Category Archives: Grownup stuff

It’s late Sunday night and I’m exhausted. I spent the whole weekend working thinking about doing some work and now I’m weak and drained. I realized that this job is causing me to put many of my plans on hold, including my plan to live a life of leisure. Not that I’m complaining (much). All is well on the managerial front. I’ve created spreadsheets for the first time since high school (me + Google Documents = <3), my desk is pretty clean (halle-freakin’-lujah) and so far, no one has yelled, cried or threatened to sue. Go me.

What else? Uhhhhhhhhhh … hmmmmmmm … errrrrrrrrrrrr. I dunno. I stayed at Matt’s house for a few days during the week. (The parentals are on vacay! Yes, we’re 15!) It’s always kind of weird when we’re together on work nights. He’s like all mean mature and stuff. Don’t ride the exercise bike. You’ll get all sweaty before dinner. Don’t lay on the floor. Help clean up. Blah blah blah. He says we have to practice being grownups. I guess he’s right. So I’ve been really trying to do that. And it’s been going OK. Today, I procrastinated on this story I need to write (minus 1) by cleaning my room (plus 1). I’m, like, par. Which is good, right?

I’m officially an adult now.

So why do I sometimes feel as if my insides are swishing around like I’m 19? My life is in place but I still feel antsy. Like I need to go to New York or Southeast Asia (or wherever people go when they feel this way) RIGHT THIS SECOND. Or maybe I just need to lock myself in my room with my Ally McBeal CD and a bottle of Arbor Mist for a little while. Man, I knew I couldn’t let a birthday go by without a proper breakdown.

I think it’s time to re-evaluate things. Is this who I am? What am I hungry for? Where do I thrive? What can I give? Who do I want to surround me?

Perhaps when I figure all this out, life will feel fresh again. As of now, it feels more like day-old pizza. Satisfying, but hardly cravable.

Quick plug: Need a job? Work at the Apple Store! Any location! My sister Carissa would like everyone to know that they are hiring for various positions. If interested, send your resume to carissawooATgmail.com. She’ll then personally hand it to The Jobster himself. Or something like that.

I told her I probably won’t be able to attract many takers. Unfortunately, all of my friends have, like, multiple degrees and shit. She understands.

She told me she’s already received a ton of resumes from her posting on Facebook. Apparently, there are many in her post-college circle who are out of work and frustrated. Yes, I remember that stage, that dark and seemingly endless tunnel of desperation. There’s a name for it, I believe. It’s called being 22.

She also said that most of the resumes she glanced at suck. Like, a headlining qualification would be: “Organized a bake sale for Kappa Kappa Theta sorority.” Or, they’ll pinpoint tiny details with statements like, “As a hostess, I occasionally refilled the napkin containers.” I couldn’t help but cringe a little.

You know why? Because I so was that applicant. When I was low on boba funds and needed to find me one of those things they called jobs, I didn’t know the first step. I partly blame my institution of higher education, where I learned how to put a condom on a cucumber in three seconds flat (Thanks Bio 45!), but was as puzzled as the rest of my peers whenever interviewers asked for a cover letter. (“Huh? Aren’t I just supposed to check off a box that says I’ve never been arrested?”)

I was particularly inept at interviewing. One time, when I was going for this waitressing job at some fancy restaurant, the forty-something-year-old manager asked, “Where do you see yourself in 10 years?” Without thinking, I looked at him and declared, “Hopefully not working at a restaurant.” Yeah, I really said that. And I wondered why I never got a call back.

Fortunately, after much mentoring from wiser, more experienced folks, I was able to convince (trick) some folks into hiring me. Today, I am fully employed and paddling through the sea of life like a responsible adult (who lives with her parents). I wouldn’t mind helping a few younger kids with the same painful process. Because yeah, I was one of them, stupid and confused. And it was just sad.

… grownup-style (Yes, that’s Clue)

More signs of aging:

– I’m planning my 26th birthday party and don’t know if we can handle more than one activity. It’ll be either dinner or drinks. No pre-partying, then dinner, then clubbing, then after-clubbing snacks, then after-partying, then a forehead-in-pancakes breakfast. That was so three years ago.

– As my girlfriends and I were brainstorming Halloween costume ideas, we came to the realization that we don’t have to look like hoochie mamas this year (although it’s always more fun).

- I completely forgot to swing by this party tonight because I was so caught up in “Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader?” That show is intense!