How Did This Happen?

Okay, I'm sorry. I know I promised to write every day when I know I shouldn't have. I have never been good at writing in diaries or journals. My one childhood diary was speckled with stories that covered ages 7 to about 17 in maybe 10 pages. I flipped through it and read one entry where I exclaimed I had gotten my period and then the next entry was about trying out for the cheerleading squad in 10th grade. So much for consistency.

My therapist was very pleased to hear of my blog and encouraged me to tackle issues that I felt were important. For awhile I was stuck, trying to come up with something to say, but now I have a notion.

It is obvious that I like the finer things in life. I love shopping, especially for shoes and purses. I believe every woman should treat herself to some serious time in a day spa. I like nice cars, nice vacations, and nice jewelery. But I am willing to work for them. Actually, I prefer to get them for myself. I don't want to depend on anyone for anything (except if my parents insist on giving it to me).

So I did what everyone says you are supposed to do. I went to college, got good grades; went to graduate school, got good grades; went on interviews; got good offers; got a good job. I have money to do the things I mentioned above in moderation and I am certain that if I stay in my current field there will be of plenty opportunities for advancement in the public or private sector. So this is all great. It worked exactly as I had planned.

Except for one detail.

I hate this shit.

I hate what I am doing.