Contributor: City Girl
This topic really has me stumped. I'm really good at bitching about life and complaining about the many many things I have done wrong since graduating, but I'm not so great at pin-pointing the things I'm proud of. The main problem comes from the fact that things I was proud of at the time have become things I now consider mistakes. For example, spending money that I would now very much like to have back in my bank account on the acting program I was in over the summer. I was super pscyhed to be accepted and thought I had totally kicked ass, but since returning to the city I realized that I no longer want to be an actor, so now I consider it a waste of time and money.
Oh, but there was that time when I...no wait.
Oh, but then I did start going to the gym and...nope, didn't do that either.
But I did start eating better and...nevermind, also didn't do that.
Um, I haven't had a cigarette in ten days. Does that count? I'm sure I'll break down again eventually, because I don't think there is such a thing as "quitting" for a smoker. For the time being I'm pretty happy with myself for holding out for this long, since it was part of my New Years resolution, but even thinking about how I'm proud of myself for not smoking makes me think of smoking and makes me want to light up.
I guess I'm pretty proud of myself for landing this internship, which I do like for the most part. I can't fully feel good about it for a few months when I find out if it really did lead to a job with a steady pay check and health insurance or if I'll be moving back home to live with my cats in my parents' basement, but for now I'm pretty happy about it.
I also think it's pretty cool that we said we were going to start a blog and we actually did. Go team!
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2 comments:
:D
You remind me of a scene I wrote for my senior thesis novella:
“You know what she said to me yesterday?” Jen struck her zippo as we walked down the block in the dark.
I loved the sound of zippos. The click-click, click. I had never had one. Never even struck one. But I was in love with the noise.
“I thought you were quitting.” Which, to be honest, she told me at least once a week.
Jen glared at me and let the wind blow out her light. “I am,” she mumbled around the cigarette. She struck the zippo again. “This is me quitting.”
“How’s that going?”
“Good.” She exhaled and smoke rose up around us. “This is only my third pack of the month.”
Yeah, that sounds like me quitting. Only this is honestly the longest I have gone without a cig in 5 years.
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