Divisions and Precisions

Existential Blues

(Warning: Existential crisis ahead, filled with much twenty-something angst. Read at your own risk.)

I got asked a question today that I just couldn't answer. Well, no, that's not true. I did know my answer, but it wasn't a satisfying one. Jo and I were talking about our job reviews. I started to complain realizing the difference in attitude - both mine and the company's, from last year. Last year, I was this department's golden child. Everything I did was near-perfect, and I was assured that I would be out of the reception area as soon as possible, on to bigger and better things. I was enthusiastic about my job, and about this company, even though I knew I didn't plan on staying here forever. After several months of applying within the company, and getting door after door slammed in my face, my attitude changed. I kept getting put off. Then with a slew of personal problems, I ended up on probation (which, charmingly enough, I found out today, everyone in the department knows about, due to a talkative former supervisor). Four months from that last review, I went from golden child to problem child. With that change, went any hopes of me being seen as a serious employee here. Now my probation's over, but I'm not going anywhere.

Jo asked me, "So why are you still here?" I shrugged, "It pays well, and for now I don't care enough about what's wrong here to leave," was pretty much my answer. That bothered me. A lot. Here I have a comfy job that pays my bills, but I also have supervisors that see me as a slacker, and one particular co-worker who bitches about me whenever she gets the chance. I guess I never saw myself as quite as much the servant to the almighty dollar. But I am. I'm staying here because the money and the benefits are good, the job's bearable, even if I don't give a shit about it, and because well, where else am I going to go? I don't know where I want to go. No clue at all.

I don't put any of my self into this job. My true self is elsewhere. In my writing, and my friends... but it bothers me that I can usually be complacent with that. Not content. If I was content, I wouldn't be writing this at all. Complacency like this scares me. In my private nightmare visions, I see myself twenty years from now, shackled to this same desk, answering the same dumb phone calls, and still not giving a damn about them. All because I don't know what I want to make out of this life. I've got so damn much potential, and I don't know what to do with it. I feel like it's too late to start anything, that I've fallen too far behind, that I've made too many mistakes to pick up and start over. Or do I want to start over? As what?

When I worked in child care, I threw myself into it. I loved it, and the thought of doing it for the next twenty years of my life didn't strike terror into my heart. Part of me wants to go back to it... but after making what I do... I can't see myself going back to making $13,000 a year. But at the same time, I threw too much of myself into that, as well. That might have just been a boundary issue, and I may have resolved it, but still... the almighty dollar holds sway over us all.

I used to tell myself that would never happen to me. I told myself that a lot, back when I was making $6.50 an hour teaching and taking care of infants and toddlers. Now I've gotten used to having enough to get by on and a little extra.

Oh, enough with the crap. I'm scared. Pure and simple. Scared to stay where I am, scared to move forward, and really scared to go back.

Scared into indecision. Ya know... I found this old conversation, from probably eight or nine months ago. The person called 'Jen' is me. The other person was going to put this on her web page... I don't know that she ever did, so I'll put it here. If you're wondering about the format, it was a conversation done in long distance real-time messages (pages) on a MUSH.

Long distance to Jen: J is depressed by her recent apathy.

Jen pages: Ouch. What's up?

You paged Jen with 'Nothing. Therein lies the problem. Too much of this, and not enough of the shoulds and the creating, y'know?'.

From afar, Jen nods. "I think I understand."

You paged Jen with 'Yeah. I think I do too. And no one's kicking my ass:P'.

Jen pages: Sucks when ya gotta be the one to do that yourself sometimes. :(

You paged Jen with 'Really, but I think it's time I learned how, you know? I have sort of a binge and purge mentality when it comes to work. Obsess for a bit, turn back and be bored.'.

Jen pages: And right now you're bored?

You paged Jen with 'Less bored than apathetic and... scared I think.'.

Jen pages: Scared of what?

You paged Jen with 'I dunno. Failing, I guess. I hate being wrong.'.

From afar, Jen nods. "I'm always more afraid of succeeding, myself."

You paged Jen with 'Rock and a hard place. What do I do if I'm actually a fuck up? What do I do if I'm actually brilliant?'.

From afar, Jen puts a finger on her nose and points at you. "Bingo. That's me in a nutshell."

You paged Jen with 'Yeah. Me too.'.

Jen pages: Funny how we don't seem to worry about being mediocre.

You paged Jen with 'I do. That *terrifies* me.'.

Jen pages: I just figure that I'm one extreme or the other, I suppose...

You paged Jen with 'I just don't want to be like everyone else. I know I'm smarter than a lot of people. Wasting that is a scary thought.'.

From afar, Jen thinks and nods. "Yeah, that's kinda where I'm at right now too. I have a job that -totally- doesn't require my brain."

You paged Jen with 'We should do stuff. Damn Apathy.'.

From afar, Jen chuckles. In my case, it's laziness too.

You paged Jen with 'Bingo. This is creepy.'.

From afar, Jen grins. "We're just typical representatives of our generation, didn't you know that? ;)"

You paged Jen with 'Gah, shoot me now.;)'.

From afar, Jen shakes her head. "Nope. That would take too much effort. ;) Besides, what if I missed?"

You paged Jen with 'LOL!'. [Editor's translation of Netspeak: LOL=Laughs Out Loud]

Jen pages: Or what if I hit? Either way, it's too scary to deal with. ;)

You paged Jen with 'Or what if the gun blows up in my hand?'.

Jen pages: That could happen too!

You paged Jen with 'Anything could, and it's all bad.'.

From afar, Jen nods! We should just stay here, then.

You paged Jen with 'Safe in "cyberspace"'.

Jen pages: Yeah, that's it. :P


Hard to tell who was who there, huh? If that doesn't sum me up, I don't know what does.