Lately I don't think I've really been feeling like myself. Which is strange, again, because whenever I really start wonder about how I "feel": about life, love, where my life is headed, what I am doing right now, etc: I usually conclude that I just don't feel much of anything.
The other day, just before going to work (all my form applications sent out online haven't scored me a job yet, but I remain hopeful), I was feeling very "twentysomething". Not particularly some kind of quarter-life crisis where I decide everything I've ever done wasn't really me. Just started wondering why I didn't see my friends more, if they didn't hang out with me, if it's just a change from college and walking down the hall (and really, did I even do that very often in college?) to actually having to spend money to go see somebody. Then I starting thinking how tired I already was about everyone I knew. Everything being said was inane, all this complaining about problems that aren't really problems was just a sneaky way of affirming how much better/wiser/more naive/more innocent/more special/more artsy/more whatever-the-hell you are. But what did I have to complain about? My rent? Which would sound like a sneaky way of saying "my problems are so much more grown up and REAL than yours are, because money is involved.".
So I'm just not winning it this weekend.
At work, though, as much as it blows (it's kind of like having any other job where you shake people's hands, only as a busser, it's kind of like they spit in their hand first, and then shook), I felt a lot better because I can distract myself with actually WORKING and doing something and not sitting around in my lonely house feeling sorry for myself and awkward about the world. All drive and no direction.