I don’t know why I am such a restless soul. Nothing seems to make me quite happy, and the closest I ever get is the idea of happiness; when such plans come to fruition, however, they are almost always disappointing.
I think that at least in a small way that is part of why I stubbornly decided to come to New York to intern this summer. Yes, I think it is a wise career move, but at the heart of my decision may have been just a bit of a thrill-seek. As much as it turns my stomach, the frantic phone calls and craigslist culls put a fire under my bum, which, while terribly disruptive to my sleep pattern, also gave me a delightfully invigorating chill.
In trying to stave off the inevitable disappointment, I am trying not to think about anything, too much. Anyway, it will be what it will be. I will make it work, or I won’t, but I’ve committed myself to it, so it’s going to happen now. Here it comes!
I love plotting and planning, almost so much that I think that, if I could do any job and be quite rich, one of my top choices might be a personal assistant to someone important (but who preferably was not a bastard/bitch). (The other, more exciting choices being: cheese maker, restaurant reviewer, travel writer). I do not aspire to greatness or import, nor would it make me feel great or important to work for such people. I just like the idea of putting things in their places, and being on time.
I do not aspire to many lofty goals, only that I be content in my job, have a nice (if small) place to inhabit, and be surrounded by good friends. I do not want kids, I do not need money (just to be comfortable to the point where it is not a daily worry). I want to be able to travel with some regularity. I would like to live in a medium sized city that is both affordable and convenient. I want to be able to walk as much as possible, and eat fresh, delicious food. Most of all, I want peace: of body and mind.
I think it a bit silly to make a list of such goals, especially with ones so basic as my own, but it is also somewhat calming. Buddy says that studies show new college graduates with set goals are more likely to be successful ten years later. I wonder what they meant by “successful”, and whether it measures my primary factor, happiness.
I think they meant goals like starting your own hedge fund or making a million dollars by your twenty-fifth birthday. I wonder where life will lead me in ten years, but I try not to think about it, just as I’m trying not to think about the next ten days. Speculation leads to disaster, and plans never come out like you think, so I am trying to let it ride- but in a subway, instead of a car, if possible.
