Happiness

You know what? I'm happy.

I'm stressed as hell, yes. I had to go to a restaurant down the street to apply for a job as a server because I am worried about the size of my first paycheck, delivered yesterday. I freak out about my grocery bill, because I've never purchased groceries with my own money before. Who knew meat costs so much? And, like, why? Don't they breed chickens by the thousands to lower costs?

Work is great, except. Except. I love the work, the theory of what I'm doing, what I feel like I'm accomplishing, but there's the pace. There are days when everyone is overly stressed out and no one has any time at all to breathe, and then there are days when I spend all my time on gchat. I like PR, I hate agency life.

But you know what? I'm happy.

Jon is...I don't know, the type that buys flowers on a Thursday because. Because it's Thursday, because he's going out of town for a weekend, because. Because. The type of guy that tells me I'm being totally ridiculous when it's deserved, even when I hate hearing it. The type of guy that nags me when I need it and shuts up when I can't hear it.

DC is... I mean, it's the greatest city on earth. I got lost the other day (I blame Jon. So does he. He's just that type of guy.) and ended up in front of the Capitol. And as upset as I was that I had no idea where I was supposed to go from there, which stresses me out to no end, there I was. In front of a building where so much happens, where everything matters and everyone cares. I can't explain the way I feel about it, except that I feel like it's just magic. There's an electric feeling in the air, a breathtaking quality, even aside from the stunning aesthetic. I have always sort of known that I wanted to live here, and there I was. Here I am.

And even the job. I love the work. I love the theory. I think I want to be in communication, I just am quite sure agency life isn't for me. And that's a pretty huge step toward figuring out the rest of my life. And you know what? I'm happy with steps. As long as I'm taking them. Here's to progress! Right?

Am I doubting myself? Yes, of course. But there's also a sense of, you know, here I am. There I was. I'm getting to where I want to be--wherever that is--and knowing that I'm getting there is a sort of achievement on its own. I still get emotional about things like seeing new photos of my nieces. That I won't see until Thanksgiving. That's hard. Thinking that there's a small chance I won't do what I want to do--what I've always done--for Thanksgiving. That's hard. (Thanks to that one guy, I've secured a ride for Thanksgiving via BC. But she's unemployed and hoping to get a job in local news, which would require her to work Thanksgiving. And every other holiday ever. If that happens, I'm SOL, because by the time that happens, flights are likely to be out of my budget. Like they are now, only more so.)

But I feel like growing up is a process, and a painful one, and one that still causes me to get misty-eyed at Twitter updates, text messages, blog posts, Facebook statuses, emails, gchats, and everything. Like hearing that Patrick is at a bar with Tri Deltas, girls that I love with a very dear friend that I miss and haven't seen in far too long. When he visits, I'm used to that meaning that I get to see him. But instead it means he gets to see people I want to see. That's hard too.

But you know what? I chose this. I chose wisely, with a healthy disregard for my emotional safety, with an attachment to a city I never knew could yield things to me the way that it has (an attachment strengthened in a way I never guessed), with the fear of failure that I also think is a little healthy, and with the knowledge that it's entirely possible that I could fall flat on my face. But also with the knowledge that should that happen, I've got a few options. And you know what? Those options are pretty damned good. And I'm happy.