I have been going through these weird miniature personal crises ever since I turned 25. An example of the side effects of said crises, I have become so anal at presenting myself "just-so" that I literally just googled "plural of crisis" so that I didn't look like an asshole.
Physically, I don't look really different. My life hasn't undergone some major shift. I haven't been fucking around with the force. But for some reason, my entire being feels stuck inside my body.
And the bad thing is that it is recursive. The more I reflect on my life, the more I feel stifled by my self. The more stifled I feel, the more I reflect on my life to find the source of the choke. Which makes me feel more stifled. And so on. I guess this is the quarter life crisis thing, but it feels so much heavier than that. I have had multiple chances recently to put the value of my life in perspective with the value of the world, and consistently come up feeling like I need to acquire more value, FAST.
I am sure this is totally not making sense.
But that is part of the point. One of the things I stumbled upon was the state of this blog. I originally started it back in the olde days of January 2003 (with the first entry appropriately titled "ass") with the intention of creating an archive of my life. Over time, it has morphed into a bastard child of my relics from internet cool-hunting. This is far away from my original goal. So, my new resolution (is it OK to have resolutions in March?) is to make this blog more novelistic. More like you are talking to me as a person. For those of you that have talked to me in person, you know the difference. Shit just pours from my mouth when I am comfortable with my company. Which is why this blog is great. In my mind, I am my own company and there is no one I feel more comfortable with.
So, back to quarter life crisis. Ugh. Part of the plague that is eating me alive is that my life has followed a relative path of sameness over time. No real big diversions or forks in the road. But my mind works like Sliding Doors. I overanalyze every little possible diversion. What if I had done this? What if I had stopped doing this? Up until I was about 19, I never had reason to do this, because I always took advantage of the things that crossed my path. Should I move away from home when I am a junior in high school by myself and go live on the other side of the country? Sure, why not. Now, my life is all about comfort and complacency. Sameness. The idea of changing one thing doesn't even exist anymore. In order to change one thing, I would have to change a hundred things. Which would change a hundred more. So change really ceases to happen.
Maybe it isn't really about missing opportunities. Maybe it really is about missing youth. I miss being brazen and self-centered. You have to give a fuck about other people as an adult, but you are expected to totally ignore the needs of those around you as a child. I miss the discovery of being a teenager. The firsts. I miss having crushes. I miss having people have crushes on me (and greatly appreciate the random crushing comment). I miss getting worked up about meeting new people. Instead, I just freak out when I meet new people and act like a complete and utter ass. I don't think that I will ever know what it is like to kiss someone new for the first time ever again in my life. I miss the rush of someone I barely know telling me they love me. I fall asleep at night soundly reliving these experiences, because it is the closest I can get. And this makes me feel old.
But, whatever. Like I said, I'm already drunk.
