Ah, the week before rent is due. Working in property management isn't all it's cracked up to be. When I first started as a weekend receptionist- ecstatic! Office, fly job. But now I'm the manager of this place, having been here for over two years, and I'm desperately searching for an escape route. Distrusted by the bosses without reason, micromanaged, undervalued.

True story: My boss can't string together a grammatically correct sentence for the life of her. I have a four year degree, trying to get on the band wagon to get my master's, and my boss is somebody who didn't understand the word "convenient" when written. She got upset and confused and said I couldn't write that on the sign, because "people wouldn't understand it." Let's get this straight: SHE couldn't understand it, so therefore nobody can. End of true story.

I'm looking at a few immediate options now.
1) Find a new full time job that offers competitive pay and health benefits.
2) Find a new full time job with questionable pay but might be worth it to not be miserable.
3) Move back to my parent's house, tail between my legs, leaving my fiance a state away at his somehow well paying job.
4) Suck it up and be an adult or something.

Decisions.

Most of my apprehension revolves around my fiance. If I leave my job, I leave my apartment. I have no choice in being able to stay in my home- I have to leave. So it's not just a job change, it's a job change slash apartment search/deposits/utilities headache as well.

Growing up is the pits.

Year One.

Nobody, nobody, nobody tells you just how awful life after college is.

I loved every minute of high school and college. As a high school freshman, I knew that if I were to exceed expectations in school work and extracurricular activities, I would be setting a foundation for a successful future. So, I excelled. I was busy 24/7 with extracurriculars, homework, classes, reading, and friends. I knew a bunch of people. I hung out. I was lazy. I slept in. I woke up early. I stayed up late. I was either a regional, state, or club officer for so many activities. I volunteered. I was an honor student, with over a 3.6 throughout high school and college. At time stressful, but I loved every minute. I loved being busy and knowing I was helping people. I loved knowing some people looked up to me. I loved playing a Superwoman.

And then I graduated college with a BA in Art History, minor in Humanities. I had a plan. Stay at my current full time job, just until my fiance finished his degree. Get my master's online through a prestigious university for museum studies. Get married. Have a fabulous job, preferably at the Smithsonian.

And then.

I was rejected from said prestigious university.

Fiance dropped out of school to pursue a full time job to pay off his bills.

And I am still at my full time job, hating it. Not having any more education under my belt. 40 hours a week of my superior, an old hag who can't put together a coherent, grammatically correct sentence, who micromanages to an extreme as a way to not feel completely inadequate. I graduated college almost exactly a year ago. And here I am.


Where I am now, there's not much sun except for the few summer months. I grew up in a place where it was sunny all year 'round, even on Christmas. I grew up yearning for a white Christmas. For snow. For seasons, at the very least. Why didn't anybody tell me to enjoy it? That I would severely miss it, sleeping in the sunshine coming through the window?

Coping is hard. Going to three classes a day, and then an easy part time job, and then a little homework every night is preferable to 40 hours a week under management who couldn't care less. 

I was supposed to have excelled by now. I was supposed to be smarter by now. I was supposed to be great by now.


I just need a plan. I need to write. I need to get it out.


Turn around if you want some inspiration blog about how great their life is. How wonderfully rich and cultured and experienced they are. You won't find that here. 

Maybe one day, I hope, but not now.