October 24th, 2003


Quarter-life Crisis (continued)

Merely two metro rides into it, I think it's safe to say that I will thoroughly enjoy Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs. But like all collections of pop culture analysis essays that I read, they fill me with a sense of despair and failure. What's Chuck got that I don't got? Why haven't I written a book like this?

In a similar what-the-hell-am-I-doing-with-my-life vein, I'm finding it more and more depressing to think that Ashton Kutcher, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Shakira, the goddamned Olsen Twins...are all younger than me. How did they do it? I've had the same amount of time as they have. What do I have to show for it? A couple of hand-me-down futons and a Livejournal. Way to make a mark.

I guess now that I don't have to focus all my energy on how much I hate my job and how desperately I need to rid myself of it in order to salvage my sanity, I have more time to think about how it really doesn't matter where I work, I'm just taking up space in another cube; waking up with the rest of the cube people, taking up space in the train, taking up space in the office, taking up space in the gym, and spending my evenings getting ready to do it again.

A consolation is, I guess, at least I'm reading things that make me think about how I havne't done anything with my life instead of the fake paper.
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