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January 09, 2005
I'm a daaay planner, a Sunday driver, yeah.
This past summer, I was in the bookstore in Boothbay Harbor, Maine with my sister and my cousin, browsing for art supplies because we’d gotten it into our heads that we wanted to play with crayons, when lo and behold, what should I stumble across but a cute, tiny day-planner for 2005.
It was about the size and shape of a cassette tape, with a plain black leatherette cover, and all sorts of information inside -- metric conversions, complete miniature highway maps of the entire U.S., first aid tips -- it seemed small enough and useful enough that even I, who have never successfully used a day planner for more than about a week, might be happy to tote it around. I knew buying it five months before 2005 was risky, because it could easily end up in the bottom of some pile or other, forgotten entirely until some time in 2007. But. Like I said; it was cute. And only about six bucks. So I bought it.
And you know what? I totally didn’t lose it. It’s right here in my hot little hand in the second week of January. I’m feeling good about that, like it bodes well for becoming a more organized person in the coming year. I can now always be the one who always knows the answer to those commonly asked questions, like, “How many scrupoes are in a dram?” (“Why, three, of course,” I’ll answer, after consulting the Apothecaries’ Weights section of my handy day-planner.)
Hey, you know what else this day planner has? It has one of those completely over-generalized, useless charts of average height/weight ratios. And apparently for a 25- to 29-year-old woman of 5’7” I am on-the-dot average. Who’d have thunk? I don’t know if I’ve ever been average before, at anything. This is a new experience for me. I have spent much of my life, past the age of 14, trying very hard to not be average. Ah well. You win some, you lose some.
Back to the day-planner. I’m very excited to begin using it. I’ve already gone through and filled in all of the key dates over the next eight months: my trip to Mexico in March, my brother’s graduation, Patrick’s sister’s wedding and Claire and Nick’s commitment ceremony, my wedding in August.
But the thing is, after that, I’ve got nothing. The horizon of my life just kind of drops off in mid-August, like those old maps of the flat earth -- drops off into a stylized ocean of swirling sea monsters and mythic beasts -- I can almost see the intricate calligraphy: The Great Unknown.
And the thing is, The Great Unknown could end up being The Great Mundane. Because it’s entirely possible that I’ll just go on a brief honeymoon and come back to Philadelphia and stay at my same job for another couple of years, until I go ahead and figure out what’s next. But see, I’ve pretty much been saying that “This job is what I’m doing until I figure out what I’m doing next” since I accepted it -- two and a half years ago.
This job was never something I decided on or strived for. It basically fell into my lap. And sure, it’s treated me well, which is why I’m still here after two and a half years, and why it really wouldn’t be the end of the world if I just came back from my honeymoon and stayed.
But there’s part of me that’s keeping that horizon blurry for a reason, and it’s that for now, I need to feel like change is still possible. Like there’s a chance that a year from now, my life will be new and exciting and completely different from my life now.
Don’t get me wrong. My life now isn’t a bad scene or anything. I count my blessings often: Great boyfriend who’s gonna be my husband soon, job that’s pretty interesting and that gives me all kinds of treats, like health insurance and a gym membership and free designer glasses. Cool friends, and a nice family, and Netflix to keep me well stocked with good movies to watch, and the Free Library with good books to read, and Fleisher to let me take all the art classes I want for 30 bucks.
I suppose it’s just something in human nature that keeps us searching. Perpetual dissatisfaction. Moments of real contentment and fulfillment come so few and far between, and the rest of the time we’re like junkies trying to score that one perfect high. But the recipe keeps changing. We tell ourselves that everything would be perfect if we just had a boyfriend, or a new house, or a new job, or if we lost 30 pounds or if we moved to Iceland. But then one by one, we get the boyfriend, we buy the house, we land the job, we lose the weight, we move to Reykjavik. And one by one, the initial high is followed by the inevitable “Aaaand, now what?”
I mean, people, there’s a reason why the phrase “Been there, done that” has outlived most other annoying catch phrases of the early 90’s. We’re not still running around saying, “Homie don’t play dat” or “Those jeans look great on you... Psych!!” No, “Been there, done that,” I imagine, will be with us for quite a while, because its truth is basic to the human condition.
And with that, I’m outy. This entry is so five-minutes-ago. Psych!!
Posted by sarah at January 9, 2005 11:05 PM
