Turning thirty wasn't a big obstacle in my life. It's not like something you can control, you just wake up one day and realize that you are a little bit older, but not a bit wiser. Am I happier for the lessons I've learned? Am I a better person for it? When exactly did I lose faith in happily ever after? I guess that's why I'm writing this, trying to figure out how I came to be the person I am and how I get to where I want to be.
I guess my biggest concern is if there is ever an end to the discontentment it seems most people around me have reached with their lives. I'm going to a matchmaker instead of meeting Mr. Right in a park on a sunny day. I'm writing a blog instead of the novel I dreamed of. I'm standing behind a counter being yelled at by people who want their drugs like they want a cheeseburger with fries instead of finding the cure for cancer. I'm coming home to a dog, a very, lovable cute dog (I have to give Zacky his due praise), instead of a partner. All these things tend to make me examine life and try to figure out exactly what went wrong. How do I learn to be content with what I have? Does everyone just decide to be so so happy when they get older? Do we all forget what we once wanted and just make do with what we have?
I stood behind my little counter yesterday, being yelled at again for circustances beyond my control, and yet again felt trapped. I make more money than I ever could have imagined as a young girl. I have accomplished what I set out to accomplish as far as career goals. When you don't have money when you are young, all you dream of is having enough to never have to worry about it again. The ironic thing is you realize when you get older that you spent most of your life in school trying to get to that momentous point and you aren't any happier. I stayed home to study instead of going to parties. I spent time in the library instead of finding actual hobbies. I wasn't worried about him (the One) because he was supposed to come along at some undetermined time in the future. He has forgotten to knock on my door so far and at the end of a work day I am far too tired to try to find him.
Maybe most of us are thinking the same thing, that if we accomplish the mundane tasks in our lives, excitement and happiness will eventually find us. Do I keep trudging along and hope that he finds me? Do I stand behind my counter and hope that customers stop yelling and just take their Prozac like good little children? Is it better to take action or just let life happen to you like it does in most children/s stories? These are all things I'm trying to figure out because I honestly don't know. Is it desperate to be looking for someone to share all this with? Women aren't supposed to act like we want for anything. We are supposed to be creatures of confidence, even if we have little reason to be. We are taught to complain very little and to accept what life has given us. Women who make more money than men are taught to downplay that as much as possible and to be content if their love life is lackluster. You can always buy a baby, right? Go the doctor and get knocked up because you have the money for it...see problem fixed. What if I want more?
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