changing underwear
about ten minutes ago i paid my rent a day late. i've been contemplating giving my two months notice as i'm finding myself in desperate need of change... especially in the physical sense. the simple fix of colouring or cutting one's hair just seems so superficial now. i'm sick of walking into a bar and knowing the regulars... i'm sick of knowing the coffee shop attendants names while having them serve me my coffee before i order... i'm sick of walking around this city and recognizing when a tree has been removed and then wonder why it has. i'd like to move. where to? what for? would i like it? when does it stop?
my parents accuse me of fearing commitment. at 27 going on 28, their daughter is someone who doesn't seem to enjoy stability of any kind. they say i change cities, career directions, apartments, and boyfriends like they're underwear.
they blame society for the pressures put upon us as generation x'ers. i mostly blame those greedy baby boomer bastards who won't retire and share the wealth.
either way, it makes me happy that i'm born into a generation where it is socially acceptable to blame others for your failure.
my parents accuse me of fearing commitment. at 27 going on 28, their daughter is someone who doesn't seem to enjoy stability of any kind. they say i change cities, career directions, apartments, and boyfriends like they're underwear.
they blame society for the pressures put upon us as generation x'ers. i mostly blame those greedy baby boomer bastards who won't retire and share the wealth.
either way, it makes me happy that i'm born into a generation where it is socially acceptable to blame others for your failure.
8 Comments:
Pusher, remember when we were garbage women? Now that was the peak of our careers. We were mavericks in the waste sector. The morning maggots were always so humbling and our parents must have been proud.
that's funny indeed. i wish we would have taken pictures... my memory fails me far too frequently and that's a memory i want to take to the grave... gardener/ garbage women. what a strange summer that was. i can still remember the day the dry cleaning man arrived to the southwest one garden and said to us "i bet you girls wish you went to university now!" (or something like it). those baby boomers just have no idea!
we should have walked around with our degrees taped to our backs.
Ok, here's a question...
Where do you keep your degree? but better yet where is the most interesting/useful place you can imagine keeping/hanging your degree?
I think my degree is in an empty drawer in an unused dresser at my parents place. It rests in a hand-made, and slightly worn envelope that I used to hand in my print-making projects. I can't be positive, but this is the image that is coming to me.
The t-shirt concept sounds like an great idea. Maybe there is money to be made in t-shirts. Have we found our next million?
my degree? lets see... after dragging it across the world to korea, storing it in a desk drawer far too small for it's size, having it wrinkle, rip and tear at the corners, spilling a large glass of water on the surface and then defacing it... I threw it into a garbage can in Seoul.
I've been meaning to buy a new one. But like you, I'd have no idea what to do with it. I think the t-shirt is the best idea.
That is a good story ... I think that that should be printed on your t-shirt as well.
if you get a chance, come by and see me at my old work today... i'm going to be there until closing i think. BingYan is going to ottawa so she's asked me to cover the library.
Some people thrive on the knowing the intimate details of a city, town, house, garden, or toiletbowl brush. My brother knows every blade of grass in his garden. He can spout off the names of all the different plants and little critters that wander through, including the medicinal value of them if you toss them into a blender in certain combinations. He really digs that kind of knowledge and intimacy within his surroundings.
I'm a bit more like you. I've got a severe case of A.D.D (Ambition Deficit Disorder / Adventure aDdiction Disorder). I love to hear the stories from someone like my brother and can really appreciate it coming from someone else. But I get bored out of my mind with those kind of details in my own life. I'd rather experience many things in little ways rather than little things in many ways.
I thought I had a point to make here...
Oh yea. Here it is. Take it from a fellow underwear changer (and a bloody baby boomer) - embrace your wanderlust...it makes for a facinating life.
Cheers!
agoraphobia: a morbid fear of open spaces.
i love the open spaces... it allows me to run every which way like a chicken with its head cut off... stopping at nothing, changing its course as it sees fit before ceasing to exist.
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