Yes. I’m here again.
This is that obsessive bit of my personality manifesting again. I could easily post this to my LiveJournal; however, I feel I need to regain what little control I had over my usage of correct spelling, punctuation, and grammar. Unfortunately, since I don’t intend to make writing my life, I don’t forsee this control reappearing with any impact any day soon.
I thought I’d take some time to explain my blog’s title. If it seems remotely familiar to anyone, it should. Check this out: http://www.quarterlifecrisis.com
Some years ago, a couple of women realized that a lot of 20-somethings had similar gripes about life after college, or just the 20-something life in general. Everyone had some form of the same problem no matter their geography or socioeconomic standing. They wrote a book that now has a sequel… I’ve always been enamored with the thought of making my contribution to the explanation of this phenomenon — lookit, ma! I gotta blog-thingy!
Three years into it, less than 4 months out of college, and I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing with my life. I should really get the first book, it would help me to organize this entry.
I’m in that limbo. That aggravating job-hunting limbo where I’m still trying to cling to the last vestiges of carefree student-hood and at the same time reaching for the independence of full-blown adulthood. In a few crass words, this sucks. Sucks big time.
Sending out resume after resume, each coupled with their own personalized cover letter, each being sent out with the hope that at least one of them will catch the eye of some anonymous HR employee. Which would eventually lead up to be being hired. Complete with benefits.
That’s another fixation of my life now. With the loss of the haven I’ve known for the last 21 years as school (yes, I’m including pre-school on this), there went my medical benefits too. I’m always on the search for the next thing in health insurance for the uninsured. Lucky me, I get to rely on excellent genetics for keeping me out of that sterile waiting room. And the last time I got sick, sadly was 5 short months ago, I was able to fight it off with some good eats and a strong mind. For some reason, I’m thinking I shouldn’t always rely on pure luck to get me through a vicious attack from some microbial scum. Those vaccines help. And you usually need insurance to get a shot of something. Or to get an x-ray.
My college has been chasing me around all summer asking me to file a claim for an x-ray done on my ankle. I call the insurance company, who tells me I need a bill. The hospital claims they sent the bill. So why, in my anal-retentive filing of such things, am I completely unable to find this bill of which they speak so highly of? I can find an enormous pile of “Please fill out this claim” letters. But no bill. I think if I got a bill, I’d remember getting it. Those things are scary and never meant to be forgotten. So, since getting that x-ray in early April, I have recieved no less than 10 “Please fill out this claim” letters and zero (0)(zilch)(nada)(no) hospital bills. Sneaky sneaky. It’s not appreciated.
Just watch, I’ll check the mail tomorrow, and I’ll get my 11th “Please fill out this claim” letter.
Damn it all.