We have officially, through paperwork, become the renters of a large, lovely house. It’s not very far from my uncle, and the neighborhood is very pretty. And quiet. There’s also a new car which may be named Charlie of Jet…or something else.
I’ve been a bit of a negative person since we’ve made this move back to the US. For some reason, I can’t grasp the fact that change requires a bit of setup time. I was hoping to be moving so much faster through this first week being here (and I did as it’s been about a week now!) and getting down to business. But there have been hiccups and side roads and just plenty of things to deal with. One by one, they are being resolved and order is being brought to the family life, but I still feel lost. I’m still feeling all that disappointment in myself for where I’ve ended up. I know it’s not completely feasible for everyone to jump into their own life after college; not likely that every college graduate will have a job after graduation. But compared to the number of people I know with jobs to the ones that don’t, the odds are fucked up. At this rate, I should have made enough money for a studio apartment while in college, graduated with a position at an interesting job, and know exactly what I want to do for the rest of my life.
I’ve never been a person who knows what they want to do.
High expectations are good, but they’re killing me right now. And I don’t think what I expect is something unattainable. I don’t believe it’s something I should have to compromise on. But here we are.
I’m waiting, but I’m getting very impatient.