Essen, Jura, Denken (Eating, Law, Thinking), aka this thing that you are reading, has been a great online support for me. I express my thoughts, I have a sprinkling of followers and people on facebook sometimes read what I have to write. This post is long, but it’s been a week in the making.
It makes me happy that people take time out of their busy days to read my things- it’s flattering, even if it is just another excuse not to start that tax reading (hey- I absolutely feel you I WRITE posts to avoid general adulthood all of the time).
Sometimes I’m complaining, sometimes I’m happy, sometimes I post far too many pictures of cats and recipes that I will never make. Like limoncello, which I realize requires a lot of vodka the purchase of which requires a real, constant paycheck.
Sometimes, though I try really hard not to reach out and tell personal feelings- generally I later delete or regret or look at and say- “this isn’t a Xanga account, people don’t want to read about your personal voyage of feelings.”
I feel like sometimes this helps people though. Runners. Law students. People that are just depressed. People in a New City. Poor people. Under confident people. Midwesterners. I am all of those people and these types of people need people who are people like me/them.
A lot of things have changed since I started EJD you know? Growing up? It’s not that great yet it is SO great. Not that I can’t do awesome things like eat bags of candy, spend all of my money on ridiculous footwear, go on wild drinking binges and not exercise for months on end, stay in my room and talk to literally not ONE single person for weeks, roll my eyes at authority figures - as an adult I can literally do ANYTHING. It’s just that now I realize those actions have consequences. The dual awesome/awful nature of it all. Thrilling.
Most times these things are MY fault and my consequences to save and sort through at a later time, or sometimes they don’t wait and I have to actually face them with a sinking stomach and sweaty palms.
Being an adult is looking at what I am doing and making changes.
Too much candy? Get RID of it, out of your house… check.
No gym time? Spend 90 dollars of my hard earned babysitting money to sign up for a half marathon. Money is SO precious to me that I simply have to do the half marathon. Check.
Confidence down? Start writing/blogging/reading things about inspiring woman/sign up for said half marathon. Check
Bad Temper? Switch Meds. Check.
Want to participate in class? Read. Check.
No, I will not stop drinking, not stop recreational drug use, I will not stop staying out late, I will not stop exploring the limits of my body or putting myself in semi-awkward situations. I will have a terrible temper and other annoying little things. And I’ll never be short and cute and I really just need to stop wearing 5 inch heels because no one ever wanted to date a giraffe.Even though I think I look fucking GREAT in them- maybe they are better for prancing around my bedroom dancing to Rupaul’s WORK IT than out on the icy street of NYC. My long awaited point isIt’s fun to make mistakes and though twenty five is oldER it’s not a death sentence on self-exploration and fun (NO age should be as a matter of fact) - yet I do have to start taking responsibility because it’s not my only mom or Mrs. Watts my first grade teacher I am going to disappoint when I get a bad grade or do something professionally dumb, there are real, legitimate consequences for which I am solely responsible.
However, this responsibility taking is not near as bad as another part of adulthood- and that is the awful, hard, terrible realization that sometimes you will do everything perfectly and in the best way you possibly can and it will still fizzle out. It will. It happens. Everything your parents tell you about being a good person- well, they left out the part that, even IF you are the best person on the planet, people don’t care. You will get hurt. Sometimes.
I don’t want to go into detail or send bad vibes to people, but this happened to me with people, semi-recently. I found myself asking myself, asking them- am I boring? Did I gain weight? Was I really THAT mean? Am I starting to smell like an old woman already? Are my law school friends pretentious? Am I just that crazy? As a law student that boring? At 25 no longer sexy? No longer fun to go to clubs with and get free drinks?
I am hip, dammit, I tried to say to myself, sounding like a 90 year old woman convincing herself she could still get jiggy with it.. I thought of all of the things I could have done wrong and I could do better. Certain things came up absolutely, but generally nothing really came up. In the grand scheme of things I think I am above average at most of my undertakings.
But still the lingering doubt.
Also the enormous crushing fear of being alone- I am not religious and I really don’t want to spend the time fooling myself into being such again, so the fear of being alone is more carnal than ever.
Was I SUCH a boring little rod?
Should I start wearing tight tops and eating the tops of celery (WITHOUT peanut butter) so I could fit into these tops? Get a weave? Learn an instrument? A sexy language ?( I am bilingual people but German is not sexy) Read wikipedia on the reg and pretend I know things? Become a drug dealer so at least people would like me for the drugs? Did I need BOTOX already?? Should I stop talking about how fascinating and complex the defense of rapists is? Exclusively listen to ONLY Billboard top 100 songs? Acquire a street name? (I’ve thought about this extensively).
Suddenly, it came to me. The fears and reasons that caused these people to act this way, had little to do with me or what I was doing with my life. Some to do, maybe, but little. Very little. Certain things are unacceptable.
Ending a friendship over e-mail. Unacceptable.
Freaking out about one comment I’ve made. Unacceptable.
Telling other people lies about me. Unacceptable.
This is what I learned. Certain things are not my fault. If someone is no longer interested in me in a romantic capacity or friendship capacity and I’ve examined everything and I am HONEST with myself (which is hard but it’s doable) and there is nothing really wrong, then it’s not my fault.
I think that hurts worse than any responsibility for any mistake I’ve ever made. Because, I mean, at least I fucked up and deserve it. It’s hard to face the cold, hard truth of being a good person, and sometimes it not mattering. It’s colder than the D, that’s for sure.
For a second I thought this was a green light to go ahead and get really sexy, obtain a lot of friends through match.com or whatever the friend version of match.com may be, and just post sick pix all over my tumblr, facebook, NEW twitter account and instagram account, where my new name would be along the lines of: LIVINMAHLIFE!BITCHZYOLO! or something like that. My transformation would be complete only when I was a total bitch to all of my old friends and exes that did not fit to my standards.
Then I thought… ew.
Just because you get shit on sometimes, doesn’t mean you should stop being a good person all of the time. It’s not really about how other people feel- you should be a good person in part because people generally like good people, you will find new friends. More important than this is that you feel better yourself when you are a good person. About yourself. At the end of the day,even though your boyfriend told you you’re not intellectually stimulating, but you just killed it in class earlier- be nice. Stand up for yourself against him, but don’t get bitter. (This has nothing to do with my boyfriend by the way he’s fucking great-just girls’ largest complaints seem to be about men). Be at peace because you’re a good person. I think the adult version of a good person is not so much a doormat, is not so much a “nice guy/ girl” that actually requires reciprocation for being a good person- but the kind of person who is good because it makes THEM feel good- and it brings them peace at the end of the day. It’s the best version of being selfish that I can ever think of.
So that’s what I learned. I wanted to share it because I think other people have a hard time with learning this fact and turn into awful people because of one or two bad experiences. Then we have horrible bosses, stuffy, horny old men, vodka soaked divorcees, hoarders and Republicans. Because no one told them it was OK to sometimes get shit on. That they should stand up for themselves, but maybe lose the bitters.
I am just glad I learned this now- because though YOLO is and incredibly DUMB idiotic saying, but it’s true. Now, hopefully I can enjoy my youthful adultness with a little more ease. (EMYAWLME)