13 Things That Make Me Feel Like the Crypt Keeper

I graduated a couple of months ago. I immediately began working full-time at my job (an English major with a full-time job in her field right out of college…suck it haters) and found myself settling into a routine that made me feel older and older.

Now, my roommate (who’s the same age as me) and I have come up with a list of things that make us feel older than our driver licenses tell us we are.

  1. I got a full-time desk job.
  2. I set up up a retirement plan (401K).
  3. I have to schedule my grocery trips days in advance because I’m too busy.
  4. I need to schedule repairs on my house and every time I do, I have to decide if it’s worth taking time off work or living with whatever’s broken.
  5. I see my best friend, who I live with, more during our lunch breaks than at home.
  6. When I spend time with friends, it often includes things like doing taxes together or having them help me set up a 401K.
  7. I get really interested in podcasts now.
  8. A trip to Lowe’s for a new light fixture is something I’ll be excited about for days.
  9. I use “I have to get up in the morning” as a real, bonafide reason not to do things during the week.
  10. I use my weekends to furiously clean, do laundry, grocery shop, and sleep.
  11. In a similar vein, I don’t like to drink on Saturday night because I have too many things to get done on Sunday morning to be hungover.
  12. When my roommate and I searched for a new place to live, a yard was the top priority.
  13. I drink my coffee black now because I don’t have the time, money, or metabolism to deal with adding sugar and milk.

Bonus: A couple things that still make me feel like a child:

  1. The thought of having children is completely terrifying.
  2. I don’t know how major house functions work. (Had to call my dad the other day to inquire about what a water shut off valve was and where I might find it. He nailed it.)

Sometimes Things Happen

Sometimes things happen that cannot be easily explained. You don’t have a box in which to put this particular slice of life.

You wonder why it happened. You can wonder all you want, for days, weeks, months, yet you’ll never find an answer because there isn’t one. And then you can ask yourself other questions in an attempt to feed your craving for an answer. “Did I create this experience? Did I make it happen?

The answer is of course no. There are many times in your life in which you experience things that are out of your control. And that’s the goal, yeah? To take away control? Funny how sometimes a person will crave the control they lack so badly.

And when the experience is over and you’ve found no box to place it in, what do you do? This is always uncomfortable. You find yourself needing to both think about it constantly and forget it completely. What a strange sensation. Should you modify your behavior? Should you staunchly reserve the right to continue your behavior exactly as is? I suppose there’s no reasonable answer to this.

Is there an official moment when you declare “This situation is over. We don’t have to think or talk about it anymore,”? I think people would claim no such date exists, but I think otherwise. I think there will come a day when an unspoken agreement comes between the community and me that we will no longer be talking about this thing that happened, where any more discussion would be deemed too much.

I like that idea, that in a way there is a box in which I can put it. Not a box of reason, but of time. There will come a day when I say my penance has been done. I have talked of it, thought of it, dreamed of it enough. My mind can be at peace now.

Life is funny in many ways. Generally not ha-ha funny, but the other kind. The kind that makes you say “Huh…I didn’t see that coming.” Life is neither bad nor good at its base. It simply is.


[This post was originally written in the summer of 2015. It is only being posted now.]
This was originally something that felt too personal to share. Funny, since it reveals almost nothing, but to me. It felt personal and raw, yet it comes across as reserved and noncommittal to me now.

The answer to my question above is not as I had hoped. As of yet, I have found no limit to the thoughts. Discussions have lessened, though. And yes, I do think of it less now. But it hasn’t gone away. The nagging feeling of what could have been. What was so close to being. That has stayed. Perhaps 6 months is not enough time. Or perhaps this is a thought that I will carry with me forever.