As a little girl, I wanted to be a famous ballerina. All little girls want to be famous ballerinas. We dance and twirl and pretend we’re beautiful and light as a swan.
Then we grow up.
We graduate college with a single task in mind: Make a living.
Maybe we add on there to “Have a house! Get married! Make babies!” and then we happen to meet someone who has the same dreams and you work together to make them come true.
We work hard, we save our shackles, we scrimp and eat in and make our own coffee.
We purchase a Townhouse because we live in one of the most expensive places in the US. (Aside from California which we all know is completely outrageous and OHMYGOD how do you people do it?)
We’re ok with this until…
The economy tanks leaving us upside down in our mortgage.
We have another baby and cram him in the girl’s room.
The new neighbors vacuum at 11pm.
They wake up said baby.
They get a dog.
Who yaps at 1AM.
And wakes up aformentioned baby.
They have loud sex.
At 11 AM
And this? This is the last straw.
Welcome to your mid-life crisis.
Grab some beer.
The mirror is not as kind, the scale is a bitch, the neighbors have more sex in two days than you do in a month and your children spend an hour soaking up what little sun they can get on your 2x2 porch.
I know I KNOW, woah-is-us. Boofuckinghoo.
It’s just that when I was writing in my journal at 21 year old thinking of the future I just didn’t really expect to end up here.
I’m sure nobody does.
My 21 year old liberal hippie self is so very disappointed. “Suburbia?” “But it’s what we can afford,” yells back my conservative mid-thirties self. “A barn? A field? Anything?” “Too much of a commute!” “You’re just like everyone else aren’t you? Ants. You’re just like the ants.” “We’re doing the best we can. Taxes are hard. Cost of living is hard. We have an ARM that comes up in six short months.”
Dear god we have an ARM mortgage and I know what that means.
My liberal 21 year old self just shook her head.
I’m sure you’d change something.
*Today’s post soundtrack is Dream by Priscilla Ahn
*Updated: This is a running theme, apparently. Follow the tag mid-life below for more. Apparently I don't read my own blog.