Happy Anniversary

Today is my six-month anniversary of being a real person. For the past six months, today, I have had a job that I haul myself out of bed for almost every day, I have received a paycheck in my bank account every two weeks, and on varying dates throughout the month I have been expected to transfer this money to various companies and individuals--my landlord, my roommate, my gym, Visa, CTA, Netflix, Blue Cross, etc--now, six months later, I'm not quite rich yet nor do I think I will ever be. But this is beside the point.

On this most historic of days, my six-month anniversary of being the stereotypical, the miserable, nine-to-fiver, I am thinking about the GRE Practice Test I'm taking tomorrow and how I'm going to refuse the company administering this free test when they try to get me to agree to pay them over half of my current checking account balance so they can teach me to do well on this test I am almost certainly ill-prepared for. I am looking forward to, perhaps relatively soon, retreating into the sheltered academic cove I not-so-long ago knew and loved, which will allow me to get up past 7:00 a.m. during the week and, furthermore, see my apartment by the light of the sun. Today I am looking at my recently updated resume and planning what I will wear and what I will say at a job fair I am attending on Saturday. I am slowly scouring job-search websites and planning to update my writing portfolio and cover letter in between completing my least-favorite tasks at my current job.

This is not really how I thought it would go. Yes, by all accounts it is going fine: I pay my bills, I have a little left over, I am working in my field... but I left college hopeful and confident, a strong believer in the absolute freedom of the press, and now I'm disillusioned, confused, bored, and tired. And freedom of the press for me, for my interests, my beliefs, is a myth. That's fine. Unfortunate, but fine. Six months really isn't a long time, but it does feel like one... and what can I do now but look for and hope for something better.

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Today is also nearly my nine-month anniversary of living here in Chicago (and of dating my boyfriend). Nine months is also not really a long time, but Chicago's starting to feel more and more familiar, especially now that spring and summer are rolling around again. Concerts to look forward to, my pride at being able to navigate without a map of the streets or the transportation, my not having to deal with a car, my lovely apartment and neighborhood... so I try to focus on these things instead of the former.