Well, the tradeshow and Florida trip is over and went well by all accounts. I did nothing silly or stupid (although I did witness someone throwing his career away - or, more accurately, into the pool) and I managed to actually come to care a smidge about what it is I do. And now it's over and except for throbbing, swollen feet, I'm not really the worse for the wear.
Except, I am.
For some reason, I'm massively wound up, sad, angry, depressed, whatever. Probably because I was reading my alumni magazine today and found that there's all sorts of kids who graduated years after I did doing amazing things with their lives. And I'm still balancing my checkbook wondering when I'm actually going to be able to pay off my credit cards and/or afford a pair of curtains I desperately want.
In short, I'm feeling old and unaccomplished.
I know this is not really true, as I've actually had some amazing experiences, done some pretty cool things, and have a decent life to show for it. But still...
Garrison Keillor calls it the spring blues. Because the world, life, and everyone around us is telling us we should be happy and be enjoying every moment. And that's a lot of pressure to put on someone.
So I've got the spring blues. And I do the stupidest thing possible - I call my mother.
When am I going to learn?
Instead of listening to me or supporting me or anything helpful, she basically shut me down. Got off the phone faster than you could say Boo.
I listen to her whenever she needs it. I hear her tales of woe and misery and I do everything in my power I can to help. And she hangs up on me.
This helps me not at all.
To top it off, Mr. Zips is on his way over here and he's being very sweet and supportive and, you know what? I just feel like Marsha Mason in The Goodbye Girl.
I'm angry. And I don't want to lose it.