And then?

Things are good. I'm getting back to the point where there really isn't much to complain about. Graduation in a month and a half. And then..... ?
Who knows.
The thought of getting out and about into a real career-esque job is exciting, scary. Am I really ready for the 9-5 grind? Maybe. A change will be refreshing, but I have no idea where I'm heading. I could end up just working at Walmart for the next 5 years.... the economy is rather bothersome. But after spending 5+ years working towards this degree I really want to have something to show for it other than a piece of paper. This "what's next" question is keeping me awake at night. I should try harder. I haven't refreshed my resume. Thats coming next week hopefully. Then its going out on the tubes and filed in all the important places. Wish me luck.

Gotta start the house hunt again soon. I'm dreading it. I HATE moving. Not to mention I have no idea what to expect in the next 6 months or so. Am I staying put in Bowling Green for a while? Will I have some awesome job offer coming up in the summer? Doubtful, but still possible. What if I sign a new lease then get a offer? Money sucks. These are important questions that are beginning to monopolize my thoughts.

Windows

I had the revelation last night that I really only want strangers to read into the intimate parts of my life. Laying in bed for the first time truly cold and feeling more alone than I have for as long as I can remember and I knew that I really didn't want anyone to know. It's weird... this internet honesty. How I like to think that for once I can use a medium truly uncensored and let lose all the thoughts and feelings I sometimes can't bring myself to say audibly has become somewhat crippling here... b/c now I know who is really reading here... and it isn't strangers who stumble upon this by hitting "next blog" to take them to some mundane random peak into a binary existence. Those strangers who have no real connection to me or my story... but maybe read the first few sentences and are intrigued enough to finish it out. Who maybe can leave thinking or feeling that there is some familiarity among us all. That while this is all so personal and private perhaps someone can look at it and say... yeah it happens... instead of feeling betrayed: "can't believe she didn't tell me this."

But I know that you, and you, and maybe even you are waiting for this... which is exactly why it hasn't been updated in months. I feel like you're watching... waiting even, for me to slip up, so you can find some kind of inconsistency within me to hold against. Maybe it's just paranoia. The fact that I can almost imagine in movie quality you sitting at your computer, reading these words all typed out for the world, just some stream of consciousness, and your reaction. Your feelings. Your thoughts.

I guess i have lied to myself about my unabashed honesty, and my lack of attached emotions, now that I realize that your feelings take precedence among my creative outlet.
I feel trespassed upon.

Perhaps an old fashioned journal would treat me better.