now, i don't want to discount those moments when i'm in the middle of something incredible, and i think "i don't want to lose this memory--this is too good, this is too full of life. i love this, i want to live in this forever i will remember this forever" but the older i get, it seems that most of the romanticism to life is actually found in retrospect.
for example--there are definitely moments from my time at camp eagle that i know were romantic--the interns and mer lying on crash pads, watching the lightning storm, or lying with Sarah in the hammock at mi casa, listening to the wind chimes. but i'm finding that being able to say "the camp i worked at for 15 months" is also romantic. it didn't seem that way at the beginning...but now it seems that having done it, 'accomplished' it, is in itself something.
having learned this and believed this all, i thought it would be romantic to work in a delicatessen. it sounds cool, sounds like a job that would give some credibility. but the truth is so much grimier, so much wetter, so much more crude and embarrassing and frustrating sometimes. i don't like the guys i work with--they do nothing but ogle the girls and ask incredibly inappropriate questions of a sexual nature. the work is boring and my body is beginning to protest--just ask my right shoulder as it pops every time i slice. i get wet and disgusting by the end of the shift.
(however, there is a boy. in produce. who makes my heart ache a little bit, whose smile makes it skip. who likes to stare at me. but that's only trivial, in the long run. unless he does something about it--then i wouldn't call it trivial.)
two jobs is not fun--even if the money helps out a lot. but i don't believe it should be just about the money. i don't like either one of them, actually. and school is alright, but not what i wanted to be doing at this point in my life--didn't i already do this, so i wouldn't have to be working this hard in life? what i can't get over is the feeling that i want my life to be romantic and real while i'm living it, not when i'm reliving it.
sometimes i just want to run away from my life. i almost did it last night. i almost just picked up my keys and walked away from this. the thought is invigorating, honestly. leave behind all financial obligations, and just drive away--no two weeks notice, no 'last shift', no rent check or utitilies bills. i'd go to LA or somewhere. yeah, LA. i'd drive right up to paramount, and demand that they give me an audition and then a character spot. i'd prove i belong there. and i wouldn't have to worry about how the purpose i was created for and the purpose i'm serving now in now way remotely resemble each other. damnit.
although.
there are still times here, in this too-small apartment with one loveseat and sink flies, where i'm glad this is my life. where i can lie on my floor and listen to an old vinyl. that's nice. it's kind of funny how i can't shut my oven without all the spices falling off the back ("Dammit!"). actually, it's not very funny at all.
but doesn't it sound romantic?
