ps

what I forgot to mention in the last post is:

I'm sorry.

you know who you are and why. 

Intention and why none of this matters

I hate Intention. Seriosuly. It's that niggling little word that means poeple can be pissed off even if you didn't mean it to happen.

let's face it folks, I'm a fairly shallow pool. what I say is basically the sarcastic what you get. don't try to read deeper meaning into it cause there isn't.

what baffles me and what is striking me this week in particular, is the obsession with minute. whether it;s three sentences or one minute of tape or one day or one hour or one look or one tone, it's all meaningless- sure life may be in the details but the details aren't life.

I dunno. I've had a week. after spending an entire day yesterday hearing the life stories of people who experienced somethign horrific at the Indian Residential school here, it's hard to take any of this seriously. who gives a damn if someone is a little miffed at me? who cares if I have 6 bucks left in my bank account? what does it matter if my feet hurt, or I'm sleepy, or the girl downstairs is blaring her music? what right do I have to not talk to my family, pout, whine, or complain? I was never taken away from my parents and culture, beaten and abused, raped and struck and dehumanized and then released back into the limbo between the white world and the native world and told to survive in some fashion when no one believed or accepted me. after that, all of this, even this blog, seems self indulgent, petty, and utterly ridiculous and shamefull.

I'm taking to my bed. I'll re-emerge when I can muster up some generation Y self-absorbed angst. 

I'm getting an inkling about why I'm in the handbasket and where we're going....

SO I have an announcement:

I am officially directionless.

oh yes. I know. let's take a moment and watch every fiber of my father's being twitch as one of his offspring (albeit the disapointing one ;)) declares that no, she refuses to plan ahead. she reneigs on her long standing 10 year plan, and resists the urge to create elaborate outlines of where adn how and why she'll be at any point in the future. I embrace apathy, take a big bite out of misdirection, and most importantly take a big jump into the present, leaving the realm of hurry-hurry future behind.

why?

because trying to live up to that constant plan making is making me CRAZY. I've been doing it since I was 12. Seriously. I was the only kid I knew who was looking at univerisites the summer before grade 10. I vividly remember googling univerisities, comparing programs, and sending away for information packet after orientation booklet from my father's office where I was ansering phones. I remember feeling this pressure to figure it out, figure it out now, for the love of god figure it out at all costs and sort it all neatly into a pile so you can categorically make a logical, vulcan like decision before your 15th birthday! 

I do believe this whole process not only involved star trek references but spreadsheets.

As god as my witness, I will never spread sheet again!

Ironically this whole backpeddle on my whole life sequence happened right when suddenly, it looked like I had a clear, easy plan to follow, for the first time in a year.  See, I tried to murder th gerbil and step off the treadmill last August when I fled the west. but rreally, that didn't last.

I think it took me 6 weeks before I was back to journalism, actively looking for work. It only took my dad 3 weeks of me home before he was setting up interviews through friends for me, offerign to pay for teachers college, and urgin gme to get out there and get a life as soon as possible- provided of course it was within half an hour of home and they'd have keys to my apartment, which they would decorate, in a job that would pay me a wage he approved of, and would allow me to come home every other weekend.

but I digress. fastforward almost one year- I've tried very hard to be planless, and have failed miserably. I have festered with angst over where my jobs going, and what's going to happen if and when M and I part ways and I'm roommate less. I've fretted over what to do and where to go next, and simmered with jealousy over the advancements of people I graduated with. I've even burbled with rage when J tells me off hand that if I should move to the T-dot, what makes me think I can get a job, when stars from our year are unemployed. (yeah that one hurt- as clearly in the eyes of J, I'm horrible at this...thanks. awesome. particularly coming from someone who's a)never really read or seen much of my work in the last year or so and b)isn't evne in this industry and finally c) (since i'm pissing people off in this rant) just had a little pat-on-the-back fest with V about how the two of them are rocking their newfound, none journalism careers.)

again I digress.

So finally, my life starts to sort out. I start kicking the metaphorical shit out of my current job. Rocking it, as such. andthere are plans for the future from the higher ups for that paper and they seem to includ eme. I'm writing appointments in my book for months in the future and planning things like back-to-school features for September and Halloween ideaas for October and only-jew-in-rural-ns spots for December. 

and it's throughally freaking me out. 

because here's the thing: I like my job. don't get me wrong. some days I even LOVE my job. but I can see this being a life. I can see myself here, building, advancing, transforming myself and the paper and making it something new. I can see myself moving out there, settling down, and waking up one day 45 and with a life that in no way resembles the life I invisioned for myself since I was 9 year old. 

part of this was spurred on by an interview with three retiring teachers, who were talking about travelling and pursuing interests and hobbies they haven't had tiem for in the last 30-plus years. 

I do not want to be in my 50's and looking back wishing or wondering! I want my life back! I need my life back! and my life requires freefalling!

that's right, I said it. in order to live my life, at 23, I need to take a breath, jump off the cliff,a nd not give a damn about how I land or if I will be mangled and torn or caught by a friendly bush.

so here's the new non-plan: I'm going to rock this job until my lease is up. then I don't know. I'll find it when I'm there. Maybe I'll travel. Maybe I'll move. Maybe I'll stay. who knows? M's going to take off, and the door is going to open. my safety net, of friends and roommate, will be whiped out from under me as people move on. And I'll need to shake off the paralisis, and take that leap again, no matter how it scares me. terrifies me in fact. I can't keep stressing aobut what will happen because I can't change it anyway, and all that does is terrify me. I need to embrace the fear (yeah that's a bit cliche) for once, again. I need to not care what happens. and go and enjoy. I've had my safe little cocoon break,a nd I needed that, and I'm giving myself 6 more months.

but here me now, oh ye gods of the internet: Janurary 1, 2009, I have no idea what I'm doing and THAT'S OK!!