The Nice People Ripped Up My Gum Line

So I was flossing on Monday, as I try to do at least 3 times a week, cuz I’m a slacker but care about my dental health, and I pulled the floss out and my filling came with it.

I was scared in that moment, because the last time I had been to the dentist was when my wisdom tooth broke in half and they smashed all my wisdom teeth out of my head under local anesthetic: a process I do not recommend to anyone. (SERIOUSLY get knocked out for Wisdom Teeth Removal) I looked it up and I wrote about this experience already: you can read about the worst day of my life here. I’m sure that at least one person thinks that I was way over dramatic about it, but it really was the worst thing I’ve ever gone through. So, that day had ruined the dentist for me, and I hadn’t been in since December of 2014…

So after a tearful phone call to my mom to let her know I’d need to take time from work to go get it fixed, I took a codeine and went to bed. The tooth didn’t hurt or anything, I just was incapable of calming down because I was fucking scared of the dentist. I made an appointment the next day, anyway. I did decide I was not going back to the facility that repeatedly told me, “there’s no way you can feel anything” and during my wisdom teeth removal to, “stop crying.” I made an appointment with a facility by work.

I was scared to go in, obviously. I’d never been scared of the dentist before having my wisdom teeth out, and while I know that there’s no possible way they could grow back for the dentist to remove again, that didn’t calm my fears of being tortured at the hands of an unfeeling, mean-spirited dentist. I tried to stay calm, though…

My dentist was actually really nice. Since I was a new patient, before they took me back she just sat and asked me a few questions. There were medical questions, and then she asked the last time I’d been to the dentist. I considered lying… but why lie? I had ACTUAL PSTD about the dentists. Dentists know that their patients dread seeing them, as a result of that they have one of the highest suicide rates for a career. (You can google that if you don’t believe me… I’m not linking a sad article about the top suicide rates of careers, though.) The dentist just went, “Oh! You had a bad experience. Okay, we’ll make a note of that.

She noted that, and then proceeded to be the nicest dentist I’ve ever met.

She explained everything she was going to do in detail (cuz I’ve never gotten a cap before), and when we determined that I’d need a cap, she set to work numbing me up before she even did the exam. Fortunately, even thought I hadn’t been to the dentist in 2 years, there were no additional cavities, and the only unpleasant part of the exam was scraping off the tartar behind my lower front teeth.

That’s not to say there wasn’t pain, however. No, there was a lot of pain, as they had to grind down my tooth to be able to fit in the cap. So they gave me another shot… still hurt. So they gave me a third…. still hurt… And another, but it still hurt. Eventually, they just tried to do it as quickly as possible, because four shots of anesthetic is quite a lot and it was doing nothing. I did my best not to move or flinch or show signs of pain, but I couldn’t push my head back into the chair hard enough, and my body would tremble, and my eyes leaked. I didn’t bawl, like I did with my wisdom teeth, but I was crying. The dental tech felt bad and wiped away my tears while she set the cap.

I apologized a lot, but they just explained that I was hard to numb up. It happens, especially with people who are nervous. So, they made a note in my chart that next time they’d start with gas, to relax me, and that should help the needle sticks be more effective. No one was mad, just frustrated they didn’t manage to get me numb enough.

The tech set my temporary cap and warned me that it might fall off because they couldn’t control my bleeding… and I believe that, because they FUCKED UP my gum line. My mouth hurts a ton today, and my gum line around the tooth is incredibly raw, but the cap hasn’t popped off. I get my permanent cap in a couple of weeks. I accidentally booked myself for my vacation… but I guess that’s okay, really. Maybe not… I might reschedule.

Everyone was really nice to me, though, and while it definitely wasn’t a GOOD day, I’m not scared to go back to them. Which means I can get regular cleanings again, so that’s exciting.

Anyways… Kindness goes a long way. It makes a difference.

Losing Hope

I’ve found that people in my mother’s generation, the Boomers, can’t usually remember the first presidential election they participated in. I find that interesting, since the people I’m most often in political arguments with are Boomers. I have inferred from these two things that 1, Boomers weren’t terribly political people until they got older, and 2, that Boomers, above all else, are characterized by a desire to talk.

I did the math, and my mother turned eighteen just a month before the Nixon v. McGovern election. I know that she voted for McGovern. I know this because her father was a Democrat, and therefore she registered as a Democrat.

When I first learned this, I thought it was terrible. I couldn’t imagine voting for someone just because my mom did. I have thoughts, values, and opinions that are dramatically different from my mother, so often our political opinions are quite different. It took a while for me to think about why that was so awful, though. It’s because I had the time. I had the luxury of time to investigate the candidates. I googled their positions on topics important to me. I wasn’t being pressured into getting married right out of high school. I wasn’t a minority for not having ended up pregnant in high school. I had options and free time, and I had been encouraged to know and understand the world around me. My mother wasn’t privy to ANY of that.

When my mother was eighteen, she was graduating high school, getting her first divorce, figuring out where to live so she didn’t have to move back in with one of her parents, had no idea what she was supposed to do with her future, AND her senior year was sullied by riots and violence caused by the hostility of desegregation. In the small city my mother was raised in, it was the norm for girls to get married in high school, get knocked up, and never finish high school, much less go to college. This was doubly true when kids were scared of going to school because of the rioting… people could get killed. My mother had gotten married, but insisted on finishing high school. She was also not on board with being barefoot and pregnant while relying on some good ol’ boy from her hometown to take care of her. My mother was, and still is even if she’d never admit it, a freethinking feminist.She didn’t know that at the time, of course… and she really didn’t want ME to be one, oddly enough.

I’m fortunate that my high school career was pretty boring. I went to an a public school in a nice neighborhood (even if we didn’t live in that nice neighborhood), with a mixture of races, creeds, and religions, and never had to think twice about it. I was literally so fortunate that I didn’t even understand that I was going to have to decide what to do with my life until like my second year of college. Even now I kick myself for living in that dream world… but my academic life is a post for another time. My point is that I lived a life of security, and so when my first election year came up, I was prepared AND I was excited.

I guess it helps that my first election year was the year of hope. Obama spouted off about hope a lot that year, and while I knew that hope was a fickle thing that could leave at any time, I was excited to be part of something so much bigger than myself. My friends were equally excited. One even had an Obama party for election day. That win was amazing. It was a win for hope, and it was a win that put the first black president into office. (I am aware of the strangeness that mom’s first election was marred by the violence of desegregation and mine was highlighted by the election of the first black president… if this were a work of fiction, that would be a genius plot device.)

This election was a joke, and it took a lot away from me. Actually, the whole campaign season was a joke, with half the country backing a candidate that didn’t even win the party vote, and the other half backing a caricature depiction of what every country in the world sees America as: a racist, stupid, entitled fuck. I was legitimately ashamed of being American this year. (Although, Australia also had political catastrophes this year worthy of laughing at… but the world doesn’t have all eyes on Australian government.)

I was so sure, so very sure, that the American people wouldn’t let me down. Maybe a candidate like Ted Cruz could have garnered enough votes to win. He’s still a ludicrous Republican with no idea how the average American lives, but he’s a legit politician with a sense of decorum and people watching what he says so he doesn’t shout, “KILL ALL THE (insert pretty much anything that isn’t a cis, hetero, white man here)” from the rooftops. Surely, I thought, no one was REALLY going to vote for Trump, though. I mean, last time he ran for office he was laughed out of the election before the primaries. Much to my dismay, and true to form, America let me down.

Even before we get into how the American electoral system let me down, America let me down. The fact that there was ANYONE in the country, my country, that could listen to this bigot talk and not hate him was beyond me. The idea that there are people in the world that could back someone with his history, with his mouth, with his blatant disregard for the courtesy of lying to the American people about what you stand for just to save face… This man isn’t a Republican who is against abortion and for religion, and I’m mad because his idea of America is more “traditional” and less “politically correct” than mine. This is a man that scared other Republicans. This is a man that bad-mouthed people in his own party with blatant disregard. This is a man who had pending legal actions against him for rape. This is a man that has no political experience. This is a man that  This is a man that seems to have a weird bromance with the would-be dictator of Russia. (I know he’s the president, but if he could swing a dictatorship he would do it…)

I found myself wondering if the fear and sickness I felt was common after losing an election year. Would I have been scared of McCain or Romney? No, I decided. Palin made me nervous, but I wasn’t SCARED of her politics… just her idiocy. Did people feel this way when Bush was elected? A lot of scary things happened while Bush was in office, but no was the answer I got from those who voted in that election. They’d been disappointed, sure, but not scared.

It wasn’t until the election results were finalized that I understood how the electoral system had failed me. I’d never seen the popular vote not match the electoral vote before. I didn’t realize that was a thing that could happen, though I was sure I learned that in Discrete Math back in high school. Furthermore, when presented with all the information, I was sure that the electors would HAVE to represent the people. The electoral college was created as a barrier between the American people and a bad choice, a last ditch effort at protecting the public. At the bare minimum it should act to represent the people, right? Apparently… no.

2016 has been a dumpster fire of a year. It wasn’t until now that I realized just what it’s taken from me, though. It stole my hope.

I’ve lost interest in the government. If the actual popular vote means nothing, then why DID I vote? If the government, built on hear its people, doesn’t give a fuck about the people, then what freedoms can the American public actually claim they have?

In what world is it okay that every politician in the game is BEGGING the American people to give Trump a chance? BEGGING they not riot or revolt… BEGGING that we not start killing each other… and yet Trump isn’t begging his supporters for shit. Even when they wage domestic terrorism against the LGBTQIA+ Community, and the Black Community, the Latino Community, the (insert anything not cis, hetero, white male here) Community he remains… like the stone faced villain of some bedtime story meant to scare children.

It’s weird to feel so disillusioned, and so afraid. I never knew I put so much faith in my fellow Americans until they let me down. I never considered the holes in the electoral system until it spat in the face of the people.

I know a lot of people who already felt this way about America, but I never understood the reasoning. No, one vote doesn’t win an election, but until now I always thought that my vote still meant SOMETHING. I felt like it was important, even if it just got lumped into a pile with the others. Now, when I think about it all I feel empty… dirty even, for being so naive. It’s not that I thought America was the greatest country in the world… I just… I thought… I thought we we safer than we are.

A war hasn’t been fought on American soil since we fought ourselves. People don’t understand the security in that. I’m scared for the next eight years. I’m scared of what can be taken from me. I’m scared of what might happen to people I care about. I’m scared that the choices of a single, stupid fucking man could take me to an early grave… I’m scared of my life turning into a Young Adult novel set in dystopian, post-apocalyptic America…. I don’t have the gall to be a Katniss. I don’t have the heart to be a Tris. I am just numb to anything that isn’t fear when I think about our futures…

This is a feeling I will never forgive my government for.

Grieve & Get Ready

You can listen to this entry by clicking here.

Yesterday, I was pessimistic, but hopeful.
This morning I woke up to devastation.
I, like many others, am terrified.

Come inauguration day, January 20th, we will be living in Trump’s America.This is a version of reality that I never actually gave credence to until right now. I was prepared for four years of Hillary, as flawed as she was, but in no way am I mentally prepared for whatever is to come under the rule of Donald Trump: loud-mouthed, hate-spewing businessman with a long line of failure and a longer list of offenses.

People have already said it, but I will say it again: Donald Trump has proved what is great and what is terrible about America, and that is that ANYONE can become president.

A lot of people are speculating whether the Trump Inauguration will, in fact, happen come January. To those thinking he’ll back out and realize that he’s in over his head, I’d like to remind you what kind of narcissist we are dealing with. To those thinking that his upcoming court cases can save us with an impeachment, I’d like to remind you that Trump supporters did not seem to care what happened to land him in that courtroom. No, America, I’m afraid that against all hopes we will be facing an orange president, and we’re just going to have to deal with it.

I am not suggesting that we take this lying down. Mourn today. Mourn for the next 70 days if you must, but do not despair, for this is not over. I know a lot of people are grieving America right now: LGBTQIA+ people, People of Color, Women, white people who thought that other white people had maybe just cooled the fuck down for a god damn minute… and it is completely expected for you all to be angry, sad, scared, and lost. Please take care of yourselves and each other. But when you have cried until there is nothing wet left in you, and you have screamed all of your rage to heavens with throats made hoarse with ferocity, I urge you to meditate on your pain and your fear. Find the source and know it’s there, and then take that energy and fight. The fight for us, for you, for the people you care about, your nation, and your future, is not over until we are dead, my friends; and while we have taken a hard blow to what we have fought so hard for, we are not yet in the ground.

This election is historic, not because Hillary Clinton was almost the President of the United States, but because never before has half the country been so fearful of a potential leader. Even my mother, who has seen eleven presidents come and go, has never been SCARED of the president elect before. We, as a country need to use that fear.

A scared animal is the most dangerous. A scared nation is one rash move away from chaos. That is why we, as a country, need to harness all that fear and anger and make plans. We need to be involved. We need to TALK to each other. We have to stand up for each other and fight for each other. When Trump comes for one group, and he will, the rest of us need to be there to keep him from taking them, otherwise, who will be there when he comes for you and yours?

I’m not traditionally a political person, but Donald Trump is a danger to us all, and I’m not about to sit back and watch him strip away everything my friends, family, and my nation have fought so hard for. If that means I have to go out of my way to campaign, protest, learn, and change, then I will. I will do what I have to in order to protect my people. All of my people.

I don’t know who will hear this podcast or read this blog, but if you can hear me, I urge you to do what you can to make Trump’s reign a single term, and to make that term a struggle for him every step of the way. We have 1454 days to ensure that something this catastrophic, this embarrassing, and this terrifying NEVER happens again.

Not Official Yet… But…

So we’ve previously discussed that I have no life plan. I just fumble through life and once in a while I impulsive DO SOMETHING. This week I impulsively did a thing.

Let’s backup.

On Wednesday my mom woke up at 230 in the morning and her brain kicked on. It decided to show a reel of all the poor choices she’d made in her life. That set the tone for the whole day. It wasn’t a good day. Recently, because she keeps thinking about the fact she’s going die, my mom keeps trying to get things in order so that when she does die, I’m not fucked. Lol. I’m a pretty independent twenty-something, but with no other family to fall back on, she worries. I get that. So she’s been looking around to see where we could move that would afford me a better career opportunity. So, as she does, she was talking about us moving to Daphne, AL because there’s a Controller position open down there. I’m not a fan of the idea of moving pretty much anywhere that isn’t California (looking for no snow and no hurricanes but with beach access). I’m also not looking to be a Controller. My mom’s a Controller. I’ve seen that hell. It’s not what I’m looking for. So I told her no, because my eventual goal is California, but if she thought that would be good for her that she should go.

Apparently, that stabbed her in the heart and tore it out of her chest. She was mad as shit at me for that comment. Also, she felt the need to remind me that I’m not GOING anywhere. So… she got to relive all her bad choices at 230am, and she decided to remind me that my life is going nowhere. Great day… lemme tell you.

So we had to have it out. That’s how we communicate. I had to explain to her that I don’t really have a plan. I’m not a planner when it comes to my life. It made her sad. I also had to explain that I’m just not trying to stand in the way of her being happy. People DO go off and start over at sixty-something and enjoy the rest of their life. That’s a thing that happens. Then we got into:

“Do you think I’m smothering you?!” -her

“No, I think you feel responsible for me and how I do nothing with my life, because I’m boring and have no motivation.” -me

“You don’t have any other family when I’m gone! There are people in the South that are your family. In California, all you have is your dad’s family, and they’re not gonna help you.” -her

“I don’t want to move to California to be close to family. I don’t talk to family. I don’t even wanna move to the same area as my friend that lives in California. I’ve accepted that at some point I’m gonna be alone in the world and it’s fine. I just want what I want!” -me

So… We came to a weird impasse, but at the end of it, I pretty much explained that because of my own poor life choices I am stuck here indefinitely till after Keagan and Kyrie pass on. I’m hoping, of course, that that’s not terribly soon, but that’s how it is. I can’t move with four dogs and a cat. Keagan is 14, Kyrie is 10… So 4-6 years from now I’ll be ready to make a move. Also, in four years I should be out of my student loans. So my “plan” is to hang out in Denver till then.

Back at work, we were supposed to hire a Finance Assistant.
This made me kinda irritated.

You see, I asked our previous GM if I could learn to sell. He didn’t take me seriously.
I asked our previous Service Manager if I could be an Advisor, AND was prepared to go back to school for it. He didn’t take me seriously.
So, I was kinda irritated that if we needed a Finance Assistant, that the GM didn’t think to ask if anyone in the office would want to move up.

Long-story-short, the finance assistant isn’t coming. There’s a lot of politics in there as to why, but she’s not coming. So… I decided to throw my hat in the ring. He couldn’t see me that night, though. So I talked to him yesterday.

The job sounds daunting and stressful and generally awful. I’m helping assist finance, but I’m also supposed to learn finance and start selling myself… and help sales… so like the entire floor will be yelling at me for help. Still, all I could think of was Brooke.

Brooke was a finance person we had for a long long time. She was pretty, and confident, and scandalous. She also made a killing every paycheck. Obviously, we can’t all be Brooke. Brooke is an idolization that I aspire to be, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be her a little bit.

As of this morning, it’s looking like I’ll be moving to finance. First we have to find a title clerk, then I have to pass the sales licensing test, change my hair, get a “customer facing wardrobe,” and learn what I’m going to actually be doing… but all signs point to me giving up my Saturdays and learning to be on the floor.

It’s scary as fuck.

When I had to move from middle school to high school, I was terrified and cried about it.
When I had to graduate and start college, I had a complete panic attack and tore all my fake nails off on the first day of classes.
When college was over and I realized that I wasn’t gonna get a job in my field, and that I had to make an adult decision for employment, I copped out and just staid here.
I don’t handle big changes exceedingly well, is what I’m saying.

But… I impulsively did a thing, and it’s looking like that’s what I’m doing… regardless of if I’d rather back out and hide in my house forever, instead.

I’m hoping that with the increase in money, even if it’s not that much to start with, that I can get a new car… and build my way up from there to being more of a really real adult… or get a maid… I really want a maid…

Important thing is that it appears I have some kind of short-term game plan… and if it doesn’t work out, I have all my accounting and title experience to fall back on. But I hope it works out. Moving for a job in finance is better than moving for a job in accounting. Better pay, more options… so… it’s scary but it’s good.

Anyways… more when it’s official, yeah?

Is Fat Better Than Flab?

Guys, I’m scared to lose weight.

So my weight loss goals go unachieved every single year. I might drop some weight, but I haven’t lost any significant weight since 2009. There’s a myriad of reasons for it, including a binge eating habit and a lack of activity being up there at the top of reasons I struggle with my weight, but there’s a bigger reason that no one really understands until they’re looking down the barrel of it…

image

This picture comes from an article about a woman that lost 110 lbs. This is what her body looked like afterward… just extra skin everywhere. She tried to exercise it away to no avail, and finally she had to have four surgeries to remove 10 lbs of skin. The end product is still not what she thought she’d get, but it’s better. (Click to read the whole article, it’s great.)

image1

So… Doing the math… if I were to lose the 125 lbs that I want to lose, this is my future. I’d also like to point out that she had breast augmentation to get those boobs back. She lost all her boobs, as you can see in the previous picture. So, I’ll be flabby and flat-chested, instead of fat with boobs.

WHY WOULD I WANT TO SENTENCE MYSELF TO THIS?

No one told me, growing up, that this could happen. I was always kind of a fat kid. I could have been a thin teenager and maybe I wouldn’t have become a fat adult until way later in life. It’s only recently that I’ve been made aware that this is my impending reality if I ever get my shit together. I was always told that my skin, being young as it is, would snap back into place. Now, I’m on the wrong side of 25, and it’s officially too late to go back.

Do I still want to lose weight? Yes. Of course I do. I’d love to not be fat, but I don’t really know if I’m more upset by the idea of being fat my entire life, or losing weight just to end up with miles of skin covered in stretch marks that will never fade, that someone will probably have to CUT off of my person. I mean, neither is particularly appealing.

I thought of this, not just because I read the article, but because I’m looking to start hiking this year… Which I hate and don’t want to do, but I said I would do it, so I’m going to do it… But if you couple my diet plans with hiking, I should lose weight… Which is great! Except that I’m terrified out of my mind to end up a pile of skin. I don’t think I could deal with that, mentally. I think I’d wake up one morning and just kill myself, because if you can’t be happy being thinner, then what the fuck is going to make you happy?

I know it sounds overdramatic…. and I’d have to actually a substantial amount of weight before skin would be a problem for me… but… I dunno. It just makes losing weight seem so pointless.

Not to mention all the fat people that lose weight and then die of heart problems… Momma Cass didn’t die from choking on a sandwich. She lot a ton of weight, was really healthy for once in her life, and her heart gave out. John Pinette did the same thing more recently.

It just feels… so fucking pointless to try and get my shit together…  Flab. Death. That feeling of perpetual unhappiness even when you achieve you life goals, because life is really quite meaningless and we’re all just killing time and distracting ourselves from death….

I think I’m having an existential crisis.

Apparently I’m Gonna Write A Book? (Maybe…)

So, a wonderful, beautiful thing happened last night. I went to see Eddie Izzard at the Paramount, and rekindled my deep seeded crush on him. Not only did I laugh to the point I was crying, but it was just nice to feel something relatively normal. My last entry, if you missed it, was about how uncomfortable it is to not feel attraction towards people. It is, and I hate it, and I find myself hating me because I feel so broken (It’s a good entry… go read it), and I don’t like hating me: me is awesome. So it was a really magical kind of moment to see Eddie Izzard get up on stage and feel my heart flutter with the distant memory of what a crush feels like. I was almost giddy with it.

FAQ:
Did you feel sexual attraction toward Eddie?
I don’t think so, but I felt romantic attraction, as well as platonic. Maybe even a little sensual attraction… Like, I would cuddle with Eddie Izzard if he brought me hot tea and then told me stories.
Does this crush change anything about you? No. I’m still Aro. I’m still Ace. I just caught a glimpse of a crush and it’s better than heroin***.
(***Author has never tried heroin… but assumes it is fantastic in a life-ruining kind of way)

Do you think this will trigger you to have crushes on other people in really real life? I’m not counting on it. I mean, to find a witty, intelligent, attractive, British transvestite comedian in Denver is a pretty lofty goal. Finding someone that’s any of those characteristics is hard, really.

I know that to most people, aro or otherwise, it will seem really childish to be so excited about having a crush. To those people I say, “I’m glad you’re so comfortable with yourself, and I hope to be like you one day.” For me, though, this isn’t just feeling a crush. It’s like gaining sensation back into a dead limb. It’s a moment of normalcy in a world where nothing about how I relate to people is normal. I’m distant, cold, rarely attracted to no one in any kind of capacity, and prefer the company of my dogs to most people. But last night I was normal. I was just a fangirl, sitting in a theater, swooning like an idiot over a person that made me turn to glitter. If you can’t understand what a relief and a beautiful thing that was for me… I dunno. I envy you, I guess.

In the wake of my my moment, I got an idea. I’ve decided to TRY to write a book. It’s a novel. It’s about an asexual aromantic, and what that’s like. Will she end up finding out that she was never aromantic or asexual and that she just needed to find the right person to show that to her? FUCK NO. I hate when books end like that. Will she end up in a QPR? Maybe. I haven’t thought that far. I really want to write it, though.

My goal with the book is to highlight what I’ve felt in my adventures, thus far, being aromantic and asexual. The ups, the downs, the failed attempts at dating and relationships. I’m going to make the main character less hermity than myself, though. Like yeah, she’s AroAce like me, but she’ll have closer friends and be a little more human and a little less cyborg. Lol. There’s going to be fighting, self-doubt, pain, self hatred, loneliness, confusion… I want it all in there. I want the narrative to make you feel things, beautiful and wretched… and I want people to realize that being Aro or Ace, or both, doesn’t mean you don’t feel those things.

So… I’ve already started on the first entry for that. If you’re interested in it, the new blog for it will be here. I should have the first entry up sometime this evening, I think. The entries will prolly jump around… I have never been good at writing in a linear pattern… more like a stream of consciousness… and then I’ll have to reorganize later… but there it is if you’re interested.

Other Random Stuff:
My car is broken… drive shaft is coming apart… shop is gonna fix it… Mothership is gonna help me pay for it… I hate that I have to ask for help… UGH… I get to go see JULY TALK tomorrow with Billie. That’s exciting because A, I love July Talk, 2, I love Billie, and D, I found someone to go to that show with me.
Been playing a lot of Final Fantasy X on PS2… avoiding real social interaction…

And yeah. I guess that’s all for now. ^_^

What Is My Life Now?

I found a journal I’ve been keeping on and off since Senior Year yesterday. Read some it… how lost I was, then.

But then I started thinking about it… and I’m not less lost now then I was. Not at all. I can’t even answer questions I used to be able to answer anymore. Older people will tell you that your 20s are meant to be when you figure out who you are, but fuck… I haven’t any kind of idea. I’ve had the same job for eight years, I live in the same house, next door to my mother…
I mean the only thing that’s really changed between 2006 and now, is that I have four dogs and a cat, instead of two dogs. I also go out significantly less. So… I guess I got more boring and became more of an animal hoarder. AND I stopped dating people… So I dropped that slut status… But is that gonna be the rest of my life?I know they say not to compare your life to the lives of others, because they don’t share your experiences and nothing will be comparable… but it’s almost impossible not to make the comparison. Social media throws it all in my face.Things other people have accomplished:

    MarriageChildrenLaw schoolNot growing up at allMoving awayGetting big awesome jobsJobs in the field in which they got their degree

I got none of that. I don’t even have a significant other… because people suck… but I haven’t really DONE anything. I got a graphic design degree from a horrible for-profit college… and that’s really the end of the achievement list. I haven’t even lost weight since high school. I gained it. It’s like my life is standing totally still.

But, then I had this scary ass thought…
I don’t wanna get married. I’m not going back to college, more than likely. I have a house and a good job here, so I’m probably not going to move any time soon. So… aside from either accidentally getting pregnant (which I don’t foresee since I’ve decided to stop banging people for good this time) or adopting a kid, there is nothing else for me to look forward to. I have no achievements left in life. That’s the most depressing thing to happen to a 25 year old, EVER.

Bird’s got a new man, and her graduation is coming up. Who knows what she’ll end up doing in the next five years.
Davy gets his bar exam scores soon and, in spite of his doubts, will probably get a lawyer job somewhere. Knowing Davy, this will take exactly five years for him to become some kind of partner in the firm and then he and his man will adopt some kids and sale off into the golden sunset.
And… that’s like the end of my friends list.

I have this horrible fear that nothing will change in my life in the next eight years… What if I wake up at 33 and I have 16 dogs, no significant other, no kids, and I’m still here at the dealership? I’m gonna kill myself, that’s what will happen… Probably not. I can’t leave dogs without a home… but for fuck’s sake. I just…

I can’t even… I’m scared. I hate this crap. Living with total uncertainty CANNOT be the endgame to life… You reach 25 and your world falls apart because it has no where left to go?What kind of shit deal is that?