10/17/03: Wow, a whole week passed already. It went rather quickly. Monday I was feeling weak and tired, and Tuesday I stayed home. My limbs felt heavy, and tingly and trembly. I was in bed half the day, and laying down watching tv the rest of the day. It was good to relax.
I didn't really follow up on the job thing, though I did beef up my statements for the second application. I figure it also won't lead to a response, but it made me feel proactive and practicing, or something. Maybe I will work on keeping my eye open for opportunities. And by the time I'm really ready for something, I'll, you know, be ready. Hm, I wonder if that made sense.
I don't think much else happened this week. I haven't worked out at all, but I did start working overtime again. Making up for lost time, and for lost fundage in the bank account...I can't wait for November, when I'll be getting a bonus. Ten months later, but better late than never, is what I keep reminding myself.
So I spent three weeks reading that one book, right? I have made up for lost time, reading four books this week alone. I will be starting the fifth tonight. It's the last of the five I got from the library, the lot of which are due on Tuesday. Impressive, eh? One of them was The Alchemist. I loved it. I probably should have read it much sooner, but this was a perfect time to think about dreams and destinies. I can keep myself going, because I decided this is just my year in the crystal shop. I am saving up money for a future journey that will lead me to my true life.
Have you ever noticed that life goes by awfully fast? I am old. I mean, I know I'm still young, but it honestly feels like I'm still an awkward teenager, just pretending to be a "grown-up." The scary thing is that many other people feel this way, a good number of whom are significantly older than me. I don't want to go through the years, always feeling like I can't quite catch up. I mean, really, someone who is twenty-four is an adult, a go-getter, a social swagster, laughing in swanky, funky bars with their many eclectic friends, someone who has a unique, interesting and promising job, and a kitschy apartment in the city. Whereas I, rapidly approaching that twenty-fourth milestone, feel impossibly young, imposterly uninteresting, drab, lazy and antisocial. It's like I'm waiting for some sign, some privilege, some telltale symbol of true adulthood. And I don't mean voting, imbibing alcohol, or parenthood.