the young and the restless

I've cleaned out my closet 3 times in the past two months. I bought two new mascaras. And seriously considered dying my hair. If I lived alone (and had the space to actually to do so), I would have rearranged the furniture in my apartment at least once.

I'm restless again.

Do you ever have those days? Those weeks? Those months? Where you’re looking around at your life and thinking something has to change. Maybe not a big thing, necessarily. Then again, maybe so. But maybe it's just something tiny. Something in the everyday details.

Part of me feels like I'm living in this worn-out, over-sized, old sweatshirt. I'm comfy and cozy. I generally like where I'm at. I like who's around me. I like what I see when I look out my window. It's familiar. It's safe. It's nice.

But then part of me doesn't feel comfortable at all. Feels like it's time to shed that lazy lounge wear and get my butt in gear. Part of me wonders when comfort becomes complacency. And complacency is just not something I'm comfortable with. I just can't deal with the idea of settling.

And so there's restlessness. One of the very worst feelings. It's just dull and boring and itching and twitchy. It's like you're just waiting for the heat of something to pull you towards it. Waiting for the passion to move you in the right direction. Just waiting.

I generally like to get where I'm going.

I walk too fast. I tend to drive just a little over the speed limit. I pay my bills ahead of time. I get that assignment due Friday done on Wednesday. I don't do well with the slow and scenic route. If I know that there's a destination, I just want to get. there. already.

So waiting? And restlessness? Not really my cup of tea.

I want to move. I want to do. I want to be calling the shots. I want to be in control.

And yet I'm back in the antsy mode, wondering what comes next.

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one, wild and crazy life? - Mary Oliver

i know you are, but what am i?

They say as a writer (so I'm assuming as a blogger) you're supposed to write what you know. You know, write what you're feeling. What you're experiencing. What's real. And maybe that's why I haven't written much lately. I'm not sure what I know at the moment. Things I thought I knew just don't seem as steady as they did before. And so I've got nothing to write.

So maybe instead of what I know, I should reach out to what I don't know...

I don't know how to hang on to an umbrella for more than 2 months. An El train. A cab. A restaurant. The salon. All of these are obstacles that stand in the way of me actually owning an umbrella for any length of time. Why those bad boys don't come with some sort of strap to hang around your wrist or something... Oh wait...

I don't know how to use our coffee pot at work. I don't think it's that it's particularly fancy or top-of-the-line or anything. It just sits there on the counter, looking all intimidating. Taunting me every morning. If it were my own coffee pot, in the safety of my home, I might just give it a whirl. But who wants to be one to blame when everyone is complaining about the coffee around your 9am meeting? Not this girl. And so, every morning, I get to work early. And wait. Wait for someone else to come in and start up the pot. God bless you, brave soul.

I don't know how 27 and 3/4ths is supposed to feel. Older? More responsible? More grounded? And I better figure it out fast because 28 is quickly approaching and I certainly don't know how to be 28.I don't know how to get from here to there. Here, of course, being now. Today. The present. To there. The future. Where I'm supposed to be. What I'm supposed to be doing. Who I'm supposed to be.

I don't know why it's April 18th and it's snowing. And, for that matter, I don't know why I live in Chicago in the winters.

I don't know how in the world the Indians are leading the AL Central. I don't know how they're above .500, much less 12-5, for that matter. And, while we're at it, I don't know if I could name more than about 5 players on this years roster. And I call myself a fan...

I don't know how two people ever fall in love in this world. I just don't know how it ever happens. That they're at the same place at the same time. That one of them actually gets up the idea to go talk to the other. That someone feels a spark. That they actually meet up again. And again. And again. And the timing's just right. (Or at least not horribly wrong.) That they both like each other enough to give it a shot. And when they do, that they both fall in love... It's just mind-blowing to me. How does it all work out?

I don't even know how to be a girlfriend.

I don't know how to walk into lululemon and not spend at least $100 dollars.

I don't know.

I just don't know.