Nic Notes

The quarterlife crisis

I figured life after college would suck, in some way, shape or form. I had been warned about the super scary “real world” the place where people are mean and you most definitely cannot hand papers in late, ever. Or so I was told. It’s not the “real world” that has sucked. That part hasn’t been so biting. The part that has sucked has been me, and I totally didn’t expect that.

The people, they’re the same as they were in college, but for the most part, not soaked in alcohol. The bills, the taxes, the expenses – all expected. I was lucky in the health insurance department, but many people my age get completely screwed in that area.

When I left college, I had plans. I was going to live in an apartment furnished by IKEA. Sleek and bright and comfortable and fun and all mine. But then there was the whole deal with getting a job. I got one, near home, and out the door went my IKEA dream.

But the problem wasn’t living at home. I see my dad roughly the same amount as I did in college when I lived four hours away, though the costs are a little higher.

Nope, the problem is me.

You see, I had my dream of an apartment and a cool job, preferably one where I got to travel. That didn’t happen. I have an interesting job, there’s no doubt about that. But I don’t like it. I live in a perpetual state of being awkward. My suits don’t fit correctly, wearing high heels for 10 hours makes me want to claw someone’s eyes out, wearing pantyhose for 10 hours a day makes me want to wear them over my head and rob a Leggs/Hanes/Bali store, my hair gets frizzy and looks just like it did when I was two immediately after I walk into the building, I get nervous talking in front of people, I feel insecure 1,430 minutes a day, etc. and yeah, it’s just me.

I live a pretty good life. I’m lucky. Materially, I’m completely spoiled although it doesn’t stop me from wanting more. I am educated, I have healthcare, family and friends, etc. But right now… Right now, I’m kinda hating life.

And from what I gather, it’s perfectly normal.

First jobs? Well, apparently they’re like a stanky elevator on the way to something better. Oh, and you have no freaking clue which floor to get off on?

Dating? Men abound in college. They’re in your age group. They’re roughly the same maturity level (ha!). Outside of college, the guys in our realm (read: single, straight, and without prison records) are difficult to find, which doesn’t even take into account that you have to weed out the assholes.

Marriage? All of your friends are either married, engaged, or expecting to be engaged any minute now. I have two friends from college I can guarantee will not be married in the next year and that’s about it. One is partly due to gay marriage being not being legal, the other is due to her not being of the marriage mindset, like me. She’s my favorite. But yes, right now we’re all inundated with thoughts of marriage and settling down. And there is some pull to do that, but people, I am young, and selfish, and entirely not ready to settle down. And yes, at the moment it looks like I will have at least four weddings to attend next summer, and I fully expect another round of engagements before Christmas. Oh, and they’re all at different times and in two different seasons, and two are familial so I can’t wear the same outfit. Wait, wait, to make it even better, two are being held where I work. I have to find a date I can drag to all of this stuff soon… And freaking Jcrew.com is showing a picture of the dress in the center, but they do not sell it and I need it.

Body? WTF is my body doing to me? I have acne again, just like when I was 12. My uterus hates me. My ovaries hate me. My tastes have changed. I can now stomach foods, like cottage cheese, red peppers and others I never would have sampled before. My sweet tooth is dying down. It’s strange… My stomach will never be completely flat. I have to pluck my chin, wax my brows and quite frankly spend an inordinate amount of time grooming.

Emotions? All over the freaking place.

Friends? It’s the only thing that makes me miss living in a dorm. I had my awesome roommates and incredible girls down the hall. It’s so fun having your life synced with people, now it just doesn’t happen. They’re all great amazing people and I wish I could spend time with them and that we didn’t live in different areas and have entirely separate lives occurring, but we do. Nothing will ever be able to replicate that, ever. And I really, really miss it. Of course, it would help if they would all stop getting married. Bastards. You know, in a good way.

Life? What the hell am I going to do with mine? Does anyone ever know for sure? This uncertainty sucks monkey balls. I should move. You know, to a city. A cool city. But which one? They’re all cool. I should find a new job. But which one? There are bazillions of cool jobs that I’d love to have, oh, and how should I qualify for said job? Grad school? Maybe? Maybe I should take a law school entrance exam. Maybe I’ll do that first thing Saturday morning. Yeah. Fun.

Right now, I’m not really looking forward to growing up anymore. While I want this part to be over, if another person tells me their twenties were the best years of their life, I’m going to kill them, because I’m a little worried it might be true and I’m just having a hard time enjoying it.

Establishing a Summer To-Do List

I'm going to create a summer to-do list for myself. I don't know why, I'm not really a to-do list kinda gal, and summer is my busy season at work, but I'm going to do it anyway.

So far I have:
-Join Weight Watchers to lose a wee bit of weight to bring me into the perfection realm
-Reorganize all of my clothing
-Go to the library more
-Finish things I start knitting
-Read 5 books
-Watch less TV
-Actually go to the gym
-Be happy for the main portion of each day (instead of sarcastic, which may or may not be a problem)
-Find a suitable alternative to the phrase "What the fuck?"
-Go swimming once
-Lay out in the sun, slathered in sunblock, but lay out in the sun no less than three times (will not commence until after the gypsy moth season)
-Be a better blogger
-Keep in better touch with college friends
-Keep my toenails painted.

Some are a little more feasible than others. Depending how things go, I may need to start adding things like "brush my teeth", "bathe", "eat breakfast" just so I can feel like I'm accomplishing something.

How to choose?

Before I started my blog I had grand ideas of what I would post here. Then I created the account and I had nothing. It's my first blogular impression. It has to be important and memorable. And pithy and interesting and intriguing and witty and meaningful and free of spelling errors. The pressure is just a little too much for me.

I could tell you all of my dashed Playboy Bunny dreams because of a surgical scar on my abdomen and how terribly, terribly disappointed I am.

I probably would conveniently leave out the parts about the fat so it would sound more believable.

I could tell you that my second choice for a blog name was "I Hate It" because that's what my aunt told me to name my first novel.

And I would definitely back that up by telling you that she's a bit biased because I was watching American Idol at the time which prompts my use of the word Hate quite a bit more than it should. It's usually directed towards Randy Jackson (I swear he's using the same exact comment reel he's had from the very first season) and Paula Abdul (because she's annoying and claps with her forearms and looks like a walrus and generally makes me unhappy) and Ryan Seacrest (seriously, without this gig he'd be nothing, and really he is nothing, but he has a good gig. Though, in his defense, at lease he has stopped saying "Seacrest Out!" at the end of every episode.)

I could tell you that I like to knit, but I would conveniently leave out the part where I've only completed one project ever, though I've started many. I like to place the blame on the fact that I hate 97% of all knitting patterns because they're ugly and frumpy and dumpy and just plain stupid and therefore I am unable to fully invest myself in the project.

I could regale you with the stories of how my heart has been broken and make you feel sad for me. But then if I let too much out of the bag you'd start to pity me because I haven't fallen for too many guys and I have really bad taste.

I could tell you stories about cooking and talk you to about food, but then your first impression would be that I'm a glutton.

So obviously those things weren't going to work. I decided to start playing with the famous first lines instead.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It was life after college.

No.

Midway in our life's journey, I went astray from the straight road and thought Fuck! I'm really lost and there's no cell phone reception.

No. I can't use the F word in one of our first conversations.

It was love at first sight. Me and my Twinkie.

Nope, back to the gluttony thing.

Once upon a time there were four little Rabbits, and their names were - Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-tail, and Nicole.

(I get a little misty eyed here mourning my Playboy bunny days. So no.)

I expect I might as well begin by telling you about Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle so that whenever I mention her name, which I do very often in this book, you will not interrupt and ask, "Who is Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle?"

Hmm... No. My name is not Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle, but there's a good point,

I expect I might as well begin by telling you about Nicole so that whenever I mention her name, which I do very often in this blog, you will not interrupt and ask, "Who is this Narcissist Nicole?"

I'm in my 20s, a college graduate (those two words are very, very expensive), have been employed at a fun job since right after graduation, I'm getting prepared for law school, I like food, knitting, laughing with friends and guys. And sarcasm. And a billion other things. And now I have a blog.