Skip to main content

6:30 A.M. Independence

I finally seem to be getting off Cloud 9 and back to my life. Getting up at 6:30 in the morning and hitting the gym hasn't been done since I started swamping myself with work. This morning, I realized what I was missing. Leaving the gym and rushing back home to get ready for work made me nostalgic for the early days when I was absorbing my independence. Every choice in my life was of my making, every decision. If I decided to go to the gym, who would stop me? I only had to answer to myself.

When I moved into my apartment, it took me weeks before I would stay up past 11 P.M. I felt like I was still in my dorm or at home, where I had to be considerate of others. I made sure to pour my orange juice into a glass and not drink from the carton. If I cooked, I made huge portions because it was selfish not to cook for others. I didn't hang my hand-washed stockings and underwear in the bathroom; I hung them on the posts of my bed. I was still living at home in my mind. 

Then one day I woke up and realized I had to pay bills. $41 for the electric bill; $60 for cable; $56 for the telephone; $800 for rent. I sat in my home office and pulled out my newly minted check books and realized that I had a bank account, checking and savings. I had a life that I was starting. I was on my own.  

ON MY FUCKING OWN!

That meant I could guzzle milk and orange juice form their respective cartons and not worry about "germing the thing." I could track water from my long shower on the floor if I wanted; I'd be the one who'd have to clean it. I was independent. I pay my way; therefore, it's my way.

Before I landed my dream job, I was barely getting by. But I knew I had great marketing skills and I knew it would take me somewhere, even if that somewhere meant I could at least pay for my unaffordable apartment-no-22-year-old-should be-renting without feeling like it was killing me. I promised that if I got a better job, a job where my talents were utilized correctly, then the first thing I'd do is get a gym membership. And by 23 I did it. 

I did a lot at 23 and 24.

Now at almost 26, all I want to do is continue to secure my independence. 

And working out at 6:30 in the morning somehow makes me feel like I'm doing so.
Labels:

Popular posts from this blog

Goodbye, for Now

On Tuesday I turned 27. I am officially in my late 20s, fast approaching my early 30s. There was a local story about a woman who biked, ran, and exercised her way into her 40s. She started running a day before she was to turn 40, and by midnight, she entered her 40s with an exhaustive bang. Meh. I think I will fuck my way into my 30s, with a hopeful orgasm exactly at midnight. But that's three years away, so I can plan accordingly. Anyway, I know it's been a long time since I've updated this thing, and there is a reason: no time. Life has been quite busy. Work is more hectic than ever, and I am often working late into the evening and bringing work home. I don't even have time for a decent dinner. Dinner tonight was canned fruit cocktail in gross heavy syrup (I couldn't find it in juice) eaten straight from the can and a  Diet 7-UP. I was grateful for the time to consume even that. But how I dream of spicy veggie lo mein and shrimp in lobster sauce. At 3 a.m., ...
Read more

Money's Worth

This afternoon I decided to cash in a gift certificate to a "spa" in an unsavory part of town. A co-worker gave me a $50 certificate -- not including tip -- for a pedicure and massage for my birthday. I know, that's cheap, but it was worth a try. It's my birthday week, so a free massage and pedicure is deserved. I left work early for this "pampering" session. YOU GET WHAT YOU PAY FOR! The spa was some store-front dump that had NAILS, FEET, BODY SPA emblazoned across it. Right there, I should have known what I was in for. No one was in the "spa" except for an old Asian lady, who greeted me by saying, "What you want!?" I presented the certificate to her, which she snatched, studied, then sighed. "Sit down," she instructed me. I sat down in a leather swivel chair where the leather was peeling, and digging into my tender flesh. My pedicure was first. The pedicure consisted of dipping my feet into soapy water, prepared -- I swear -- ...
Read more

All Is Revealed

is name is *Jim. He lives in Naperville. He has two dogs. He's divorced. This info courtesy of a clueless Viv. I casually brought up the man in the blue shirt and black slacks to her and she spilled all. "Do you think he's cute?" Viv asked. (Bless her naive heart.) "Oh, I think he has a nice mouth," I said. Wink. Wink. Inside jokes to myself? I need to get a life. Night.
Read more