Firstly… much to my utter excitement, I have been featured at the supermelon, in their Real Style segment. My very first feature! I am so very excited about this; I can hardly contain it (!!!). Not to mention, honored to be mentioned among the many other talented & fashionable women in the blogosphere. Thank you so much, Jenna, for doing this for me, & for being so kind. Yay! :]

On another note…

I am having a real, honest to goodness, semi-quarter life crisis. This has been claimed before, yes, but I was being melodramatic. This time, it’s so absolutely real that it’s horrifying. As in House on Haunted Hill horrifying, circa 1959, with Vincent Price. Let me try to explain…

I had a lovely conversation with my Grandfather, on my father’s side, last night. Even though we barely have a tangible relationship (I haven’t seen him in at least 4 years), I was blatantly reminded that it was his birthday & decided to reach out & wish him well. I’m an adult now, after all, & I couldn’t think of a good enough excuse not to call him. Guilty conscience, mostly. Surprisingly, it was nice to chat with him; except when he started raving about how many times he’s read the Bible, cover to cover. (29 times, he says. Each time we speak, that number grows a little larger.)

He was very attentive to what was going on in my life & asked questions about Lover & married life. I told him things were doing just fine; that married life was fun, an adventure, & that I was really happy. Then he asked how my job was going, & I winced as I replied, “Oh… I’m not… working right now.” He asked me why not, as though maybe I had an accident & was bedridden, or something of that nature. I completely stumbled over my words in a very un-confident way, telling him that I had left my salon job after recent drama & had the intention (yes, I really did!) of going back to work somewhere, but just got too comfortable being at home. & now, I’m simply stuck here, in my comfort zone, being a happy housewife.

At least I was honest; I could have used one of the many other stories I tend to conjure up so that my pride won’t suffer.

After my desperate & somewhat lengthy explanation about why I’m not working, he just said, “Oh… okay then.” He didn’t ask anymore questions. He didn’t drill me about how I should be in college, getting a degree to make him proud (with grandparents, there isn’t any other reason but that). He just said, “Oh… okay then” & went on to ask me how my mother was doing.

While I was feeling deeply relieved that the subject didn’t get pushed to oblivion, I was deeply disturbed by my own answer. For the rest of the night, I kept asking myself, “Ev’Yan… why aren’t you working? I mean, really… why not?!” I could hear the bloody answer loud & clear in my ears, but refused to except it & said to myself: “No, that’s not a good enough answer. Why aren’t you working, for Heaven’s sake? Why aren’t you doing something with your life? Where are you going, Ev’Yan? What are you doing??”

Last night, I couldn’t bear the sound of my own realizations, but I think today I am ready to face them.

Why am I not working, you ask? Well, it’s simple really… it’s because I am bloody scared. I’m scared to be confined to a job that makes less than rational money. I’m scared to find myself going through the same old routines; wake up, get dressed, go to work, get stressed, come home, eat dinner, go to sleep stressing about another lifeless tomorrow. (The “turn, smile, shift, repeat” syndrome.) I don’t want to sell my preciously creative soul to the 9-5 Devil.

I want to be free. I want to inspire myself with my own whimsical ideas. I want to bask in the glory of life daily. I want to live on my own schedule, MY own time clock, doing what I want to do. I don’t want the wretched commitment — the scary commitment — of going to work everyday.

That’s the honest to goodness truth; I’m a ‘fraidy-cat. I’ve gotten far too comfortable being the doting housewife, making dinners, cleaning house, running errands & taking care of our dog, Sofie. While this is all good & well (not to mention, helpful because if I don’t do these things, who will?), I am 21-freaking-years-old. I shouldn’t BE the doting housewife. No, [supposedly] I should be going to college. Or contributing to the world by working a seemingly endless job. If not that, I should be making babies.

It’s almost shameful of me, I think, to tell people that I don’t do anything; that I’m just… a housewife. I don’t have children; I should not be a housewife. (Although… I have to say that back in the olden days, women without children would stay at home & keep up the house, doing things like making pies & wearing aprons & vacuuming. This was in the 1950s, of course, & I do realize that this is 2008… but I am extremely comforted by those traits & wish that it would be socially acceptable for me to do so these days.)

That bloody question — “What do YOU do?” — is always asked to me. & each time, I quickly come up with something that doesn’t sound too pathetic while being completely believable. I tell people that I am an amateur writer; this answer only brings up another question: “Oh, what do you write?” to which I reply, “Everything.” Not the most stable or sufficient answer, but it raises eyebrows & keeps me honest.

I realize now that I need a resolution to this problem of mine. I need to find something to do with my spare time, whether it be a hobby or a bloody job; something that will make me feel less guilty & more confident when being asked that dreaded question. I need direction. I need a path to take because right now I feel as though I am wandering about in circles.

I need to find my spirituality. I need to find something (someone) to believe in; I need desperately to re-discover my faith. I need to know where I’m going.