I’m 27 for a moment …
I’m 27 for a moment …
I just wrote this on Facebook and it ended up being really long for a status update. So now it’s a blog post. Voila! That’s called re-purposing, bitches. I can’t help it if I’m environmentally aware …
So the idea is that one of your Facebook friends gives you an age and then you say what you were doing then. I had to write about 27.
Just moved back to PA after being gone for a few years of living what amounts to that “Drops of Jupiter” song by Train. (Cannot wait for the comments on that one.)
Began what I like to think of as the “Trish as a Normal Person Experiment.”
Looked around to see what everyone else was doing, and decided to do that as well since clearly I was the biggest, most-directionless fuckup I knew.
Stopped writing unless it was for work.
Got an office job that I despised so much I used to walk to work every morning praying that the building would be on fire when I turned onto the street (although I sincerely hoped the building would’ve been empty when my hypothetical fire started).
Began shagging my future husband.
Began the “Domestic Bliss Experiment.”
Moved into a delightful but drafty carriage house that our slumlords refused to maintain.
Got drunk at Cora’s house at least every few weeks during her fabulous soirees.
Got a dog.
Went to a lot of parties where people demonstrated things that I was supposed to buy.
Made an enthusiastic but ultimately failed attempt at being a little homemaker type girl.
Fully embraced the idea that this person who I really was inside was just a big, selfish baby who clearly expected too much out of life … so I went about killing her. It almost worked.
Felt uncomfortable and phony in nearly every situation.
Got another job that was better … but awfully quiet and buttoned up for the girl I was in the process of murdering …
Met some fantastic people I am still honored to call friends even though I don’t see them as much as I would like.
Clipped recipes that I sometimes tried to make.
Felt constant guilt that the floor wasn’t vacuumed often enough to keep up with the dog hair.
Spent every spare moment that fall in bed reading the Harry Potter series for the first time.
Tried to figure out what happened to me.
Tried to follow a plan that I thought was supposed to work for everyone.
Believed that since my life looked pretty good on paper, I didn’t really have anything to complain about. In fact, I was lucky.
Didn’t quite kill the girl inside, even though I did a pretty good job of shutting her up for a few years. But ultimately, she put up a pretty good fight.
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