Wednesday, April 20, 2005

29 and the World’s Alright (Almost)

Hi. I’m Josephine. 29 years, single and loving it. A senior features writer for a city magazine. Working my way up to editor. Then my own newspaper. It could happen! Right now, on the brink of another promotion. 20 years of education. A post-graduate degree in Literature. Six years of payslips. Could have been: a cartographer. A character in a book I had read was one. Sounded fascinating. Is there money in it? But I would get to go around the world right? I mean, you can’t possible dream up maps sitting at your desk.

Hi. I’m Josephine. 29 years, single and loving it. Gregarious and optimistic. I can cheer the black mood out of almost anybody. I like people. All kinds. Have long conversations with the maid, watchman, and the man at the post office. Women in trains confide in me. Kids think I’m a pretty cool “grownup.” And dogs come bounding up to me.

I’m Josephine. When I get cranky, I get really cranky. Wear out the carpet in my room, pacing up and down. Can’t let go easily either. Weep for months after a hurtful word the person who said it has forgotten about. Try too hard, I’ve been told. Can’t say no either. That’s when I get cranky. Talk too much. But you’ve got that by now.

Josephine. A do-it-yourself girl. I’ve painted the walls of my room. One wall is all orange and flowers. Love music. Classical, jazz, Broadway, and the blues. Never got a hang of rock. Though Bono is umm…. umm… Sang in the church choir for a while. Can even strum a few chords on the guitar. Will soon sign up regular lessons. Honest. Love trekking. Nature and all the blah! Next on the list: rock climbing. I’m a mad mall moll. My credit cards are usually maxed out. Make resolutions to straighten up every time I get the bills. But it’s an addiction. If this was America, I’d do therapy.

29 years old. Hmmm. The face in the mirror seems strange. Can people tell who I am from just looking at me? Does my face have character? I’m having a mid-life crisis, standing on the threshold of 30. Yes, 30 is mid-life for someone who’s 29. Where am I going? I mean, really, where am I going? Is this it? Am I missing something? Or what if after all this, it all goes nowhere. Shouldn’t it be bigger? Shouldn’t I bring about world peace? Discover the grand unified theory (Or should it be invent?)? Achieve Nirvana? Or is it about the all the small things? Will they all fall into place? Or will the jigsaw remain jagged? Will I have a granddaughter perched on my lap, listening wide-eyed to my stories, while I rock in the chair contently? Will there contentment at the end? Will there be contentment along the way? Who decides? Do I? Can I? Oh, how can I? Lie down. Don’t think............Don’t think, dammit!

Twenty-nine. Single and loving it. My space, my time. My terms. Loads of friends. But they’re dwindling. Getting married; moving on. Maybe I should call up my ex and ask if he would marry me. But I couldn’t take six months of whining, how would I take a lifetime? I can just picture his face if I did ask him. Maybe I should. Lol (yup, an im freak. Only with people I know of course, cyber sex not my cup of tea.) . But there’s Peter. Had a really nice time at dinner last night. Got my fingers crossed. :-)

Hi. I’m Josephine. 29 years, single and loving it. Each day I get out of bed and know I’ll make it through the day. But sometimes I funk it. Then I call up mom. She usually drives me up the wall. But she knows when I need a hug and it’s best one in the world.
Hi. I’m Josephine. I’ll figure it out someday. Or maybe not.

2 comments:

Manish Bhatt said...

Hi, I'm kat. And I say, someday you will. Some day soon.

Loved the post.

Manish Bhatt said...

The title reminded me, I swear it did,
Of a comic strip called 'The Wizard of Id'

There's a man on the watchtower, And he shouts out every friggin' hour

2 am and everything's alright,
3 am and everything's alright,

At 4 am though, the Huns attack with all their might,
But the King's knights refuse to go quietly into the night,

So they fight, and they fight, and they fight,
And lo! By 7am, everything is, once again, alright

:-)

Ye olde' rhymotitis!