ah, the late twenties

lately i have been wondering what i will do in 10 years.

with a lovely boy, fantastic friends, summer around the corner and a good-enough job, i am able to look to the future. i have learned this about myself: until all my immediate ducks are in a row, i can't even imagine looking forward.

as a bartender, i have an expiry date. i can go into management, or open my own place. that's about it. in about 5 years i will be too tired to work 'til 3 am, forcing me to take a job with less money but more humane hours. past that, as a female, and your looks "fade" (what a heartbreaking word to describe aging), you are basically useless.

as i smoked my first cigarette of the day on my brand new deck, i began to wonder: what do i want to study? i feel it goes without saying that i have to go to school. so. what am i passionate about? what do i want to spend thousands of dollars, and hours, learning about?

it is always at this point that i begin to panic. i realize everything i am passionate about it useless in the "real world". loving music isn't a job. being a good friend isn't a career path.

i have toyed with journalism, social work, teaching...but the thought of actually doing any of that for a living after 3-7 years of school kinda makes me uncomfortable.

then i think about my grandparents. their options were so different, and especially for my gramma, so limited. and when did we all decide that our careers had to be our passions? that is what hobbies are for, no? i mean, i love my work but i wouldn't say i am passionate about it. why am i comfortable serving douchebags jager bombs, but the thought of teaching a class of 4th graders makes me itchy?

ultimately, the longer i go humming and hawing, the more limitations i am creating for myself. i turn 29 in ten days. it is not old, but i am hardly truly young. i have sore feet and i start yawning at midnight. i am not running out of time but i am running out of steam.

so. maybe the question shouldn't be, what am i passionate about. perhaps, more realistically, the question is: what can i see myself being content with?

...and i'm a drama-holic.

for as long as i can remember, "drama" has been a part of my life. i was a dramatic child; my father was intensely so; my mother would remain calm 'til she finally exploded; my sister and i had epic battles covering the entire house.

throughout school, theatrics were unavoidable. every crush was the love of your life and girls just tore each other to shreds at the drop of a hat...the tears seemed to be endless, for me at least.

i think it was near the end of high school for me, so the late '90s/early '00s, when the actual term "drama" became part of our vernacular. i blame mary j. blige. suddenly boys were complaining girls were it, girls were claiming they weren't, and everyone was trying to avoid it.

i, while never wanting to admit it, felt uncomfortable when everything was calm. in my house, all that meant was something HUGE was coming. if days went by and dad was happy and mom was quiet and i wasn't in trouble, then the next storm was gonna be a doozy.

i have tried so damn hard to change. and while getting older and hormones balancing have helped, i've come to realize this is the one drug i can't seem to shake.

my addiction to the rollercoaster of my life terrifies me. it fucks my shit up. which, as we all know, is what differentiates casual usage and addiction. work is affected, my friendships are affected, family, and---it could go without saying but won't---my relationships are ruined by it. maybe if i let myself get it all out when i can feel it bubbling under the surface, but instead i try to stifle it. after all, i learned in grade 10 how much boys hate drama. "girls are crazy", they all insist(ed). and no girl wants to be crazy.

so i try and push it away. but i also tend to pour booze on it. and POOF! like throwing a cigarette on a gas leak, i explode...i used to yell. i used to slam doors and cry and insist i hated my parents. now, i shut down.

this scares me even more. i can feel the rage taking over my entire body. i know it's irrational, which makes me even angrier. but i can't let him/her/them see it. so usually i tear up. nothing makes me cry faster than anger. now i'm embarrassed, now i'm doing another shot, now you aren't even in the room anymore and i feel justified.

the thing is, i'm too damn old for this shit. the relationships that are being affected, i'm not willing to lose. i'm sick of being the drunk girl throwing a fit for some reason that doesn't exist. things in my life are fantastic. i have incredible friends, a great job, and an amazing man. things are good. i'm happy. things are calm. and with none of the old instigators around to shake things up, my subconscious leaves it to me. but now, it's time to let it go.

aaaand SCENE!