Snow Sucks.

I’m sensing a pattern here. Oh well. At least 30% of my personality is sarcasm, and when it comes to bad things like snow and colds, that’s how I fight them off. It would be nice if words could really have an affect on those things.

Yea, I know. Snow isn’t necessarily BAD. If you aren’t sick, don’t have any place you have to go, and don’t have mothers who will be all alone if you aren’t there to shovel. Then snow is fine. But I have to work tomorrow, which I could deal with. I really want to go to NY though. I didn’t get to see Nick last weekend, and I definitely want to see him this weekend.

That’s the thing. My dad will be away this weekend, so if it snows my mom will have to shovel. By herself. My brother might help, but still. I’m not sure. She doesn’t have any boots, either. Way to put the pressure on. I know the right thing would be to be there to help her, but that means doing absolutely nothing all weekend and not seeing Nick. This relationship is hard enough, without going weeks apart.

But I’m sure it will be fine. I’m just going to see what happens, and go from there.

Ok, side note. You know what I really, really, wish? I really wish that I could have a job that involved helping people. That made a difference in someone’s lives. Preferably lots of someones. I have no idea what that is. But I would like it if the 90% of my time that is spent working I could think, yea, I’m doing something here that’s good. That isn’t pointless.

It just seems so pointless, a lot of the time. So much time is spent working, I feel like my life is going to go by and be over before I even know what I did with it.

I know that a lot of people have similar issues like this. And I’ve been trying to volunteer and do things for a while now, on the side. But that feels like barely anything; an after thought. I want to help people. I mean really help them.

Sometimes, I feel like I’m in the wrong family. Not because it isn’t loving or amazing. My family is one of the best you can get. And my parents are supportive of a lot of the things I do. They are the type of people who have taught me to be compassionate. They are the type of people who also want to help others. But my mom…she would be supportive of that except if it ever put me in danger. I feel like perhaps I might have done more of my life if she wasn’t so afraid of me doing that. Maybe I’m just a coward. I’m pretty sure that’s the truth of it.

You are not a product of your environment. I know this. I know that if I was truly strong enough, I could have done anything I wanted to had I just found the courage to go through with it. Courage. That thing that lets you take action despite any fears you may have. But I guess I have just never been strong enough. I have plenty of pretty ideas that never grow into anything more. Not really. Or at least, not many of them.

It’s so hard to sort through what you should do. The idea of what the right decision is. It’s not so black and white. I mean, some are. Of course. Like you should never drown puppies. That’s bad. Pushing old ladies out of the way, also bad. But there are so many others that I just can’t wrap my head around.

I’ve always wanted to do something more. Right now, I work in a cubicle. 8 hours a day, 1 hour for a break. It’s a good job. I can’t deny it. It’s probably more than I deserve. But the idea of spending most of my time doing that for the rest of my life can be rather depressing. Anyone in my family would only have be feel bad for saying that. Like somehow I’m a bad person for wanting more. As if, by saying that it’s unsatisfying I’m saying that I’m lazy and that I don’t want to pull the weight that everyone else in the world has to. But that’s not it, at all. It’s sort of the opposite. I want something that inspires me to work extra; not just go through the motions.

But I haven’t found that. I wasted many years of my 20’s sitting around thinking it would pop up by itself and feeling sorry for myself instead of finishing college and trying to work towards it. So although the feeling hasn’t disappeared, I’m not sitting around anymore. I’m not chasing it, necessarily either. I want to work hard at what I’m doing. Yet I refuse to give up on the idea. What’s the point of life if we let go of all our dreams? I want to do something more. And one day, I believe that I will. I know I’ll find the courage. I know it’s hard. I might not be able to get it right away. But little by little, I’ll find it.

I’m 26 years old. If anyone else were to ask me, I would tell them it’s never too late for anything you want to do. Of anyone else, I would always truly believe that. For some reason, I have gone through my whole life rarely believing the things for myself that I would for others.

So. Maybe I can finally change that point of view. I believe. Yes, it’s cheesy and yes I’m not the only one out there who every has felt this way. Good. BELIEVE. Because saying something cheesy is usually just a cover up for what we really think. Or what we won’t allow ourselves to think.

Dreaming is not cheesy. It’s human. Wanting to believe in yourself is human. I am a human being, just like every last one of you. And it’s ok to want those things.

By the way; snow sucks! ;-D