My mind has nearly completely fractured, again. I feel like Humpty Dumpty in a lot of ways. And, it seems that it’s not just me noticing it this time. My boss called me into her office and gave me a brief talking to about how I’d seemed “distracted” lately, and that perhaps I should really think about what I wanted to do with my life. The whole thing was more than a little disturbing, ‘cos when even your boss notices that you’re fucked up, things should be taken stock of.

So I looked around, thought about my life, and decided that I still don’t have a goddamn clue what I want to do with my life. I’m thinking either film or fashion. I don’t have the wherewithal to combine them and become a costume designer. At least, I don’t think I do. To tell the truth, I haven’t even really looked into it. Which, perhaps, I should.

There are a few other pieces to this totally ludicrous puzzle. For starters, I know I want to go spend some time in England. I’ve got to do something independently, and I’ve always loved it there, though have never spent time in London or on my own. So, I’d like to go to a school that offered some sort of study abroad option, with England as a possibility. Also, money’s always a factor. I come from a nice, sturdy middle-class family who lives in Manhattan. This means that I am generally unable to get much financial aid, despite the fact that my parents would be (at that point) putting two children through college. Again.

Finally, this is most distressing, psychologically. It’s all too Senior Year of High School for me. I thought I was past this. I thought I’d figured this shit out. Apparently not. And I know that I’m neither the first, nor the last person for whom this has happened, but it’s still annoying. Plus, I sometimes hate being proven right. I knew when I submitted my withdrawal that unless I went back immediately, I wouldn’t go back. Everyone told me not to be silly, but here we are two years later, and I’m still living at home, having only completed one and a half years of college. And the half doesn’t even really count as I was a) batshit and b) granted a retroactive withdrawal. Which was great for my GPA, but kind of negates, on paper, the hell I went through trying to stick it out in Albany.

It’s all just so frustrating.

Anyway, added to which, I’m in financial trouble. Not so bad that I can’t get my head out of water. Just bad enough that I have to stay at home, trying to make the best of a strained situation. I love my parents and they me, but my time at University got us all used to the idea of my living away from home. So now things are difficult. I’m not a kid, which we all know. But sometimes my parents can’t help but pull the old “not under my roof,” which is so frustrating. Because I’m 22 years old, and I feel (as do most people) that it’s my job to make mistakes, and challenge myself, and all that. I just have to figure out a way to make this work.

I have to clean my room, get the crap furniture out, clean up the decent furniture, fix the door to my room (yes room, we live in an apartment), and try to figure shit out…

I just keep thinking of England, and the opportunity to meet new friends, and see the family I understand.

Which is, I suppose, another of my problems. I’ve never been very good at relating to my American cousins. They think and act in ways that are so different from my own. My sister sort of straddles the fence there, but they and I have always been on different sides of it. We’ve tried, especially now that we’re older, to reach a middle ground, but we’ll never “get it”. Which may be sad but is true. In the meantime, my English family was never a problem. The way they interacted with each other, and later with me, was so familiar. Perhaps it’s the result of being socialized mainly by my dad. Or perhaps it’s just that I take so much after him. Whatever the reasons, it’s very difficult knowing that the only family you have that “get” you are across the Atlantic. Which is, I s’pose, better than some.

Maybe my first act should be to get back into therapy. Except that we’re switching coverage in my office, which means I have to wait, if I want to stay on plan.

Alright. Plan B: cups of tea & whinging along with a healthy dose of staring at ludicrous pictures and reading hobbit porn.