O God. Please bless this Trader Joe’s frozen meal that I am eating. Your merciful bounty is absolutely appreciated as I enjoy this totally delicious meal at $6.99, while not feeling too guilty that I am scarfing it down over the kitchen sink at 8:45p, because TJ’s is “classy” and “way better than that shit from Pavillions.”
Loving Yahweh, please help me to know that it’s okay that my life is in shambles. When I look at the 4-week pile of laundry that is 1 part work clothes, 1 part barely-used workout gear, and 1-part slutty club wear, I may not feel adult. I may feel ashamed when I find the random Claire’s feather earring among the pile, or the business card of that douchey lawyer that tried to hit on me whose info I absolutely took in exchange for a tequila shot. Help me to remember that I am (You-willing) only around a quarter way through my life (as long as this drinking doesn’t catch up with me), and that grown-up, matching-socks-and-not-so-much-Forever-21-dresses-laundry can wait until later.
And, when I am tempted to miss the morning meeting, O Lord, because I am in an intense text discussion with either my boyfriend (“okay, but what do YOU want for dinner?”), that guy-I’m-seeing-but-don’t-really-know-where-we-stand (because I’m STILL TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHERE WE STAND), my best friend (about what a nuisance her ex is being), or my mom (as I beg for Vegas money), that part of this transitional phase is learning to make good choices. So, I will put my phone on vibrate, and stick it screen-upwards in my purse, while I act adult in the morning meeting. Please, Father, grant me patience as I slowly pick my Costco croissant apart while I hear each vibration of my phone and wonder what people are saying.
Also, God, please grant me stealth-like qualities as I slip out with my phone “to the bathroom” so that I can actually read all the text messages that came in the last 10 minutes.
O God, grant me serenity about boys. I know that science, Glamour, and the random all-girl health class I took in middle school have taught me that boys are about two years emotionally less developed than I am. I get that. I really do. But ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS SHIT?! Because, honestly, I can’t with them. I really can’t with them. The amount of time, effort, nonsense, and concealer-money I put into this shit is absolutely ridiculous. I mean, if I had the wherewithal or forthright thinking to actually keep a budget sheet, it would probably show me that 50% of my budget is spent on boys; whether it’s looking hot for them, or covering Burning Man tickets because I will, on occasion, date boys that do not know how to manage themselves and ergo convince me to pay for things we don’t need.
God, that’s probably an exaggeration. I think it’s closer to 15%. My bad.
But, really now, I’m a grown-ass woman. I pay most of my bills on time. I have degrees, maybe even a graduate degree. I work out occasionally (if you count dancing-at-the-clubs and sporadically-trying-Pilates). I try to buy nice stuff at the Banana Republic sale shelf, Forever 21, and H&M. I make good conversation, I am passionate about the world, and have an interest in craft brew beers. I care about being a good kisser, and will watch all four Die Hard films with someone. I shouldn’t have to go on this many horribly awkward first-coffee-dates with a guy that can barely speak to me.
When one does speak to me, I would also appreciate if it could work out sometimes. Can’t we all just be HONEST with each other? I get that you may not be ready to be with me, but can you tell me that before I tell my mom about you?
I am over guys that act cool, then text me “sorry bro :(” when they bail because they are “still into that chick from hs debate team,” or “need to spend more time on their blog.” ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS SHIT?!
I MEAN, I JUST WANT TO MAKE OUT AND HOLD HANDS WITH SOMEONE THAT IS NICE, SMART, FUNNY, AND TELLS ME THAT I’M PRETTY AND COOL SOMETIMES. WHY IS THAT SO HARD TO FIND?!
God, grant me patience.
Also, grant me the wisdom to feel unfettered joy when I am blessed and lucky enough to find a guy that is funny, nice, smart, and a good kisser. That guy is really awesome. He probably deserves more trust and care than I am willing to give in this moment.
O Lord, help me find joy in the small things. I am pretty psyched when I find out that there’s a Gap sale, or that when I say, “Give me boops!” my cat snuggles into my nose. I hope You are psyched as well. Really, though, I’ll try and remember more that I’m pretty lucky. Those moments when I’m riding in the back of hummer limo for my best friend’s birthday, laughing hysterically at what is happening, or just sitting on a girlfriend’s couch watching Parks and Recreation while drinking Cupcake wine are essential and perfect. I don’t know what I did to deserve them. Thanks for those.
Oh, also, please grant me patience and wisdom while I try and figure out what the fuck I want to do with my life. I had dreams. I have many degrees. I had a passion. Why is that so hard to turn into a career? Please, try and make the economy less shitty so that I can actually pursue something of the career I had in mind. Also, if You could keep an eye on me while I work a corporate job to pay the bills, work as a hostess in a seedy kareoke bar that I tell my parents is a “five-star establishment” so I can go on auditions, or troll Craigslist as I apply for unemployment, the sentiment is really, really appreciated.
O LORD, please, give patience to my parents. They love me more than I deserve. They are more caring, invested, loving, and patient than I have earned any right to merit. I know I don’t call as much as I should. Please, let them know that I still love them. That I know they did everything for me. That, whether it’s a quiet moment in my car or a split-second while I order a drink at the bar, I know that I would be nothing without their patience, guidance, and love.
God, please, just let me know that I’m not alone. I know I’m in a weird place in my life. When you’re wrapped in Target throw-blankets drinking straight from the bottle of Trader Joe’s Zinfandel (remember, it’s classy), it’s hard to know that every generation feels that they are in a silver second of change, where everything can be different. I know that I’m living a little on the cusp right now.
So, while I can’t help but feel the twinge of embarrassment, disgust, and envy when I see a Facebook friend get engaged, please tell me that it’s okay that I’m in this really weird place where nothing feels set and everything is tenuous. I know it could all go away in a second.
But that’s a blessing in its own right, isn’t it? That I have the ability to go with the flow and try something out if I want to. I don’t think that my parents had that. So, if anything, give me the wisdom, love, patience, and trust to enjoy that as much as I can, while I can.
So, this post came to me while I was running. It does not all pertain to me, and a lot of it is the combination of my experience AND that of my friends. Either way, this goes out to being in a really awkward place in our lives— no matter where that may be. <3