Siddity in the City

Oof. Four days into the new year and it’s already kicking my ass.

I need a time out.

I’ve been thinking long and hard about what steps to take next in my life. At the moment, I seem to be in a frustrating holding pattern, circling just over what it should be–job, apartment, school, whatever. I’m still in the city, sort of, and still working, sort of, and still thinking wistfully of culinary school. Sort of. But I’m no closer to touching down on any of these things than I was three months ago when I cut loose from the life I had.

The Stolinator summed it up exactly when, under similar circumstances, she said she felt like she wasn’t living her real life; rather, she was waiting for all the bullshit to be over so she could get back to how things should be. And that’s exactly it: my life right now is not how it “should” be. I’ve taken a few knocks, and things don’t seem to be looking up, and it’s getting harder to stay even foolishly optimistic, let alone driven or focused.

I was in the old neighborhood a few hours ago to hit the gym, in a desperate attempt to get back my old ass, at least,* and it occurred to me how much I missed the quality of life I had. I miss being able to roll out of bed and down a few blocks to my gym, instead of commuting 45 minutes to an hour to get there. I miss deciding at 9:30 at night that I really want to see a movie, wandering over to catch a 10 p.m. show, and wandering home, alone, at midnight, being greeted by doormen, and then settling in for a scotchy-scotch nightcap and BBC America. Oh god, I so miss BBC America.

I miss whining about things other than all this crap on my blog. Sadly, I think I’m going to have to take a break from the blog, at least until things get more interesting.

Which may or may not happen in the next six weeks, considering I just got paid for a freelance gig I did a while back and have been itching to go abroad, for a month or so. It would tap out my reserves but I may just (gasp!) decide to cash out my 401K when I get back. Everyone I know in this city has done it at some point. Breaking into retirement funds is like, a NYC right of passage, apparently. Ill-advised? Yes. Possibly financial suicide? Yep. Should I scrape by on temping and savings for another four months, passing on the wonderful life-enhancing experience of international travel in order to “save” my 401K, which may have to be cashed out at the end of those months, anyway? Debatable.

So…yeah. Tomorrow, I start a new temp job, with more lawyers. WTF. This town is an international center of finance (great pay) and media (great experience) and I keep getting saddled with flipping law temp gigs. Hiatus. I’m going, I’m going.

*Don’t even get me started on the weight I’ve gained since I moved, reluctantly, to the Queens. Just…it will take me AT LEAST two months of five-days-a-week gymmery to get back to my “real” bum. Sadly, I’m only averaging three days. Hmph. I have returned, even more reluctantly, to vegetarianism until my arse comes out of hiding behind the behemoth creature currently clinging to my lower back.

Also, I know I sniff at overpriced designer bags, but this Chloe one is soso lovely. And OMG, too much sexy. What? I can no longer eat the damned creatures, I should at least be allowed to fantasize about using their supple little rears to tote my daily detritus. If I can find a good knock-off for under $200, I’m getting it.

*considering USD/GBP exchange rates*

Okay, I’m not. DAMNIT!