I am in the process of trying to move 3,000 miles away. It’s all very exciting, but it includes trying to find an apartment, which is not that easy when your list of requirements includes things like: 1) some level of clean between a hoarder and OCD – preferably neat but okay with being borderline unsanitary, but like just borderline, 2) A dog or a cat already there so that I can have the benefits of a pet but not the responsibility because I won’t have time and I’m kind of irresponsible, 3) roommates who are reasonably subdued during the week, but up to party on the weekends, but, like, sometimes up to party during the week, but also able to STFU when I’m cranky after work. I’ve already turned down three places: one because the woman was slightly too old for comfort, one because the commute was too long, and one because the girl’s response to a question about what she does for fun was, “I just love to play board games.” . . .Uuuhhhh
Don’t get me wrong, I love a good board game night now and then, but I worry when that’s your only response.
Did you mean board drinking games? Or like, stripping? Is there stripping?
The process of looking for an apartment includes interviews obviously, and a lot of the question, “So what are you into?” Or, “What do you do outside of work?” And, I have realized something: I HAVE NO INTERESTS. Law school robbed me of all depth and intrigue. The first time someone asked me I almost sputtered, “Um, Facebook? Gchat?”
Sometimes I tweet, and then people RETWEET IT!!
My next best answer was, “I’m really into TV and movies.” Which, in my flabbergasted state turned into, “And like, I don’t mean this in a nerdy way, but I just really love pop culture, and analyzing it, and I mean I read a lot of blogs and stuff, and I actually think people generally don’t realize that like pop culture is kind of important and should be taken seriously because it’s totally a time capsule of society’s response to what’s happening in the world right now. So yea, like, I really love that stuff.”
Any chance you don’t now think I’m a future unabomber?
I’m honestly distressed by this whole revelation because I swear I used to be a vaguely interesting person. I *did* things. But now I can’t even remember what those things were. WHAT WERE THEY?! Were they fun? How did I survive three years without them? WHO AM I??
I posed that last question to the internets and it answered “Ask Kerouac.” Am I a hippie internet? A novelist? YOUR RESPONSE IS TOO CRYPTIC.
Do I return to my old things? Do I find new things? WHAT ARE MY THINGS? WHO ARE MY PEOPLE? I think I liked to read books at some point. Yes. Yes, that’s right I used to read. Memoirs, Nonfiction, Romance, Fantasy, SciFi, American classics. I used to READ. Should I joint a book club? Oh wait, there was a time when I knitted things. Cute things. Oh and I went to museums. I LOVE MUSEUMS. And music – I used to spend time searching for new music and keeping my music library OCD levels of organized, and I used to ride horses, and hike, and I even loved camping and also shopping. I don’t even remember the last time I went shopping – unless you count internet shopping for the one specific item I desperately need (see image above depicting the internet addiction that constitutes socializing in law school). Do you understand what this means you guys? I GET TO DO THINGS AGAIN!! FAHREEEEDOOOOOM!!
This. Minus the hateful drunken spiral. Hopefully.