Somebody tell me everyone makes bad decisions in their lives because I find it hard to convince myself.
Tell me I have my whole great life to look forward to because I’m not feeling that.
Tell me I haven’t made a mess of my life.
On a sweeter note, I started my internship at The Alchemy Partnership Monday this week, a blessing for several reasons. Most importantly, it has helped quell some of my fears about graduating jobless, so my friends and basically nearly everyone I meet can be spared the torment of hearing me paint exceedingly bleak pictures of our future. I think I actually caused several of them panic. Sorry! Issues like that are practically fodder for my pessimism to chew and roll and expand on. Only consider Dean’s complaint that talking to me can drive him to insanity because I ‘scold everything from the food to the government’ (that’s at breakfast, I’m capable of finding all sorts of other things to gripe about). Okay, not that this internship will guarantee me a job in future but it’s a good start. It has put my faith back in the workforce system. Sort of. And then there’s still all that self-actualization stuff to contend with but that’s another gripe for another day.
Also obviously, it’s helping me take my mind off things although I have next to nothing to do! It’s mostly the new environment. No memories whatsoever; nothing to prompt my whole wave of nostalgia. But really I am so free I want to run myself into the walls. I’m so free I would gladly volunteer to paint the walls (but cleaning anything would be pushing it a bit too far cos it’ll get me dirty). I feel almost bad that I’m surfing the internet and reading magazines (arguably for research purposes. Oh god I just love this line! The excuses for frivolity!) while all my colleagues are so harassed with work. Almost, because it wasn’t for want of asking. I swear Petra is getting traumatized by my constant hunger for things to do because each time I turn to her expectantly, she hastily proclaims the feedback isn’t back yet. Well, I did write one ad. And it was exhilarating. I could be a copywriter forever. For now.
Oh and happily, I haven’t bawled, haven’t felt physically ill, haven’t had intense convulsions of emotions, haven’t exactly lost my appetite, or looked physically appalling. Hell, I haven’t even got wasted! Because of the breakup, that is. (I do have a nagging feeling that I probably haven’t internalized it yet, that’s why. That’s odd because I took weeks to consider and come to terms with it before settling it.) But I’m really proud of myself about the wasted part; I’m growing up! Or he probably helped too. All the times he came for me when I was smashed and nearly on the floor until he finally lost it and caused me to wake up my idea. And when everything blows over, I’d rather fancy the idea of him as a friend.