This morning I was on the phone with a good friend from my college improv team. Well, she's still in college. A sophomore, to be exact. I was explaining to her that I would be attending the Big Show this coming Thursday, but I couldn't stay and party for the weekend because I have to be on a business trip. She then said,
"A business trip?"
"Yeah."
"You mean like my dad?"
Silence.
"Yes, Jacquie. Just like your dad."
For those of you that know me personally, the notion of me doing anything that starts with the word "business" is both hilarious and extremely confusing. For those of you that don't know me personally, I'll give you a few examples of the responses I've gotten from dear friends of mine upon receiving the news, in order to give you a better understanding:
"What happened to you?"
"Wait, you? What do you mean?"
"Hahahahahahahahahaha"
Finding out about and then consenting to go on this business trip was, for me, the nail in the coffin of my hope to hang on to a fully frivolous lifestyle. You know, the one where I stayed up too late every night and slept wherever I was when I realized I was tired and where "getting my shit together" meant taking a shower. There were other signs that this day was coming, though.
One of the most prominent signs that I am turning into an adult is that, at least five days out of the week, I look the best I am going to at 7am and by 6pm, look like total shit. This used to be inverted. When I first started working, I noticed that as the day happened, the number of strange men cat calling me increased as it got later. I used to think this was because my confidence increased as time passed and, therefore, I seemed more attractive. I am realizing that this is a very wrong idea.
In fact, the reason more street-corner-prince-charmings are "getting at me" is because I look more like I belong on a street corner. To be plain, in the morning I look like a young, bright entrepreneur and by the evening I look like a young-ish, tired prostitute in business professional attire.
I know this is the truth because a man once trailed me for a short time kindly letting me know that I would, "make his pockets fat." Well, at least I have options.
Beyond that, I experience pains that are the mark of an adult, or a car accident. My knees ache. I have considered orthopedic shoes (although this might be a little premature), and when I see signs for $5 massages, I peer into my wallet and then at the clock to see if it's an option. And dammit, don't make me start my day without my coffee. Ha, Deb, my secretary, she's so sick of me. Every morning I send her out for my medium coffee, black, and whole grain muffin, no butter (doc says it's no good for my cholesterol). She's always reminding me how waitress is not in the job description. Crazy old bat.
Ok, I don't have a secretary. Or a smart phone. I don't even have a palm pilot. One of these days.
Also, sometimes, I drink a beer on the train ride home, eyes closed, rubbing my temples, and think about finances.
Now, It's true that I never envisioned myself, at 22 (or any age) in a situation like this. I mean, come on, I'm totally a writer, right? Screw all that material bullshit. I just want to create.
But, I have always envisioned myself living somewhere other than an alleyway so, that got kind of complicated.
So I have learned something new from my bout of adulthood and it applies to most every situation in life. That major lesson being that life is all about balance. I am in no way prepared to succumb to a 100% life of business. Not that I'm not committed, it's just that even if I had my own business, that's not how I'd run it. Not to mention, intrinsically, I just can't.
Having this balance comes rather naturally to me. Here's a good example. Last night, I got out of work and had my finance train beer. Upon arriving home, I ate, immediately put on pajamas, and reached my REM cycle by 11:30pm. It was a Friday night.
However, I woke up this morning, turned on the classic 1995 Mighty Morphin Power Rangers flick where they must defeat the evil Ivan Ooze and ate Pumpkin ice cream out of the cartoon with my childhood blanket draped around my neck. I don't know if I should have admitted that. It could have negatively affected my image.
I just had a second where I wondered what "my image" is. I think admitting I watch Power Rangers and have a blanky is the least of my concerns.
