life as unplanned

Well, I think it's time to face the truth and say it out loud (or type it, rather). I am single. I am 23 years old, temporarily living with my parents, and single.

Now to some people, this wouldn't seem to be much of a problem. "Your 20s is the time to party wildly, live freely, enjoy the neon city-life, and soak up everything and everywhere with no inhibition - the only time to be responsible for only yourself!" they'll all say. "Do it now - you're only young once!" That's all well and good but, what happened to my plan? I had a perfectly laid out plan since November of my senior year of college: work at the huge public accounting firm for two to three years, earn my CPA, take the GMATs, get into USC's (SoCal, duh) part-time Masters of Taxation program, transfer within my firm to the LA or Orange County office, meet my dream man in California and proceed to live my connect-the-dot flawless life raising a family, making the big bucks, and soaking up the stellar rays of Southern California.

Anddd shit hit the fan - everything is flying up, up, up as if Isaac Newton never discovered gravity. My job, my living situation, my love life, my financial stability, my friends, my career. But what got in the way? Let's back up the bus for a second here.. beep, beep. I auditioned for Redskins Cheerleading (for the second time no less) and wait, what?.. I made it?! Well, check that off the list for succeeding in a hidden dream. The economy is tanking like Snooki's poof sans hairspray and I was laid off from the fancy public accounting firm - but the recruiters make sure to tell you that you must put it in a more attractive way.. "I was let go," "My position was eliminated," "It's an opportunity to explore other options." No. I was fucking laid off - let's not sugar coat this, fellas. And now, I am falling in love with the city of DC and making it my own. Hot 99.5 (the so addictive yet redundant poppy radio station) calls it the most powerful city in the free world - and you know what? They're kind of right. DC, despite its urban cookie-cutter crime and conflict, is an amazing place full of culture, history, and men that are a little more easygoing/less douchey than NYC but a little more serious/less pretentious than LA (okay, that was stereotypical hyperbole, but you know get what I'm saying). And I'm meeting such a wide array of people, I can't help but smile at the simplicity of it all.

So what happened then. Passion? I am dancing my heart out in DC with Capitol Movement Project and with the Washington Redskins Cheerleaders. Responsibility? I let go of the pride of complete financial stability after the lay-off and have accepted the fact that I must save, save, SAVE. Love? My ex-boyfriend and I were on a one-way track to forever but the railroad tracks slowly transitioned from new, shiny steel to splintery, broken wood. And now it feels like I'm at square one. Or square negative one, perhaps.

Oh, life. My affairs are in the air and I am desperately fighting for any ounce of dignity or professionalism I have left. I can't be completely frumpy - interviews are going well and I think I'm about to receive a great offer (let's not jinx it) next week. I'm saving up to buy a used BMW and for a sweet apartment (not in Bethesda and not a one-bedroom), I'm having fun and drinking for free in DC, dancing to my heart's desire, working out when I please, and you know what? I can honestly say I love my life! Even throughout all the heartbreak, the discontent, the failed plans, and the incessant nagging of my parents, I can honestly say I'm happy. What more do I need?

So screw the naysayers and let's quote Baz Luhrmann,

"Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you wanna do with your life - the most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives - some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't."

Amongst all the engagements and weddings, new houses and new jobs, newborn babies and other comforting signs of maturity that are swirling around me in the possession of others, I'll float along here in my happy bubble... As long as I'm dancing and drinking for free. And gentlemen, if the words "plethora" or "witty" aren't in your vocabulary, don't bother. Only if you have a plethora of wit.