Ages ago during my daily blog perusal, I came across this entry by Jo. Jo lives in DC, comes to Happy Hours, speaks Spanish, and admired my ass in my Lucky Brands. Therefore I love Jo. But what really drew me to her writing and actually forced me to squeal in delight at seeing her was this paragraph:

Instead, I drove back to my apartment wishing I could go back home. Back home to a time where things weren't so complicated; when mailing the rent check that eats up 50% of my monthly salary didn't make me hyperventilate every month; when taxes and insurance and car titles didn't cause a week long argument with my mom; when getting married and having kids seemed so far away and when thinking about "what I want to do with my life" didn't cause me to bite my nails down to nothing.

It resonated with me. Deeply resonated to my very core, because YES! She gets it. It’s how I’ve been feeling almost everyday for the past two years and even more so over the past three months. I’m growing weary of the responsibility and the decisions that need to be made and how much money is where and since when was “So where do you see yourself in five years?” the standard question after “How are you?” While we’re at it, would it be that irrational of me to say “Gee, I don’t know but I do have these crazy flip cup skills, so if that leads to any sort of future, sign me up.”

I want to say I don’t know. I’d like to not freak out and remove my cuticles and lay awake until one AM think and rethinking what exactly it is that I want with my future. I don’t want pro and con lists and for once I’d just really like it if I could curl up in the fetal position on my half busted bed with a glass of Prosecco and have someone else answer the “so what do you want to do?” question. I just want to stop for three minutes and really, I don’t recall signing up for this much responsibility and to make such massive career choices.

But in the end it comes down to this:

I realized that magic didn't work anymore a long time ago and yet it still hurts. I get up every day and go to work, pay my bills, clean the apartment, take care of all my responsibilities.

As much as I’d love to take a whirl in a DeLorean time machine, I know that in the end that is just so not a possibility. So I go on: I acquiesce to my new fate in life of being responsible, I make a pro and con list and I sit and really ponder where I really want to be in five years
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BlogHer CE, Heather B, also blogs at No Pasa Nada