Written yesterday.

I recently got a compliment on my blog through a facebook message and the utter shame I felt at abandoning it a few months ago was akin to the shame I feel for not calling back certain friends and family who definitely, definitely need call backs, and so today, on my 25^th birthday, I resolve to:

1. Keep up the damn blog

2. Call my damn friends

So there you go. I don’t know why humanity needs milestones like birthdays and new years to do things they could just as easily begin at 2:41 p.m. on any random day of the week. We just love bookends. Whether they are weighted-bottom brushed bronze Atlas statues we found at Barnes and Noble to keep our collection of Garfield compilations upright or they are arbitrary days thrust upon you in the grand scheme of space-time, we all like a starting place and an ending place.

I’ve been doing some stuff – new job, grown up apartment, zumba classes. Had a tearful goodbye with my beloved scrapyard (who were happy for me that I was advancing myself, imagine that) and began a full time with benefits job in advertising. And no, it’s nothing like Mad Men.

Really, with the routine I have found myself in, I should have plenty of time to keep up with this. Lately, I’ve even had islands of time during my work day in which I’m completely caught up and can take a few minutes breather, but my computer screen faces the door so anybody could stick their head in and see I’m updating a blog. The internet has some image or e-card or something that says “My fondest wish is to have a job where only I can see my computer screen.” Where’s the trust? She asks, as she writes a blog in a word document to throw off the scent at noon on a Friday.

The thing about having a steady job and a nice place to live with a schedule and a routine that is the same every day is that nothing really interesting happens to me anymore. I love it, I’m such a creature of habit, but life sometimes falls into a quiet sameness like rocking back and forth on a calm ocean on a sunny day. Maybe one day it will get on my nerves and I’ll go stir-crazy, but right now it’s sure as hell pretty nice. It’s not so much giving in to domestication as it is enjoying stability. I graduated college with a massive amount of debt into a job I was quickly fired from (twice), into almost a year of unemployment and then a year of a job that destroyed my mind, body, and will to live, to a part-time job handing out cash at a scrapyard that didn’t make nearly enough money but restored my faith in the American workplace, and now to a job with a sustaining salary that I can foreseeably stay at for a long, long time. Jesus Christ, can anybody blame me for actually wanting to go home, make dinner, clean up a little, watch Iron Chef and go to sleep at 10? Mmmmm, spiney lobster challenge.

Personally, I think it boils down to my selfish need to declare myself autonomous, to have things that are mine and didn’t belong to anyone else first, which I’ve never had before. Things have recently become mine:

1. Bed

2. Couch

3. Bookshelf

4. TV

5. Kitchenaid mixer

6. Whisk

7. Nesting rainbow mixing bowls

8. Bamboo spoons

9. Garlic press

10. Seat covers

11. Pillows

12. Shower curtains

13. Tea pitcher

14. Toaster

Of course, all these things are joint-owned and sometimes purchased solely by CS, but come on. We know who really owns the nesting rainbow mixing bowls.

But anyway. That’s how things are going. I’ll be back to regularly scheduled updating now – I feel like I have a few blogs backed up that could get posted. And if not, somebody guilt me out and I’ll start up on the next person’s birthday. Dad’s is in June.