Quarter Life Un-Crisis

So, I’m 25.  And the other day I felt overwhelmed with all the changes coming my way...much like the breakdowns we have when we turn 50, get divorced and remarried, and start researching hair plugs. And then it occurred to me that this is not crisis mode…it’s UNCRISIS mode.  As it should, moving my whole life to Boston is causing a bit of anxiety in my normal, care-free life.  Actually, that is partially inaccurate…I’m only care free sometimes.  FINE.  I’m care free never…that sure does feel gross to say.  

Anxiety, and a whole lot of uncertainty.  My bosses seem great, but have placed the solvation of world peace in under a month on my plate.  (Literally, they just called to tell me to take as much time as I needed because i'm about to not have a life.  Excellent.)  I don’t have a car but know I will drive at LEAST a couple of hours a day.  I’m moving back in with my parents, whom I havn’t lived with since I was 14.  My siblings lives are absolutely jam packed, and I have two friends there, and let’s just say, they know eachother.  Friggen fantastic.  Every once in a while I remind myself how hard this really could be…

Instead though of defeat, I’m kind of excited to fight with my dad.  Dysfunctional?  Probably.  I can’t wait to be the manager of a club where it’s quite possible I’m hazed, and not liked.  My new boss is probably a giant doucher, and could make my life a living hell.  I will probably drive a car whose door is a different color than the body, and will break down on my way to work, and I’ll be too poor to afford AAA, and my dad will be four hours away in another state working and I’ll be stranded in my broken, 2-colored car.  “How to lose a job in ten days” will be the title to the next blogpost.  Either way, the likelihood of me crying myself to sleep for two weeks is promising.

Above is a fantasticly funny story I've told myself.  None of it is true...I can’t waste another minute not living ever remaining minute of my life from a place of possibility and generating my very soon coming success.  Everyday I don’t: write, explore; make time for a good friend; give unselfishly; hold back because of fear and insecurity; or push through the discomfort, I’m being just like every other average jane with “potential”. I don’t fall in the middle of the pack…I lead the pack.  I am unafraid.  And that’s just that.

Nancy Drew

Big girl wine nights are my favorite…I get so excited because one could never predict the direction our conversations will go. You can imagine the build up when Wendy texts me a couple of hours before we meet on her porch…”I have something CRAZY to tell you.  I have knots in my stomach.” The best part?  I have NO idea what to expect.

Fast forward…porch sitting, wine glasses in hand:

Me: Wendy, do tell.  Is he gay?  Does he have secret children?  Drug dealer??  So, what is it?

Wendy:  No, are you crazy!  Nothing like that.  I’ve been a sleuth. 

Me:  A sleuth?  Lol, what do you mean? 

Wendy:  Well, I was awake last night when he snuck out…it was 1:54 am.

Me:  Youre convincing me your psycho right now, but this is gonna be good.  Go on.

Wendy (shrugging, and in the most casual possible way, she then says): Lol.  So, I got outa bed, ya know, brushed my teeth and washed my face.  Then I got all dressed in black and followed him.

Me: SHUT THE FRONT DOOR.  Now…I’m convinced, your nuts.  But go on.

Wendy: Well, I just wanted to see if he went to his store like he said he did.  So I went to the store, and he wasn’t there.

Me:  So then you came home…

Wendy:  NO!  Then I went to his house, and his lights were on…but those damn blinds! I couldn’t see anything!  And I had to be careful because they have an alarm system…

Me: And it’s a good thing they do, to prevent you from sneaking in through the windows!!  You mean to tell me…you’re crazy ass got out of your car??

Wendy (again, in a completely casual and I-do-this-shit-all-the-time kind of voice): Oh its not the first time I’ve gotten out of my car and inspected his house before…

Me (now big eyed, and laughing hysterically): Of course you have wendy….

Wendy:  Lol, what?!?! Just a modern day Nancy Drew.. (I can’t make that shit up…she really said that…)

Me (now laughing too hard to speak….)

Wendy: WHAT?! You would have done it too!!

Me: no, not a chance…but I’m not judging.  Dude, you didn’t think this one through, wen.  What if you had gotten caught?!

Wendy: Oh!! Well, here’s the crazy par-

Me: THERE’S A CRAZY PART?!?!

Wendy (still laughing..) Well, I had printed out the information for Go Green Arlington and was going to pretend to be a door to door girl…you know, trying to convince them to, ya know, go green!!

Me:  Of COURSE.  (My head is now shaking in my hands…and if in this conversation I was speechless, I’m now that, times 10.)

Wendy: What?!!? If that’s not thought out, I don’t know what is!!

Dialogue went on for some time.  The truth is, our modern day nancy drew here is one of my favorite people in the whole world.  She’s resourceful and while this story might convince you otherwise, she’s highly intelligent. AND she’s beautiful.  She has a billion guys following her around all the time, hoping that they will get that chance to tie her down, but she’s kind of un-tie-down-able.  It’s my personal favorite, when she invites all the men in her life to a party, and they all show up, thinking their with her.  She has the imagination of a 7 year old, yet last night we celebrated her 30^th birthday. I personally hope that she never, ever grows up and will always remain my modern day “Nancy Drew.”

The kitties move to NH. And me too.

  My dad and eldest brother Josh just drove my entire, meowing life away in a 5 X 8 U haul truck.  I’m not sure what condition my remains will be in when they arrive to its newest destination, New Hampshire, but I guess I should have thought of that when it was neatly displayed in my apartment.

   I really don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into.  Moving to a new job, in a new state, in a new home.  It all feels a little bit on the unreal side. I can best describe the feeling by looking into the eyes of my complete mess of a feline; who nearly took my dad’s face off as we jammed her in her car carrier…the fear that’s always in her eyes, now circumstantially heightened, is striking.  People ask me all the time why I even bother with her, which usually in turn renders me speechless.  (I technically inherited her from my roommate; an evil, evil barn cat.)  In truth, I guess I kind of detest the little thing.  She has a serious attitude problem, she’s a straight up little bitch who knows she’s just pretty enough to be kept. She has a knack for turning her charm on when she’s done particularly bad things, like pee on my roommates clean clothes or unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper…again.  And for two solid years she thinks that she is the center of all worth…WRONG.  She is quite undeserving, at least as far as kitty’s go, she couldn’t be any more opposite of my other perfect cat.  (Enter second cat…perfect.) In fact, I have a few friends who call him Jesus.  I wish I could lie and say I’m kidding…but I’m not.  Handsome is the Savior of cats….WWHD…what would Handsome do.  Should be on cat collars with a picture of his sweet face; coming soon to a cat near you…

   In an uncanny way, I am just like the little bitch-cat.  She is in fact a cat version of myself; scared, seemingly narcissistic, and over-confident, to name a few of our dominant flaws.  I do think, though, that people would hold in high regard my “keeper” characteristic amongst my many, many downfalls, even if they can’t figure out one single reason why to “keep” me.   I have no idea why I keep her!  Many times have I considered “accidentally” opening the doors and chasing her out. But I, too, hiss at people when I feel defenseless, and symbolically claw for my own life when the outcome is out of my control.  I wouldn’t let you shove me in a cage without a vicious fight where I try to rip your face off either (sorry, face.)  I would most certainly cry for an hour or two at the mere suggestion of such bull shit.  So sadly I watched her today act out of pure survival, and realized I keep her for her near humane qualities (or my ridiculous bitch cat qualities…whatever.) Most prominently, I wonder if people see the apprehension in my eyes as clearly as I did in hers.

   I keep her because someone’s got to love and look out for the impossible bitch “Lindsey’s” of the world.  This version happens to be small, have fine graying hair, and requires allergy medicine on occasion.  She’s also unfortunately expensive…typical.  (WHAT?! We have good taste.)  She is needy, overly curious, catastrophically messy; a tragic cliché of a cat.  She is everything people hate in cats.  Am I everything people hate in women?  Fuck.

   Is it weird that I see myself in a cat?  Perfect.  Love me or leave me…us.  In the state of New Hampshire, we are now officially a two-fer.  (*If you are not from DC, do read Lindsey’s dictionary definition: two-fer: noun; word attaching two objects; two for one deal.  “Now that Lindsey spent $300 dollars in unnecessary shots and has fed her faithfully for over two years, she and her cat Luci are now unfortunately considered a two-fer; leaving Lindsey likely single until the death of said bitch-cat.”)