How do I Life?

One of the dangers of returning from abroad is you* never know what you'll* remember about how life was before you* left. For instance, it appears that my memories of how life was in, say, January, have trumped the memories of how life was in May when I left. For instance, I remember having specific drawers in which I kept specific articles of clothing, but it appears closer to the end of April I began employing the "mix all the dirty and clean laundry together, pile it on top of the dresser/rocking chair/desk and let the fates decide if you get to work looking clean and pressed or like something that crawled out of the gutter" approach to sorting laundry.

I also remember keeping a rather meticulous filing system. Upon going through said files it seems the system only remained meticulous until about March, when I began adopting the "choose three records at random and throw them out, choose one thing to tack to the bulletin board (choose the honored bulletin item based on how important the envelope looks, not on how important the contents is, and for God's sake don't bother actually opening it to check), then shove everything else onto the desk that you'll be piling your clothes on top of in April" filing system.

And, of course, the general rule of thumb became "make sure everything you shove in here will resurface, save for the one item you really need". I wonder if my bank takes blog posts as statements of account?



*That's what I call the royal "you" meaning, in fact, I.

Home and safe and ready for more

There's something about being abroad that makes it almost unthinkable to return to life the way it was when you left it. I'm speaking as an unmarried 20-something with no assets to speak of*, so maybe if I had a house or a partner or a dog I would feel differently, but having virtually no obligations**, halfway through my Europe travels I sort of decided to...well, to quit the job I've had for the past 4 years and actually pursue something in my field. Oddly enough, it worked out rather well for me.

One might argue that when I was in Vienna maybe I should have been applying for jobs in Vienna, or at least on that continent, but I was, in fact, applying for publishing jobs in Winnipeg, and it would appear that I actually got one, so now I will be following my childhood dream of correcting proofs and designing posters (yes, this is what I did as a child, don't judge me).

So when I got back from Europe, I suddenly had a new job, a new course of studies, a new assignment to find a car to get me from point A to point Studies, and a pile of papers spread across the beautiful kitchen table that has been most irreverently used as a desk for the past year or so. Also, a reminder I'll be participating in the Death Race relay next year. Feel free to look that up. On top of that, I've quickly re-established my addiction to anime shows, especially AKB0048 (thanks, Kathy), and any and all literature it may spawn (again, thanks K). So yeah, life goes on, long after the thrill*** of living is gone. Or whatever. Being a teenager sucks. Being 25 is way better. Ignore Bruce Springsteen and all the literature he may spawn.

*assets: children, a marital partner, a house, a car, a high-maintenance pet, any or all of the above.
**except for the fairly simple one of showing up to work on time and sober, and responding to any texts my boss/coworkers might send me.
***thrill of living: something that apparently all blissfully unaware teens are supposed to experience, but I, as an intensely self-aware teenager, spent the majority of my time studying in my bedroom and not experiencing first hand until you "walk on", which apparently happened 5 years ago. Thank you, Mr. Springsteen.