I'm sitting at my desk right now. My own desk. In an office, and I'm wearing heels and slacks and my toenails are polished. I just stuffed, stamped and licked about 30 envelopes. I've got what seems like millions of file folders and paperclipped pages waiting to be set inside them covering said desk. Over and over again, I said that I never wanted to do office work. I never wanted a 9-5. In fact, the idea scared the hell out of me and I couldn't think of anything I would more passionately avoid. And now look at me.
There's that movie, "Say Anything," with John Cusack. At one point, he's having dinner with Diane's family and her dad asks Lloyd what he plans to do with his life. To which Lloyd replies with something along the lines of "I don't want to process anything bought or sold. I don't want to buy anything sold or processed. I don't want to sell anything sold, bought, or processed...." And so on. And that pretty much sums up what I've felt the last couple of years.
So, what am I doing? This is how it happens, you know? This is how free spirits and tree huggers and flower children ended up being corporate heads and other general business exec bastards. It starts as a job you don't love but don't mind and ends in a vacuum where your not-too-terrible job and your life have become the same thing.
Are people really ok with this? Does the cycle not bother them the way it does me? I understand that restlessness is for youth and maturity triggers some need to settle. Am I really the exception there or is the entire thought bogus and people are just too comfortable to realize how uncomfortable they really are?
Introspection is overrated. I've just been struck with the idea that if I'm not careful, I will be the kind of person I don't ever want to be.
I just got a spam email that asked me if I'm a real man. No, generated and randomly distributed email, I am not a real man. And it's not something I'm so interested in, so if you would take a second to think about the gender to which you are advertising and kindly take me off of your big huge list, it would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.

Evan might move to San Francisco. Maybe. Do I move with him? Mostly I want to book again. Disappear into the palm trees for a few more years. It's too much pressure and too much commitment and I'm not ready for this yet. I am not ready to be responsible for the happiness of someone else. Doesn't he know that I'm a totally and completely unreliable human being when it comes to personal relationships? I am stubborn, I am difficult, and I am tremendously concerned with how I am going to fulfill my chronic wanderlust. Understand that the wanderlust isn't something I'm looking to diffuse. I like it. I want it. I feed it and I will live it as much as I can.
But I haven't been to California, have I? What's to say that this won't just be another stop on the trail? Really, I will probably go with him. Because I don't have a single good reason not to. If it doesn't work out, I can leave. No harm no foul, aside from outrageous moving costs. In the end, money is money and I'll be able to make more and leave again if I need to.
Bah. Damn my twenties and the life decisions that accompany them.