It was today.
I didn’t see this coming.
Not one bit.Here’s the thing: I’m in the last few weeks of my graduate program. I’ve finished final projects. There are only a few small tasks left to finish. Besides applying for jobs and interviewing with people that kind of like me, I have an unnaturally large amount of free time. Today was a strange Saturday because after doing laundry, finishing my final globalization project, writing some letters, cooking, watering my plants, and cleaning up my digital files on my computer, I had nothing to do. Was it appropriate to knit when it was super hot outside? What about hand-sewing my felt Xmas chain? That’s when I realized it: I had become a shut in. WTF? (By the way, I had time to listen to NPR today and I learned that WTF is now a word all its own and isn’t an acronym for words my parents dislike anymore. Yep.)
Could it be? I wondered. I started to think of all the Saturdays I have spent in the last few months: McMenamins with my parents, hanging out with my sister, my birthday party with family, more time with my parents, New York, chilling with my nieces, homework, UFO festival with my big brother. Rarely have I spent time with people on the weekend who aren’t obligated to like me at least a little bit because we’re stuck in the same bloodline. Oh my word. My jerky friend was right.
A few years ago, when I was living with my parents, one of my oldest friends called me a hermit. She told me that I was relying too much on my family and that I needed to spend time with people I wasn’t related to. I was appalled by her comment. And, I totally disagreed. I claimed to be readjusting to life in America. For me, family was at the center of that. But though it worked back then, at this point, I am the sole single person in my family. Most members of my family have legally bound themselves to another, thus changing their life priorities AND adding to their extended bloodlines and friendships. As the only remaining unattached child, I can basically be expected to go to my parents’ house for every holiday so that I don’t sit it alone. Don’t get me wrong. I love spending time with my parents. I just don’t know if it’s useful to be a 32 year-old single woman who likes to knit and hangs out with her parents all the time. I refuse to get the cats OR get my library science degree just because I already see the impending doom. (However, if I don’t get a job in the next few months, I would totally go for my master’s in library science because seriously, books are cool.)
I think it’s time to leave the house and branch out a bit more. Now that there’s no homework to stress me out constantly, I ought to get into something else… perhaps a conversation now and again. That’ll probably kill the hermitesque skin I’ve grown in the first two years of my thirties.
Tata for now.