Day 3 of the rest of my life

How do you decide what's worth blogging about? I don't think I actually "decide". I think I just know intuitively when something needs to go on my blog. If pressed, I might be able to come up with some criteria, but it wouldn't be the ones you might expect. I certainly don't restrict it to the things that would help me put on my best face for the cyberworld - ha. Honesty is a factor, but since you can't possibly write down every thought you have in a blog, you necessarily must filter it somehow and what is honesty then?

There's some stuff I feel like I should say: things like how sock culture has changed in the 4 years I've been away and it seems it is no longer OK to wear white socks, folded over. Cool are only those little anklets that in a bygone era used to have little puffballs attached to them and now emphatically don't. So I bought a 6-pack at Target. I'm coasting on survival skills now, and it certainly isn't in my interest to look so 4 years ago.

And I wanted to talk about my manipulative, passive-aggressive co-worker and how she decided to get in one more last stab at me before I left, but how she got too cocky and now she's in trouble.

And I bought a car. Or I guess not technically, yet. We go back on Monday to deal with the money part. I picked it out though: a Toyota Corolla. New, although I swore to myself that I never would. Mom, who's fronting me the money, therefore has some clout, and she was determined that I should buy a new one. I did tons of homework beforehand (here), so I didn't sound stupid or get ripped off too much, and I guess I am getting my (Mom's, but I'm paying her back every cent) money's worth. I am buying the car for $500 under blue book value and getting a pretty kick-ass warranty, but it is still going to cost me half of my take-home pay for this next year.

My dad started down the "maybe you can moonlight or do some translations or something to earn extra money" conversational path, but I cut him off. "Dad, work just about killed me last year. I am NOT getting a second job." Not going there. As a single person I can absolutely live off of my salary comfortably without having to scrimp or save or use my precious, precious free time to WORK. Bleh.

I wish I could be excited about the car, but I honestly don't care one fig newton about agonizing over "sand or silver?", or whether I need keyless entry. I just need a car, and I'm getting one. I do kind of feel like I'm being robbed of the emotions, though - aren't you supposed to bond with your new car, experience birth pangs and motherly instinct toward it? I just feel like I need a car, so I'm buying this one. Whatever.

I also would like to be excited about my new living situation, but the best I can muster up is some halfhearted tears. Of relief, to be sure, but dammit, I want to feel this. Overwhelming relief is a decent enough feeling for the first couple of days home but I am getting bored with it. I've heard that you know you are actually getting better when you realize that you have survival skills, but you aren't needing them. I am glad to be home, and I am relieved to leave the pressure chamber. But it seems like life is still all about anticipating what is going to hurt me and protecting myself from it. I guess I have to just wait it out.