Friday, March 9, 2012

Time Traveling

While I was in college, I worked as an administrative assistant for a local CPA . I quit working for him full time in the summer of 2008, when I got my office manager gig. But, I would work Saturdays for him, and last tax season I worked for him full time in the interim between quitting my office manager job and moving to North Carlina.

Thankfully, he's never hired another assistant. Thankfully, it's tax season. Thankfully, because it means I have a more immediate source of income while I'm figuring out the "work from home" ropes.

I started on Wednesday, which was No Good, Very Bad Day from the moment the clock struck midnight. And as I sat at my old familiar desk,

and looked at my old familiar work load,

and my old familiar surroundings,

and my old office pal,

I shook my head and realized that I have teleported back to 2007-2008: recovering from a break up, living with my parents, questionable career path.

The only difference is that this time I don't weigh 130 lbs (ohhhh, that fantastic college diet of coffee, alcohol, and the occasional Chinese dinner). Oh, and I have bangs.

It's hard to not see this as a step backwards. Especially on weird days when everything from listening to ABBA's greatest hits to driving down 29 to making ramen makes me like, overcome.  Overcome with feelings.

Ugh, can we just talk about feelings? And why they always choose to avalanche on you in the most inconvenient moments?

Like, getting coffee.

You walk up to the register to order a chai latte, and you suddenly remember how good the chai lattes were somewhere else. Or that one chai latte you ordered on that one day where you could have changed the entire course of your life. And it makes you sad. Then you get angry for feeling sad. And then you feel guilty for feeling angry for feeling sad because you're supposed to feel sad during these days when you're moving on, and then mad for getting guilty for being sad, and then sad because you're beating yourself up over nothing but a vague memory. And then Sheryl Crowe's cover of First Cut is the Deepest comes on and suddenly you're crying at the register and to make up for the tears you unintentionally bark out your order and the barrista clerk looks at you like the Feelings Monster you have suddenly become:

Feelings Monster

Feelings can bite it.

I'm in a re-charge position in my life. The world doesn't stop just because I'm dealing with shit. It's amazing that I have such a wonderful landing pad. It's amazing that I have such wonderful people around me who keep lifting me up. And as soon as it gets better, it'll be amazing to walk in the sun again.

One of these days, I'll stop posting self-serving pity party entries like this. (fo' serious)

1 comment:

Illustrious Brown said...

Moving far, far away might solve all your problems. Then again, you'd probably still feel like you were living in the past, and probably wonder about all the "what ifs" on occasion, but you'd be a complete stranger with few friends in a place where one wrong turn takes you to somewhere new--this has its pluses and minuses.

No need to approve this comment--in fact, don't, it's just another quick pep talk from someone who's been there and isn't currently all sunshine in his own situation yet-- but I'm just saying: I think we all feel this way, whether it's from time to time, or more often than we'd like to admit. Being in a familiar place has a lot of pluses: people you know, familiar streets, free rent :). Being somewhere different can't really change how you feel, but it certainly reminds you that there ain't a whole lot you can do about it now, 2,500 miles away from that comfortable place we call home.

Like I've said before, keep your head up. It's always rough at first. Shit, maybe it's just always kind of rough. But time helps to numb the pain and help you get along with your life.

As a younger man I always marveled at older people's ability to be jaded. Now I feel I can partially understand. Life's a bitch, but at least you have a solid sense of humor, which definitely makes things a bit easier, because laughter cures everything--except cancer. Cancer is a bitch.

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