From ends come new beginnings.

The big word on the street (and when I say street, I mean among my friends and acquaintances) is that I got a job.  I feel like some of the monumental weight that has been on my shoulders the last month can finally ease some.  There are still many more things I need to accomplish, nay, that sounds too grand a word, let’s bring it down a level and just bluntly state “get done.”  There are still many more things I need to GET DONE.  Like, save my earnings so I can move to the City.  Replace what tangible  items I lost in breaking up with Jonathan.  Move forward with my application to DePaul and beginning my education in Public Policy.  Life waits for no one, so how come we wait for other people?  courtesy?  It’s the polite thing to do?  I would say that yes, that is part of it, until a certain point.  How much should we be willing to put on the shelf to see our loved ones excel?  This is an idea I still struggle with because I am not sure I know the answer.  It is somewhere between where I am now, and what I was a year ago.

Last Thursday my computer took her last breath.  Or in more technological terms, she shut down for the last time.  The hard drive had countless errors, and after talking to several different people, the general consensus is that she was at the end of her life.  Aside from the hard drive, her battery was warped, the keyboard was dysfunctional, and the mouse sensor was diminished and all but gone completely.  I am working from my dad’s desktop and I can say I do not like it.  I appreciate the use of it.  But it’s not the same as having your own computer.  A place where you do not feel guilty about storing pictures or music.  Something you can dress up or down, personalize to your own taste.  (And it’s moments like this that I realize how spoiled I am, so no need to point that out.)  And it has been kind of devastating for me.  The loss of a computer, and the valuable information on it, is like losing a friend.  But more so for me, it feels like yet another reminder that I am here, back home, living with my parents and not engaged anymore, not on my own.  I know I am taking steps to fulfill my dreams, but as each day passes it has not and does not get easier for me to squat here.  There is a certain feeling of disappointment (remember when your mother would say, “I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed,” as she looked down on you slightly aghast?).  I just wish at twenty-five I had more to show for myself.  Not just a failed relationship.  I have to snap out of this, remove myself from this frame of mind and realize I have many great qualities.  (Or so I have been told.)  Okay, self-deprecating rant at an end.

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