Dinner was chocolate-covered pretzels

Sometimes I look at my life now and regret how judgmental I was back in high school.

This is not to say I'm not happy with where I am.  I like my apartment, I like my job, I like the city I live in, and I like my friends.
(I probably should have put the "friends" part first, but, well, you know...)

Do I, at twenty-three, have the rock star glamorous career I thought I would?  No.  Do I get my Saturdays to myself to do as I please?  Not quite.  Do I still have to deal with customers even though I've sworn off customer service-based jobs multiple times in the last several years?  Yes.  Yes I do.

I'm happy - I am.  But I'm prone to worrying that the dreams I've had won't be the life I'll live.

I write when I can, but I work a lot.  I'm a naturally lazy person that has only recently been forced to shed that character trait, which makes it harder to push myself when I'm tired after a long day at the dealership.
For today, I'm not so worried my life won't work out like it's supposed to.  Maybe it shouldn't.  And maybe it's up to me to decide, through hard work and smart decisions, if I get to where I've always wanted to be.  Or maybe what I wanted isn't still what I want, and I have to consider other options.

No, today I'm more preoccupied with my lifestyle.  I'll catch myself mopping my kitchen floor and think, "well gosh darn.  I really am a grown-up."  On my next day off, it'll be 1 PM, and I'll still be in my pajamas.


I'm tired all the time.

I shouldn't be.  I get eight hours of sleep.  I drink coffee.  I've started working out again.  I try to be healthy.  I'm twenty-three.  I enjoy my work.  I don't hate everything and everyone.

Maybe fatigue is a state of being?  Maybe it's mind over matter?  Maybe if I tell myself I'm not tired, then I won't feel tired and I can go out and live a life outside of work?

Maybe it's the motion.  Maybe if I force myself to do things outside of work, I'll need to constantly do things outside of work.  It'll be a self-perpetuating cycle, and I'll be more and more and more productive and less and less constantly tired.

It's 1 PM on a Wednesday and I'm still in my pajamas.  That example I mentioned above?  I'm living it right now.


There are nights when I think to myself, "man, I really am a grown-up."  Those nights consist of falling asleep on the couch at 9:45 PM and calculating how many minutes stand between me and bedtime (two minutes to brush my teeth, two minutes to wash my face, thirty seconds to climb the stairs...).  I know this is grown-up behavior because this is also a typical Saturday night for my mother.  And my grandmother.  And they're, like, super grown-up.
This was my Saturday night.

There are nights when I think to myself, "I'm still twenty-three, I need to have fun."  Those nights consist of going out with friends, getting drunk, making out with some guy who later texts me to hang out - only to find I've passed out on my friend's couch before I get the chance to respond.
That may or may not have been my Sunday night.

There are nights where, after having gone out the night before and worked all day, I'm too tired to make food and too lazy to go out and find it, so I decide to have the rest of my chocolate-covered pretzels for dinner.  At 8:45 PM I jolt myself awake on the couch, realize I'm missing out on some serious Arrested plot Development in the recently-released season, and go upstairs to go to bed.  In the bathroom mirror I see there's brown stuff on my shirt and my arm - melted chocolate from the pretzels.
"Huh," I say to myself before I climb into bed and pass out.
Those nights remind me that a) twenty-three is still a dumb age and b) I actually might just be a gross person.
I'm not outright admitting this was my Monday night, but there's probably a reason I'm writing this.

Then there are the nights where I drive straight from work to the gym to get some exercise in, take a shower, and go to bed at a reasonable hour so I can skype with a friend of mine at 7 AM the next morning - on my day off.
"Man," I say to myself.  "I really have my life together.  Good for me.  Good.  For.  Me."
(Until I curl up in a ball on the floor of my room because the leftover chili burger in the fridge was, apparently, not the best thing to eat right before working out.)
This was my Tuesday night.  Last night.

I guess... there are going to be times where I feel like I haven't changed or grown since college.  And there are going to be times where I'll find that I have - out of necessity, I've matured here and there.  Like, I wear mascara to work now.

That's pretty grown-up of me, I think.

I'm going to change out of my Spongebob Square PajamaPants now.