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Thursday, August 25, 2005


If there's a book you really want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it. ~Toni Morrison

I’m feeling lukewarm. Not quite blah, but not exactly the most ecstatic person in the world. Everything has become hum drum, and yet I feel like there is more excitement in the horizon. I’m going to have to wait it out a bit I suppose. I abhor waiting.

I could call it pergatory, actually from now on I will call it pergatory. Everything is fine and perfect and yet imperfect at the same time. It’s all part of this learning curve that I’ve been on for 17 years; and I can’t seem to escape it. It’s a place where I’m caught between holding on to a childhood I never really wanted and springing into being a full on adult who can make her own decisions. I still ask my parents for permission and I still think that when I do something wrong I’m going to get yelled at.

The things I worry about are unfounded and ludircous. I’ve become this neurotic person, that worries herself to death and then feels it imperative to write about how truly neurotic I am. It’s this cycle that I apparently won’t let myslef escape. So what happens is, I begin to sensor things about myself in talking, writing wherever, out of fear.

I love the quote above from Toni Morrison. I really want to read a book about what you go through during pergatory. The time between letting go and holding on. I suppose I should be thankful that I had an epiphany to write about what happens right when you enter life after college. And yet I wish that someone else had before me.

I hear stories about it all the time. During my six week unemployment, my mother kept telling me how she was forced to live with my aunt for three months until she was able to find employment. She can say now-almost 30 years later-that it ended well for her.

But I want to know what happened to other people. Does everyone become successful? Probably not. Does everyone who goes through this phase get what they want out of life? Did the years of education pay off?

The point is that I need to stop censoring myself and to just do the things I want to do, write about the things that I want to write about and stop being so damn neurotic.

But I’ll keep asking myself; how will it end?


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