I should subscribe to the New York Times. I love NYT. I feel like NYT, the New Yorker, and Washington Post add a lot of value to my life and I should really be contributing to their continuance- but maybe I also resent myself for not going with a journalism major and I'm taking it out on them. More likely, I'm indulging in that one economic principal I can't remember the name of- where basically everyone is terrible and is way more likely to take advantage of free stuff. I spend a lot of my day calculating exactly what would be missing from my diet if I restricted it completely to the snacks that are provided in the breakroom. It's not as though they're bad snacks, either. It's trail mix, beef jerky, dried fruit, various sparkling waters, wheat thins, chips- it's probably completely sustainable. There's even pita chips now! I feel like I'm just a step down from having "made it" by landing a sweet tech gig with a cafeteria. I have never finalized my plan to completely mooch, which in theory extends to stashing things away for the weekend, but I have considered it more times than is probably respectable.

I realize that I am not the kind of person that does things. I have started on a novel and I am still underneath the word count for a novelette. At this point I have probably said more words to anyone who would listen about how I am under the word count for a novelette than I have written words toward my novelette. I think I'm the kind of person who starts doing something just so they can talk about it for the rest of their lives. You remember that one time I tried aerial silks? No? Let me remind you- I did, I took two classes, and I am going to keep bringing it up until we die.

Right now I'm looking at what I will have to buy to take ballet. The only classes available are during the day on weekdays, but our office has moved downtown where the studio is, so it'll only be a 10 minute run over there. I know I'm going to pay for this, and I'll probably go at least once, and then I will tell you about it forever.

I'm becoming increasingly frustrated by this, though. I really want to just throw myself into things. I don't know if I've ever really been all in. I think about the people who just spend every hour they can on some hobby, some passion, some talent that just consumes them. I pretty frequently let my mind wander to the people who are able to just pack up and move somewhere else- who just drop everything and travel. I know someone who did that! Or knew- we haven't really talked in a while. It was so impressive, though. They saved money, planned exactly how much they would need, secured places to house-sit and other random things I would not think about utilizing to further an adventure quest. And this wasn't the first time they had done something like this! They used to work seasonally in places all over the United States! This couple is a marvel, and I spent a lot of the last three days thinking that I'm going to let myself go completely nuts when my parents finally die. Maybe I'll take up stripping? Could I maintain that as a career and would that path go to becoming a rapper or a prostitute? Either way it would be a story! But until my parents die I could never move out of Texas. I'd feel to guilty. Especially since my mom decided to inconvenience us all by getting cancer- now there's no end to the looping reel of disappointments I have to make up for. If they had been happier, healthier people I could live more recklessly. If we had been richer when I was growing up I might even be able to blame them for my inability to settle down. As it stands, any desire to spontaneously move to Boston or Chicago to find a cute trashy guy of Irish decent to settle into a serious drug problem with is clouded by the knowledge of the living heartbreak it would cause my parents. Dead heartbreak I would be fine with, ghosts hold much less power than the living memory. The specter of someone I know is still out there projecting into my emotional imbalance is far more frightening than things from the after-life.

It doesn't help that I'm also incredibly needy. I am not great at adventuring by myself. I should be a much kinder person because I really want to spend most of my life travelling with a posse and that is not going to manifest if I stay a complete bitch forever. This has made a lot of the media I've be ingesting as of late a little hard to swallow. I'm such an Ingrid. I know, with a level of certainty that I don't have for even remembering my own name, that I would start stalking someone if I had the funds. I would bleach my hair and move to California right now if my parents were dead. I try not to follow any low-key internet celebrities on any platform just because I can already visualize how many people in the world are doing really great and if that were confirmed somehow it would destroy me. I have like a terminal case of #FOMO. So restarting Mindy Kaling's first book has also been a sprinkle of itching powder in a flea infestation. I need tighter best friends and we need to start doing much more impressive things.

Which brings me back to looking at the required clothing for ballet classes. Ballet is on Wednesdays, ice skating could be Tuesday nights, but I think I'll be more likely to go on Saturday mornings....although, this would mean that I can't leave town for 8 weeks. I guess I have to do Tuesdays, thanks for your help with that, internet. I was going to wait on pole until I completed ballet and ice skating, but my friend (who is a level 3 pole-dancer, which I assume means she is almost ready to transition into the Cardi B stage) wants to start taking classes at another school and start from the bottom. She invited me to take drop-ins with her, and going back to the aforementioned general neediness of my character- I have taken up the idea quite enthusiastically. I am going to do everything. EVERYTHING. Except, probably get a stable job, house, husband and child. I'm doing all the other things though. Most of them. Like 10%.


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