The In-Between

Everyone always talks about life in terms of goods and bads. Good relationships and bad ones. Good times, bad times. It's easy to associate with these things, because they're easily indentifiable. When you spend a month crying over a breakup, or wake up every morning dreading another day @ your job (two things I can thankfully say I have never done) you know that these are the bad times. They're OK, because you know they aren't going to last. If you're well-adjusted, you can grieve them as the crappiness that they are, and wait for the better days.

Those times are glorious. The good times make you forget the bad times. You're making good money, or you're surrounded by love, you've got a great apartment or your job is going well. These times are obviously the best...but a little daunting since you know that they too, aren't going to last forever. Time is fleeting. Good time the same as bad.

Well anyway, we become accustom to both things. The older we get, the more perspective we gain and the more we understand that if you wait out anything, it's going to go away. So we learn to cope. We learn to enjoy. We learn to appreciate time in general. Generally.

But there's a new kind of time in my life that I'm not enjoying at all. And that I am calling "the in-between time." When nothing happens at all.

I should probably like this too...because it means that nothing's wrong. But I can't help but feel bored and unhappy, to the point that even the good things aren't good enough to warrant a reaction. I think it's called a rut. And I'm in a big, deep, muddy mess of one.

It was prompted, I think, by the move. I was stressed out and grossed out by the prospect of having to move, (which I think most people are...) but I overreacted as usual to the whole thing. Once we were here, exiled to Brooklyn, and everything associated with the last year was gone...I fell asleep, and I feel like I haven't been awake since.

I had to find a new job pretty quickly, because with the new apartment I wouldn't have been able to afford rent on my salary. So I reluctantly started to pursue some kind of career that I might not hate. I sent resumes, I wore my suit, I shook hands and answered questions the way I was supposed to. And I managed to get a great job, despite my attitude, and gave my two weeks notice last Wednesday. I should be excited, probably, but I don't really care. I don't know WHY I don't care...because I'm accustom to caring way too much about everything. But nothing phases me recently. And I think it's the in-between. It's sucking the life out of me.

My roommate was going to a party last night somewhere in Brooklyn, and my coworker JW was going to one in Manhattan. I wanted to go to both. But I didn't go to either. I couldn't summon the energy to associate with people. And here was my train of thought: I'm not going to be working with JW after next week, so why bother fueling that friendship with anymore bonding time than necessary. My roommate was going to be with a guy I dated briefly around Christmastime (isn't it weird that that's one word?), and although he's moved on (happily, in love, blah blah) I don't feel particularly enthuzed to deal with him. I should be friendly and happy that he's happy...instead I'd like him not to exist at all.

So I watched my boyfriend Seth Meyers on SNL and fell asleep. And instead of feeling guilty for being boring...I didn't feel anything @ all. Again.

It's probably to be expected that at particular times in your life, you're going to lack the enthusiasm that you sometimes have for living. But it makes me sad...because I'm usually quite obsessed with living, and doing so loudly and with feeling.

I should learn to understand and respect the in-between the way I have the good and the bad... but it's hard. It's just, so....