I finally felt compelled to blog after ages because I felt I had something to say. No more blog posts about unemployment, thank you very much. Instead we’ll get back to the topic at hand: my adventures of a quarter-life crisis.
After much couch-surfing I landed on my feet and spent 6 months at a group home with my wonderful roomies who believed in everything organic: food, religion, sex. In other words, they were my first hippie friends. I acquired a taste for veggies like kale and quinoa, exercised 6 days a week, worshipped nature and all things beautiful (including myself), enjoyed listening to bluegrass while cooking, and NPR’s "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" on Saturday mornings, and finally started thinking like a guy i.e. I could have fun with no strings attached (it's another story I never executed that thought although I did get asked out by a 60-year-old man and I actually thought about that for good half a second). Then I moved into my own apt. in August and started the whole business of setting up a place again. I had cable again after nearly a year - small victories.
But it truly was an exuberant time and I was on a constant high. At first I thought it was all those workouts and healthy eating or the amazing weather or something equally crazy. It was neither. I was just happy being me. I didn't give a hoot about pleasing people or trying to attract anyone. When a friend told me: "There's no excuse not to look good. Why shouldn't you look fabulous for yourself?" I had to agree. Lipstick, a nice pair of earrings and a great pair of shoes do amazing things for the soul. But no more crazy dates, please. Call it a sign of old age stubborness but I just don't need to put myself through that torture!
But this year a lot of friends around me got attached, married, became fertile or gave birth. Happiness can be terribly infectious. But not everything was a bed of roses. Shit happened to me and around me. As I approach my mid-30s, I don't want to take stock yet again of a) here's my success and compare it to b) here's my failure. My journey has been uniquely my journey. The only difference is that now there is this calm, settling notion in my head and it's not such a bad sound. I can stop running at last... but I can still keep walking, at least.
