A Quarter Life Crisis

Sleep is overrated. I'm going on the record that sleep is for the weak at heart. OK I am just saying that because I've been having a little case of the insomnia this week. Now this can stem from a number of places. At the start of the week the Best Friend, (that heifer) whom I love dearly called me a snob. It was troubling. My job has me on edge, I hate being new because I constantly feel the need to push myself beyond human possibility to be great. It goes way farther than putting your best foot forward (maybe I should talk to someone). I go balls out and try to do just about everything under the sun. (Given the financial market with lay off being a reality for everyone this isn't such a bad theory, the worker bee should be the last on the short list, right?) The rumor mill has it that a lot of people have gotten walking papers, I am not pink slip immune. This is perplexing to say the least.

And I can't quite get my mind around being called a snob. One thing you must know about me, I am not one to share. Crazy I know. Some time last week I was accused of being a one sided friend because I don't open up. Fast forward a week and I am calling everyone trying to get a feel if I'm truly nose in the sky snotty. Of course I can't see this side of myself but who would ever admit such a disgraceful thing. It's tantamount to saying you hate children, I can hear the lynch mob forming in the cube behind me. But anyways I told the Best Friend that although Mailroom Boy seems nice; attractive in that shy guy who gets nervous around girls sort of way, tall (Hallelujah)and holds my attention for more than nano second he still works in the mail room, ugh. And when I read that line back to myself there is uppity itchba dripping from the words, but I can't help it. Dammit I am a snob!

Anxiety mounting and if I suffered from panic attacks one would be on the verge and as a result I've lost the ability to sleep. Am I really a snob? I would like to think it's standards not some janky effed up pretentious BS, but I just don't know. I pulled out the infamous list. Over the years it's morphed and I like to think it's less shallow. One of the core components needed in an acceptable mate is drive. Can I be sure that someone who works in the mail room at 30 has drive? Of course Model Friend said you'd be surprised the number of millionaires who started in mail rooms. This I must google. Honestly it's not about the money. Come on folks I dated a man who worked selling jeans and was car-less. The most expensive thing he did for me was take me to a Tyrese concert because he got free tickets from a gracious customer. I never complained, why you ask because he had a plan. He was in school and pushing through adversity to better himself, that was admirable.

Raising this point just makes me look more like an elitist. Great now I'm presenting arguments synonymous with the I have black friends to defend not being a racist. It's getting worse. I don't see much sleep in my future.