For the past week I have been holding an enormous amount of tension in my chest and in my shoulders. I’m not really sure why, work is ok, Chris is fine and we’re about to leave on vacation in two days. I think I feel like somehow I’m not progressing with my life at the pace I had hoped for myself, or the pace that most of my friends have been following.
Everyone is getting married. Everyone is finding the job of their dreams (or their most lucrative gig yet). Everyone is having babies. Everyone is buying houses.
Meanwhile, I sit on the couch rage-eating bagels and hate-watching Girls. Not because I think the show is terrrible, or because I can’t identify with any of the characters, but because even though they have the most fucked up lives ever–their lives are still more interesting and more fruitful than mine. I scrape by. I work second jobs and odd survey jobs, but all I do for fun is play video games, read on my kindle and judge people in coffee shops and on the train. Somehow the people on this show move forward in their shitty lives, by finding new boyfriends or getting married or moving or working out. I play Zumba Fitness on my Xbox and pretend that I’m going to a class at a gym. I sit on the train and imagine what it would be like commuting home with friends every day. I make poor people dinners for my boyfriend and I and dream of losing weight.
No, I'm not a hipster. 