The Fun Me might be dead.

I realized it tonight. I got home from helping some friends move, and I had plenty of energy, and I had plans basically laid out for me, but I just decided to stick around at home. I am a little tired from lugging boxes and speakers and chairs and whatever else was packed into the van that started its journey from Pittsburgh, but I’m not tired enough to play the I’m Tired Card. As it stands, I have two easy choices within walking distance: a group of friends at a bar; a group of friends playing board games. Tonight I wanted quiet. Last night I wanted quiet.

I’m becoming increasingly irritable, shy, unwilling to leave the house. These seem like tell-tale signs of depression (but according to a WebMD.com quiz, I’m at “Lower Risk” for depression) and I don’t feel down all the time–I just feel like being alone. Going to a restaurant or to the movies with some friends seems fun, but going out for a drink does not. Being in by eleven is ideal, whereas staying out until last call makes me want to call off plans all together. This is starting to make me feel that I’m just done with the whole “have fun in your twenties” thing. The Fun Me might be dead. (I’m writing this on a Friday night.)

Sometimes flashes of the old Fun Me come out. Occasionally I’ll be chipper and excited to go to a party, I’ll be candid and have a good time, I won’t sit in the corner and only talk to whatever friend brought me. Sometimes Fun Me remembers party tricks learned in college, or claims to a group a ridiculous profession. But most of the time, I sit and I half-sulk, and I think about how comfortable my bed will be, and how badly my shoes hurt. I’m over the whole networking thing, and getting me to do drinks with people in my industry is like pulling teeth. I don’t really want to go out and meet new people, because I like the people I already know. It’s not that I think that I am saturated as far as my social life goes, it’s just that… I’m not feeling it right now.

There are a few factors that contribute to this, but there are two main ones: 1. loosing my job in May, and 2. my LDR.

While I talk about the lay off as one of the better things that’s happened to me, truth is, it really took a lot out of me. At the time, my hours had been diminished to part time, and I was living in this city on only 30 hours of week, making a measly $11/hour. I didn’t have much time to save, and I didn’t want to have too much unemployment time, because that looks bad on resumes, so I took the first job that came to me. I was lucky, I was unemployed for a full two days before I was taken on by My Worst Nightmare Productions (my name for this company). I won’t go into gory details, but after quitting, I continued to work there on and off for three months. I finally put my foot down, said I wasn’t coming back, and I’ve been out of work since.

While I can’t really look around and see all of the people who are out of work and really feel THAT BAD for myself, there has been set backs. I feel terribly guilty going out and spending money on anything but rent, food, and bills. Drinking $6-8 beers doesn’t drown the sorrows, it makes things worse, and by the end of the night, I am a mental mess, thinking about how I will never make it in showbiz. (Did you know I am one of those people who have spiraling thought patterns?!) And perhaps it wasn’t the lay off that broke me, but the job with Worst Nightmare Productions that really kicked me when I was down, but my self esteem in the career department is pretty much broken. It’s really hard to send out literally dozens of resumes a week and get a response from maybe 1/50.

Factor numbero dos: My boyfriend lives in Cleveland. While I’ve gotten pretty used to the whole long distance thing, there are (understandably?) still periods of time when it gets me down. I don’t feel like I need him to make me happy, or that without him I can’t go anywhere, or that I’d be feeling bad if I went and had fun without him. It’s just that I miss him. I don’t think that’s so wrong. We have to deal with time tables, so when he is ready to go to bed at 2AM on a Friday night, it’s only 11 here in SoCal. Not that I’m sitting up all night waiting for phone calls, but it’s nice to talk to your boyfriend who you get to see, like, every two months, okay?! Get off my back.

So, I don’t really know where this leaves me. I guess I might just be done going to bars and clubs and big parties. Fun Me’s appearances will probably just end up being few and far between, but right now I need to focus on the regular version of myself that I have to face every morning.

We need body rockin’ not perfection

So, I joined a gym. Curves to be exact. I just felt that it was time to stop spending so much time on the couch, and a little more time marching in place on a mat while a remix of “It’s Raining Men” in the background. I suppose there’s really no better time to jump start a more healthy lifestyle than when I have little else to do during the day.

Now, when I started my quest to join a gym (Quest? Sure.) I had orginially ruled Curves out. It just seemed a little too… well, for old ladies. Don’t get me wrong–it kind of is. I mean, one of the women I work out with is recovering from a massive stroke. She always wears great outfits, usually accessorized with her leopard print fanny pack. What really sold me on Curves was a friend living in Pittsburgh who had joined and in the last six months has lost forty-something pounds and feels that she is in the best shape of her life. She looks great and feels great, and she attributes it to Curves. It’s low pressure, and very nurturing.

For me, joining was not just about loosing weight, (although, I’m sure that will come as an added bonus) but as a means to become more healthy. I don’t think I’ll shed half my body weight to start to buy pants with a shockingly small number on the tag. Chances are, I’ll never get those teeny perky boobs that I so covet, the ability to wear slinky shirts with no bra. And that’s okay.

Women! Different ethnicities! Different shapes!

I’ve completed my first week with my old broads, and even at this point, I feel significantly better than last week. I’ve already found myself having more energy and not feeling as blah all day. It also gives me a destination and a reason to leave the house, which is something I need.

But, please someone punch me in the mouth if I ever list “working out” as an interest on my Facebook profile. Anyway, I feel good, so, booyah.

Take this job and shove it

I decided I’m not going back. A little baby bit of background: I was laid off my job at the end of April, two days into my unemployment, I was given a new job. The title I was given was something a little out of my experience level, but I was ready to step up. I showed up to my first day of work and was given a demotion. Six work days in, I felt like I had lost all control of my professional and also personal life, and I needed to get out. I left. It was too much for me to handle. About a month later, I was called back in to the job, as my replacement had walked out. I was brought on to help out until a new replacement was brought on. He was brought on last week, and I have been in a bizarre temp limbo. I am treated (in my opinion and in the opinions of my friends) poorly, and have mentally checked out. It’s best for me and everyone else if I do not come back.

So, was it the worst job in the world? Well, no. I could name a slew of jobs that would make me more unhappy than what I just finished, but that wouldn’t really get me anywhere. It might end up making me feel guilty about today’s decision. To list my grievances would also feel satisfying, but again, where would that get me? Onto some sort of “these people complain too much” blacklist.

Honestly, this has been one of the worst experiences of my life. Aside from some issues I had about moving to California, I have never felt anxiety like I felt in this position. I’d have dreams about work. I’d think about work when I got home, silently replay my day in my head, finding mistakes I had made, and mentally noting to fix them as soon as I got in the next morning. In the first two weeks I worked there, I lost a solid ten pounds; I lost my appetite, was exhausted. Working in this position drained me mentally and physically.

In the end, where would this position get me? I really can’t say, but this is something that I cannot dwell on. Some really great opportunity may have come from this position, but I do believe that leaving–and now finally leaving for good–is the best option for me at this point. Leaving is the best option.

Now, where does this leave me? In a scary, naked, vulnerable place. While it’s a bit terrifying to not know where my next paycheck is coming from, I do feel as if I have been freed. At the same time, my next “career move” is not so easily laid out in front of me like a freshly ironed garment.

I’m really re-evaluating things, and honestly rethinking this whole showbiz thing. It feels a little bit like digging into a pile of laundry to find a warm, comfortable and worn sweater, but I am going back to past ideas, career-wise. Peg and I discuss this whole thing a lot. We are both going through newly-coined “quarter life crises.” I am rethinking teaching. I’m rethinking corporate video. I’m rethinking the culinary arts. I’m rethinking non-profit. I’m going back to a past dream job: Girl Scout Something-or-other. As B reassured me today (a little harshly): “You are 24 years old. You have a little bit of time at least to figure it out. You have not had a job you liked in almost a year. You are just stressed out that you are going in the wrong direction but you are not. You will find your calling. Just relax and be a 24 year old for God sakes.”

So this Saturday afternoon, I think I’m going to just work on being 24.

I’m going home

Next weekend is some good friends’ wedding, and I’m making a trip back to southern Ohio. After nineteen months in Los Angeles, things do feel like home here. When I’m back in my hometown, I feel displaced in a place that I used to know like the back of my hand. I find that little things upset me. Road widenings, new buildings over what was a field, remodels of grocery stores, the makeover of my childhood bedroom my mother did to transform it into a guest room. While most things are still comforting and familiar, some things feel jarring. I still don’t think I’ll ever get used to drinking in my hometown, and not feeling like I’m breaking a law.

Sometimes I get really down about being home. I feel that there’s nothing left there for me. Most of my friends have moved on, and I have to come to the realization that each of the members of my family are real people, too. That they have their own goals and people and lives. Jobs there right now are scarce, and there seems to be a lack of young people in general. I do find the “there’s nothing to do here” argument to be pretty invalid, as I often feel myself bored out of my mind in Los Angeles. (Admittedly, this might have to do with my unemployment stint and a lack of cash.)

I feel all of this, but then there’s the warm welcome from old friends and family, and that’s when I do know that home is where the heart is, and all those sentimental sayings. I can’t wait to see my dog, to sit on our back porch, to fight with my brothers about our questionable life goals. And then there’s Marion’s Piazza.

Anyway, I have some packing and laundry to do. I also have some mental preparation to do. I can only answer so many questions about what celebs I’ve seen lately, and what an earthquake feels like, and the worst question of all: so when are you coming back? Thing is, I don’t know. There are a lot of things up in the air for me right now. I’d be happy to tell people what’s going on, if I knew.

With my mid-twenties staring me straight in the face

Gregg Alexander was 26 when “You Get What You Give” hit in 1998. This was not only my favorite song of 1998, but my favorite song of the 1990′s. The video inspired a twelve year old me to buy a green khaki bucket hat and wear it pretty much all the time.

Will I ever be too old to get into a really great youth anthem? I don’t think so. I’m not sure what it is that connects me so much to thinking that as a kid, as a youth, as a young adult, I can really be something.  I blame it on the popular culture of the 1990′s (my favorite!) where kids ruled, and adults drooled. The music? I had it in ME!

If you feel you’re dream is dying, hold tight. You got the music in you.

On Facebook Comparison

Oh facebook dot com, you bizarre cultural phenomenon. Who would have ever thought that the social networking site started by Harvard student Mark Zuckerberg and some dudes would have such a pull not only on my social life, but the way that I feel about myself and others, and completely revolutionize the way I communicate? I guess that’s what puts it to phenomenon status.

For a long time, I’ve tried to avoid talking about Facebook as a THING. I pretty openly discuss things that happen on Facebook (happen. happen as if actual events are happening. riiiiight.) but I’ve really tried to not acknowledge the power the website has over me. Because if I don’t, then it doesn’t, right? Sigh.

I guess I don’t really have a problem with Facebook becoming a verb, or even the amount of time I waste clicking around on the narcissistic site. Where my problem with Facebook really begins is how it can make me feel. It’s ridiculous. Do I look okay in my profile picture? Do the interests I listed make me look stupid? Worse yet, do they make me look pretentious?

And then there’s the comparison. The anxiety that people feel before going to their high school reunions is now presented to me daily. Oh, so-and-so from algebra class had a baby? What a bad idea! (+1 feel good about myself point) But, look. That hard-working-but-not-smart-girl from that one camp I attended once just got into law school. (-4 feel good about myself points) To boost my self-esteem, I’ll check out what whats-her-face is up to. Her life choices always make me feel better about–and then I catch myself. It’s such a vicious cycle.

One thing I need to stop and check in with myself. What are my goals? What do I want to achieve in life? How am I doing? My happiness is the happiness I should worry the most about right now. I’m twenty-four, unattached, and have made a decision to work on my career. I have not decided to get married and settle down in the suburbs. And that’s okay! I am focusing on me right now.

Life after, or rather, before, “THE BIG ONE”

I live in Southern California. In Southern California, we hear an expression a lot: THE BIG ONE. Every time there’s noticeable seismic activity, the evening news reports, asking experts if they think that the most recent quake is a precursor to The Big One. Earthquake kits are sold, bottled water flies off the shelves, I obsessively check the Earthquakes Hazard Program’s website. (It’s updated in real time!)

I often times find myself in a funny/embarrassing/bizarre situation and imagine a large earthquake. “What would happen if The Big One Hits while I’m changing my tampon in this port-a-potty at a rooftop party at the Gay pride parade?” (“The poor dear! She died in a portable toilet, and she was not nearly attractive enough to get into this party. Who gave her a wristband, anyway?” they’d cry!) This humor is one way I deal with the possibility of my world coming crashing down around me at all times.

And while all of this is frightening, I need to somehow find peace with this silent and unwarning danger. Sometimes it feels like a sleeping giant in the ocean, about ready to wake up, come ashore and rock our worlds. And that’s really scary. When I worked in Santa Monica last year and felt a 4.something, I had a panic attack at work. This needed to stop. So, I educated myself.

I read about a lot of the large quakes that have hit California in modern history, mostly the Northridge Earthquake in 1994. I read a really fantastic resource, Putting Down Roots in Earthquake Country, and I now know quite a bit more. I know what to if one happens. I know what kind of supplies to have on hand. I know that most buildings have been retrofitted. Importantly, I know that SoCal is not going to simply crack off and fall into the ocean. This is all a huge relief to me.

Northridge, 1994

Do I think that I’ll experience The Big One in my time here? I might. The problem with something like this is that the activity is so unpredictable. While scientists often tell news crews that we are well overdue for a large quake, the time tables that they speak of are hundreds of years wide. I’m not saying this is something we shouldn’t worry about and not prepare for. We should just make sure to be educated and not to let ourselves be preoccupied.