wrap up

I really need to be in bed.  Really really really need to be in bed.  Tomorrow is going to be a long day and I still need to figure out what I'm going to wear and ugh tomorrow is going to begin in about 6 hours.

So rather than put together a real essay for all of y'all (embracing my Texas roots here - yes, I do have some.  not many.  but some.), I'm going to give you bullet points of why my life is really awesome or why my blog would be nauseating (and mostly fake) if I did this all the time.

+ First, I had an amazing weekend.  I went to Cornbelly's with my nieces.  They are adorable when they pretend to be scared, and even more adorable when we bond over mildly traumatizing experiences.  I'm so lucky to be close to them.  I wish I knew my brother Erik's kids better, but hopefully in time.

+ Second, the weekend got even more amazing when I bailed my roommate out of jail.  It's a true story.  Which merits its own essay complete with photographic evidence.  We picked her up and then went dancing in Park City.  It was a really good time.  Serious.

+ Third, I think some really great things are going to be happening soon - reconciliation and new territory and some awesome snacks to go along with both.

+Fourth, it feels really good to look at someone who wants desperately to matter and know that they are entirely insecure.  Hmmmm, that sounds really mean.  Someone tried to give me some relationship advice and the entire time, all I could think of was how utterly ridiculous this life philosophy that was being presented was.  What's more ridiculous is that I let it get to me, and thankfully I've got friends who ground me in reality.  Meaningful relationships don't come of the superficial, but of the deep and intense.  You say sixth date material, I say hour 2.  I mean, neither of us are married, so who knows who is right, but what I do know is he's fifteen years my senior and still dating girls my age sooooo.....

+ Fifth, the joy I get from my job probably isn't fair.  I never thought I was all that stylish, but I'm loving the creativity that I get to express every day when helping individuals feel great about themselves.  This is also deserving of its own essay, but the quick version is that I've got a serious complex about doing something worthwhile.  I'm not sure where it came from, be it parents or siblings or entertainment or my own strange psychosis, but I am fulfilled in knowing that I'm doing something that means something to someone.  However, there was always an extra caveat that spoke in the recesses of my brain saying, "but you need to be doing what everyone expects you to do and what everyone expects of an intelligent woman."

I never saw that as anything but a career that is high profile or impressive or hard to attain.  Because, naturally, that means I've arrived as a human being of extraordinary worth, right?

I sell clothes, you guys.  I sell high-priced fashion, some trendy, and some classic, to all ages of individuals.  I get hit on, I clean up your messy dressing rooms, I deal with commission drama, I literally have conversations about the importance of a tank versus a camisole.

This is not what I imagined.

I also didn't imagine that I would love it.  Some days I'm just selling designer denim to douchebags who flirt with me when their girlfriends are in the dressing rooms and some days I'm just selling 32 dollar t-shirts to girls looking for something for date night.  But some days I work with people and I learn who they are.  I discover why they're buying the item, and what role it's going to play in their lives.  I realize what's important to them, and if we're lucky, we actually become friends.  Some days I have people who come in and ask if I'm there, just because they trust me with their secrets and their frustrations and their exciting news.  Some days I pick an outfit and have a conversation and instead of leaving distraught and frustrated, they leave feeling a little bit better about themselves.

It's kind of crazy how life happens.

Maybe it doesn't matter to you, but knowing that I get to do something that I love, and knowing that I get to come home and write, and knowing that I am happy is really becoming enough.

This guy that I dated, he was always worried that I needed something to fulfill me.  I think he wanted family and life to simply just be enough.  And I have really successful family members that I need to live up to.

Like I said, being happy is becoming enough.  I'm still convincing myself, and it might take a little while, but for now I'm just going to love the joy of what I get to do.