming to get the same job and accompanying paycheck. I have been relentlessly searching for a job to replace one of the two I have now. Not many places seem to be hiring for the positions I am actually qualified for. When I do apply for one, I either do not get a response or I receive a brief template rejection explaining that my resume has many good qualities, but I am just not what they are looking for. At least the Ritz-Carlton sent me a letter via snailmail - neatly typed on fancy blue stationary. I am almost tempted to apply for any job as long as it pays more than what I am making now. School starts soon and a tuition awaits me. I refuse to get a loan unless I absolutely have to, which is why I am working two jobs this summer. Debt seems to be the source of many people's problems these days. Not everyone can get a scholarship or have well-off parents willing to dole out thousands of dollars each semester. Instead of life-long dreams, are all that is awaiting today's youth a future full of bills, night school, multiple jobs, and debts that seem to grow instead of decrease each payment? The carefully laid out four year plan turns into a ten year plan. It may or may not produce a diploma and an educated citizen ready to contribute something important to this world. Many will probably say to heck with it and settle for part-time "college student" jobs that turned into full-time careers because at the end of the day, it's good enough.

I am probably one of those on the ten year plan. Have you ever felt like the kid in class that is behind everyone because they're struggling for one reason or another? That's me. I feel awful because I should have graduated college this year like the rest of my high school senior class of '04. Meanwhile, I am still stuck in community college (which refuses to be called a "community" college when it really is one) in hopes of transferring to a university. What frustrates me the most is that the place I am in right now does not feel good enough for me. I want to get my bachelor's degree while I'm still in my twenties and be able to travel before I am eligible for a senior's discount. With tuition and the cost of everything else going up, it all seems just out of my reach while I am struggling to save money for my education.

I am trying to be optimistic. I am. It's just hard to stay positive when that optimism is constantly tested. Hopefully, I am not alone.

Opening a Time Capsule

One of my friends from work recently started writing on Blogger. I completely forgot about my own blog, which I let accumulate two years-worth of internet dust. After several attempts of trying to access my account and then running through the Google stuff, I finally unlocked a piece of my history.

When I read my friend's blog and then skimmed over my old entries, I realized how much I miss writing down my thoughts. For months, I have felt very alone in wandering throughout a vast and tangled collection of emotions. I even lost myself for a while. Of course, I confided in family and friends, but I have been yearning to pour my heart out to something that would not judge me, give me unwanted advice, or confuse me when, instead, I desperately needed a clear head. Tonight, I realized that what I really needed was to start writing again... immediately. I put it off for such a long time. Why did I wait so long?!

It would take several entries to recap in detail what has happened to me in the last two years, but what I can write now is that I grew up... a lot. Back in 2006, I last wrote about my excitement in going to Europe again. There, I saw places I had only been able to imagine before. I explored Prague and thought I stepped into a fairy tale. I flip-flopped from rustic Buda to cosmopolitan Pest and back again before taking a romantic night cruise between them on the Danube River. My last trip that summer took me to war-torn Croatia, a mountainous and rocky country still rough around the edges from an old war that seems all-too recent. Was 2007 somewhere in the last two years? I cannot seem to remember much of it. I did press on as a bookseller like an engine running out of steam - burned out and struggling to move an inch farther. Even to this day, I still cannot detach myself from that place.

Ah, yes, now I remember what I did last year. Last summer, I visited Poland and fell in love for the first time. Let's put it this way: Girl meets boy, falls in love, goes back home, girl misses boy, gives up school for a semester and makes enough money for a second trip for the holidays. Girl has a wonderful time up until boy confesses he and girl's older cousin betrayed girl. Girl is devastated, but forgives boy. Girl goes home after ringing in 2008, comes to her senses, and dumps unworthy boy.

Needless to say, 2008 did not begin well, though it has improved by leaps and bounds. I learned many lessons in love and life. As I wrote above, I lost myself. I was blinded and utterly intoxicated by what I thought was love. When I did have a clear moment, an experience that feels like you just drank a glass of refreshing water, I did not know this person I became. Hopes and dreams that I spent a lifetime waiting for were about to disappear, all for a life with someone that was not worthy of me. After I released myself from this relationship, I became myself again and it feels GOOD. I have so much to look forward to. School is starting again in the fall. My first real love, journalism, has come back to me. Oh, and I am definitely going on another big trip next summer, maybe with some friends. It's going to be the best summer after this one.

I feel happy again because after a taking a slight (and rocky) detour, my life is heading in the right direction.

11 Days... and counting!

For those of you that have traveled on an airplane, you know when they call for the first class flyers to board first? I think by the time I get the airport, I will be so thrilled that I am imagining myself trampling the Louis Vuitton-toting passengers just so I can be the first to get on the plane.

I still dont have a clue as to what I will be doing in Poland for two months. Im not concerned about that just yet, but I am a little concerned about these last two weeks leading up to my departure. The months since I got my tickets flew by so quickly (at one point I was sitting at my desk and suddenly, it dawned on me that I didnt remember where I put my tickets), and now time seems to be slowing down. The 24th cannot get here fast enough! I have a ton of preparations to make beforehand, including getting a haircut. I made an appointment at a local salon that is supposed to be one of the top twenty in the country. For what I am paying and with their reputation in mind, it better be a fantastic hair-do especially since I am getting it the day before I leave. I can see it now: Im stepping into the reception area of the terminal and the first thing my cousin laughingly sputters to his fiancée is, What the hell happened to her hair? I really do not expect it to be bad at all, however.

I've been trying to write this blog without sounding obnoxious in expressing my true feelings towards my trip to Europe. My coworkers keep asking me about when I am going, if I am excited, blah, blah, blah. I tell them what I know what they want to hear: that I AM excited, I can't wait to see my relatives, more blah, blah, blah since I also know that bragging just pisses people off. I think I will throw caution into the wind this time and just say: I'M GOING TO EUUUUUUROPE AND YOOOOOOOUUUU ARE NOOOOOOT!!

I

... am counting 48 days to departure.

... want a new job.

... think drama queens suck.

... feel peaceful during the nighttime.

... should consider volunteering during my vacation in Europe.

... wish I remembered the name of my favorite Polish candy bar.

... need to think more positively.

As I prepare to settle down in front of the screen and type all of my thoughts, I feel like I have the words I want to use in order to express myself. Then when I finally have my fingers resting on top of the keys, I hesitate. When I do type something, I stop and wonder if what I just wrote was good enough. I know I am not writing journal entries to please other people. Of course, they’re for me, yet when it comes to typing my inner thoughts, feelings, and emotions, many of the words that come to my mind are simply not good enough.

When I think about traveling and the adventure I am to embark on this summer, I can feel an indescribable excitement surging through me. Really, in order to know what I feel like, you have to be me. I also feel impatience and apprehension. It is impatience because, well, I want my vacation today or tomorrow; apprehension, because of my expectations and hopes for what I want this summer to be. My brother thinks I am silly and immature because my priorities are not his priorities. He ridicules me because I have a passion for exploration and learning about foreign cultures. On the other hand, I spent most of my life sheltering myself, literally scared of life and not experiencing it to the extent many other children were able to reach. In a way, traveling is my way of breaking free, to venture into other worlds and experience something that is soley my experience and nobody else’s. As children, people are able to roam free and learn about the world, playing with their peers without a care in the world. I never played sports, joined any clubs, or took part in activities which most kids were involved. I was most likely that little girl you saw at Disneyland hysterically wailing at the sight of Mickey Mouse or Goofy. Heck, I never got my picture taken with Santa Clause until I was thirteen-years-old. So while I am still young and free of many responsibilities, why shouldn’t I be able to enjoy what I love doing most? There is more to life than slaving through college and delving into a career that ties you down. I am sure that humans were not meant to spend eight hours every day in an office. Sure, I am using a cliché, but isn’t it true that many people spend their lives stuck in a job they absolutely detest while hoping that something better comes along?

Don’t throw me off of the Zeppelin yet. If I’ve predicted the total of my next paycheck correctly, I should be able to buy my ticket to Europe tomorrow. Then, of course, I’ll be broke for a week until next Friday.

I would have had the money last week, but since I overdrew my checking account by forty dollars due to miscommunication, Bank of America decided to rip me off and charge me a $30 fee – five times. I got them to reverse two of them. I had to ask a manager to reverse the other three, though she refused because they refunded the first $60 as a “courtesy”. So I overdrew my account because I thought I had money on it. I made a mistake, and I admit that. Everyone makes mistakes, so why can’t they make an exception this one time? I would have understood if they refused after I did it multiple times and took advantage of leniency. From this entire episode, however, I have learned three lessons: one, Bank of America’s customer service sucks; two, use overdraft protection; and three, switch to another bank.

Anyway, I’m sitting here on the couch watching CNN recapping the Grammy Awards, and I would like to pose one of a few questions: Why the hell does Paul McCartney still have a music career? He’s an old grandfather with a waning voice and a following that is based on the fact that he is only one of two Beatles still alive. I know the Beatles “revolutionized” music, blah, blah, blah, blah, but I simply do not understand why Paul is acclaimed as a gifted solo artist.

Aside from the Beatles, The Rolling Stones is probably another band that is overrated. I was not able to tune into the Super Bowl (nor would I have wanted to), but judging from the clips and news coverage, the Stones’ performance was horrible. I think it’s about time that they each retired to their own English mansions and spare the world of sixty-year-old rockers with wrinkles bigger than their talent. Has anyone seen what Keith Richards looks like? I have the urge to inject him with a few thousand cc’s of botox myself. There are cancer survivors who have gone through intensive chemotherapy that look better than this guy.

Okay, so I’m brutal and there are probably people out there that claim my taste in music is questionable. I do like techno, world, and new age among other genres. My reasons for not liking the above mentioned bands are most likely the same reason why people don’t like what I like. I’m all open for criticism.

A New Home

I am moving again, and after packing just one box of books, I look at the rest of my room full of crap to realize how much I hate moving. I was lucky last time because my parents moved from Montana to Nevada while I was still in Poland. Being on the other side of the world is an awesome excuse, isn't it?

In fact, I have moved at least five times in twenty years while most people spend most of their childhood and adolescence in the same house. On average, that's every four years that I have moved. I know I should not complain because I am sure there are families out there that have to relocate every few months, but five times to pack up your life and move is still hard. It's not because of the emotional attachment. It's the packing, loading, and unpacking that is a pain in the ass. I can't believe I have accumulated this much stuff, and I am not the kind of person who holds on to things unless it's really sentimental or I still need it. I should probably go through my things again, though I am nowhere near as bad as some people

Yesterday, I helped my mom bag clothes she intends on giving to Goodwill. The result was a mountain of seven trash bags full of apparel that could probably clothe all of Africa. Her closet was noticeably more organized; on the other hand, she still had twice as many clothes as me. My philosophy is that if I have forgotten about it and don't miss it, it might as well go in the "give away" pile.

I may have lied a little about the emotional attachment part. When I was fifteen, my parents, brother, and I moved to Montana from California. I missed California purely because of the fact that everything was so familiar and it was the only place where I grew up. It was also the first time I lived so far away from both of my sisters.

Suddenly, life thrust me into a place that had completely different people, surroundings, weather, and lifestyle. Looking back on it, I don't miss much about Montana aside from my best friend (who still lives there). It's been only a year and a half and I've forgotten most of my classmates. I absolutely did not fit in because a lot of people in my class grew up with each other.Together, they experienced those times that make life memorable - the first day of school, the first night away from home, the first point in their lives where the opposite sex was not a source of cooties. I am sure I was not the only one to be the outsider, though it certainly felt like I was alone. The exceptional few people, however, I probably will not forget because they were the only ones that ever bothered to be friendly with "that snob from California".

Being negative never amounted to anything. But I'm admitting my hypocrisy in saying that I am dreading this move. I just want the packing/unpacking done already so we can all settle in to accustom ourselves to the new house.

Maybe I should get rid of everything and buy new stuff. Ah, only in a perfect world.

My Favorite Poem

"The Highwayman"

by Alfred Noyes

The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding--
Riding--riding--
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.

He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead, and a bunch of lace at his chin;
He'd a coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of fine doe-skin.
They fitted with never a wrinkle; his boots were up to his thigh!
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle--
His rapier hilt a-twinkle--
His pistol butts a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred,
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter--
Bess, the landlord's daughter--
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

Dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim, the ostler listened--his face was white and peaked--
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter--
The landlord's black-eyed daughter;
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say:

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart; I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light.
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

He stood upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair in the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the sweet black waves of perfume came tumbling o'er his breast,
Then he kissed its waves in the moonlight
(O sweet black waves in the moonlight!),
And he tugged at his reins in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.

He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon.
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon over the purple moor,
The redcoat troops came marching--
Marching--marching--
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord; they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed.
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets by their side;
There was Death at every window,
And Hell at one dark window,
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.

They had bound her up at attention, with many a sniggering jest!
They had tied a rifle beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say,
"Look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though Hell should bar the way."

She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness,
and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it, she strove no more for the rest;
Up, she stood up at attention, with the barrel beneath her breast.
She would not risk their hearing, she would not strive again,
For the road lay bare in the moonlight,
Blank and bare in the moonlight,
And the blood in her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love's refrain.

Tlot tlot, tlot tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hooves, ringing clear;
Tlot tlot, tlot tlot, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding--
Riding--riding--
The redcoats looked to their priming! She stood up straight and still.

Tlot tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment, she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight--
Her musket shattered the moonlight--
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him--with her death.

He turned, he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the casement, drenched in her own red blood!
Not till the dawn did he hear it, and his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs in the golden noon, wine-red was his velvet coat
When they shot him down in the highway,
Down like a dog in the highway,
And he lay in his blood in the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.

And still on a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a gypsy's ribbon looping the purple moor,
The highwayman comes riding--
Riding--riding--
The highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred,
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter--
Bess, the landlord's daughter--
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

Today was yet another busy day at work. People were rude, everyone was overloaded with projects that had to be done, and we were short two booksellers. I'd have to say that this past week alone has been more difficult than the weeks before Christmas. Don't people have jobs and schools to go to instead of pestering us retail people?

I finally have tomorrow and Thursday off to sit on my ass and do absolutely nothing. I earned it, considering that I work my ass off for a job that does not pay me enough to work that hard. If I manage to get dressed, I'll probably go to the movies or use one of my gift cards at the mall. Maybe if I'm ambitious enough, I'll go pay for my classes tomorrow instead of Thursday.

*Sigh*

I can't wait for summer to come.