Tomorrow, Tomorrow... I'll write ya tomorrow.

One blog post down and I had already admitted defeat.  It’s not that I didn’t want to write or didn’t have a million ideas going through the hamster wheel I call my brain.  I had topics prepared, witty headlines dancing in my head and plenty of topics I wanted to discuss—but I didn’t.  Two months after my first blog post and I had bupkis (nothing for all you not familiar with Yiddish).  And my excuses for not writing we’re pathetic at best.  I had a mindless job where I was surrounded by people who liked to exert the least amount of effort possible while holding steady at a middle manager level.  I was easily able to get my work done by noon and have the rest of the day to blog my heart out.  I wasn’t very ‘active’ after work either.  In an attempt to save money, I cancelled my gym pass and have been immobile since.  I usually spent my evenings on my couch after cooking a quick meal watching hours and hours of television; I considered my tv schedule a second job of sorts.  So I really had NO excuse not to blog.  So why hadn’t I?  I have always said that writing is one of my passions and what a better way to express that in my very own blog.  I could say what I want, when I wanted and best of all it’s free therapy!  I think the reason I haven’t is because I’m scared of putting my words and feelings out there in a public forum.  Even though I am the only one reading this blog, it’s scary to put it out there in the universe.  And as a perfectionist I don’t want just any run of the mill blog, I want a great blog.  My fear of failing stopped me from doing what I love.  I really hope this insecurity stuff is a twenties thing because I don’t know how much longer I can handle it.  All I can do now is start fresh.  Start writing. Start blogging. Start Being.  Instead of worrying about failing or worrying about the direction my life is heading or worrying about worrying, I’m just going to start writing and follow through with it.  That’s all I can do for today.

This is NOT what I signed up for.

Maybe I was naïve.  Maybe I was overly hopeful.  Maybe I watched too many coming of age comedies and sitcoms.  Maybe I spent too many hours daydreaming in class when I should’ve been listening.  Maybe it was a combination of all these things.  Whatever it was, being twenty something is not what I thought or envisioned it would be.  Let me peel back the lid on my visions of grandeur that I had prior to graduating college when I was merely a carefree, sleep when I’m dead, go to class when it’s necessary, intern for free until I reach my credit card(s) limit, make out with anyone and everyone with a pulse and check my facebook incessantly like it was my livelihood kind of gal.  I had illusions of graduating from college with my in demand communications degree from a small Jesuit liberal arts school and having my pick of six figure salary jobs.  I thought I would have to fight employers off with a proverbial stick because everyone would want little ole’ me as an employee.  I dreamed of working 9-5 in a great office with quirky caricatured coworkers like you see on TV.  I thought my dream job would be the perfect accessory to my amazing social life filled with happy hours, expensive dinners and weekend getaways.  Basically, I thought my post college life would be an episode of The Hills but with an actual job and less Spencer Pratt.  Well then the recession hit and I decided to lower the bar…just a little.  Okay, so I might not get a six figure salary at an entry level job and I might have to do more happy hours than expensive dinners but post college life will still be fabulous and everything I hoped for and more.

Well, look at me now.  Spoiler alert: It’s not everything I hoped for and more.  It’s a lot more frugal than fabulous and a hell of a lot more complicated than I thought.  I’m living paycheck to paycheck at a job that was certainly not my “dream”, dating a guy I certainly didn’t think I’d be dating at this point, eating exclusively at happy hours and drive thru’s,  and living in an apartment with my two best friends.  No, it’s not a terrible life and yes, it’s certainly not what I envisioned but it is what it is—for now.  Everyone (the voices in my head) told me my twenties were going to be a magical time filled with interesting jobs, liaisons with handsome men, world travel and bountiful options but I guess they were wrong.  It’s much more complex than that and I’m just along for the ride. 

Welcome to…What.The.Twenties.