Wednesday, May 25, 2011

relevant ramblings?

it's strange.  i always pictured my life differently.

as did my parents.  and my grandparents as well, i'd imagine.  i wonder if any of us truly got what we wanted.  not to say that any of us don't appreciate what we have, it's just...strange.  how did we get so far from our dreams?

10 years ago, i was 14 going on 15.  all i could think about was getting out of san antonio and experiencing something else.  i got my first taste of another culture and way of life when i was 15 going on 16.  suddenly i say myself speaking french and spanish fluently, hobknobbing in nyc, wearing stillettos without wobbling and writing articles that would boggle the mind.

how far from that could i get?

when i was 17 going on 18 i was still doubting myself.  high school made me a cynic.  no matter how much support i got from my family, i was still afraid of failure.  then i almost died.  i don't think i ever appreciated how close i came.  (and i still feel anger towards the doctors and nurses who didn't believe me when i said there was no way in hell i could possibly be pregnant...if i was, then my mother surely would've had to convert, b/c i would've been the poster child for immaculate conception.)  i fell in love with a boy when i was 17.  he broke my heart ten months later.  my cynicism grew.  and grew.  and grew.

when i was 20 going on 21, i had a gaggle of best girl friends.  i wanted to spend my life with them.  i started to fall in love again, with the man who had once been the boy who broke my heart.  i started paying attention to politics (for real this time), started fearing what comes after college, started second guessing my decision to major in english.

i don't think i ever recovered from high school.  even with all the support and love i had from my parents and various other family members, there were so many things that went wrong, so many mistakes that i made and that's when i stopped having confidence in my self. 

because now i'm 24 going on 25.  i'm almost a quarter century old, and i have very little to show for it.  and, yes, i'm proud of what i do independence, my degree, a job and the promise of happily ever after with my sailor man.  but i don't totally feel like an adult, yet.  i think that comes with a career, one i haven't even crouched down at the starting line for.  and my dreams and aspirations have changed.  now i'm the girl who wants to get her hands dirty, in stilettos or in running shoes, writing only for my peace of mind and traveling the world, while maintaining a home base in my precious southern homeland (although i do still want to be fluent in french and spanish).

oh, my stomach is churning, just thinking about that application i have sitting in the hands of the people who will decide my immediate future.  if i don't get in, i'll try again, but i'm so tired of being the one who gets cut.  i feel it straight through to my soul (damn me for being an artist...we're just so damn emotive).  all i know, is that if i do get in it would be the best 25th birthday present ever.  and i would vow to not be so passive, as i have been in all my previous endeavors to become...well, me.

also, a near pair of jeans (or two!) would be nice.

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