I’ve always considered myself to be a pretty self-aware person. And while I know I bring the crazy sometimes, I usually have a pretty good grasp on why. Just because I’m self-aware doesn’t mean I can always control my emotions…
Anyway, if you’ve ever read anything I’ve written – from Facebook posts, to Tweets, to this blog – you know I’m a big fan of the ellipses. See above, ahem. I can’t really pinpoint when this phenomenon started (very likely with my first major foray into social media, the Myspace), but I know that it’s been a punctuational mainstay ever since. I typically feel that the use of the ellipses more closely mirrors the way I talk (and if you’ve heard me talk, you know this blog is pretty damn close to the way I speak)… but I’ve recently had an epiphany: the ellipses reflect my lack of commitment…
Yeah, I know, it’s a big leap. BUT… think about it. If I end a sentence with an ellipses, I’m not committing to an end; I’m letting my statement just fade out. It gives me an opportunity to say what I want without that sense of finality. OK, crazy person, how- or more importantly why – did you make that connection? Well, it may have something to do with the fact that my life is in a state of flux… yet again.
My current temporary position ends on January 31 so I’m looking for a source of income starting right as that ends. I have been on one interview with another in the works. The first interviewer was concerned that I wouldn’t have the staying power that she’s looking for. She wants someone to commit for at least a year. The second job wants someone that will likely stick around for three. And suddenly I feel like the cliche male from a romantic comedy… someone starts mentioning long term to me and I FREAK OUT. Suddenly I’m feeling stifled.
My longest job was teaching… for four years. The longest I ever lived in any one place was when I was in high school… I lived in that house from 6th-12th grades. Before that, and since then, I have not stayed anywhere for too long (two and a half years is my current record). My longest functional relationship? Three years. My longest dysfunctional relationship? Four-ish years. The only thing, aside from my family, that I’ve been able to commit to for the long term is Walter Matthau, my dog… we’re going on six years in May. And as much as I love that friggin’ dog, I sometimes think about what I could do if I didn’t have him (oh, the apartments that would be available to me).
I abhor the idea of getting a job that will last a few years. I can’t fathom staying in my apartment for more than a few more months. And as far as guys go… well, it’s a lot easier when they don’t stick around for too long either. I take a strange comfort in temporary. Sticking to one thing for years and years and years (or worse, forever)… seriously gives me the willies.
I’ve never had roots anywhere. I’m always fascinated by people who have childhood friends or whose parents still live in the house where they grew up… or whose parents are still married. And I’m not saying this to elicit some kind of sympathy from you, Dear Reader. I’ve had all my life to accept this… and accept it, I do.
But I think this means I’m always going to be looking… for anything… for everything… and you know, I really don’t think I’ll ever find what I’m looking for… nor do I really want to… I just want to have fun doing it… DOT DOT DOT
Blog song title: “Weightless” by Nada Surf