Editorial Assistant

So, I've got this new job....
I've been temping 2 days a week at a health and science educational publisher here in town for the past 3 months or so and yesterday my supervisor told me that they would be hiring an editorial assistant soon and she'd like me to apply.
I was so excited. Then I was scared. Then I realized it doesn't pay anymore than I make now. Then I was excited about the prospect of having a job where raises and promotions are an option. Then I started freaking out. Then, I got excited again.
I haven't even told my parents yet. Part of me is resisting admitting that this is really happening because, while it is wonderful, it is not what I wanted. It might be better than what I wanted (and let's face it, I can't actually define what that is anymore), but proofreading chapters on scabies and festering ulcers was not on my radar.
I LOVE the people I work with. The team I'm on is small and I cannot say enough nice things about the editors I've been assisting. I'm oddly shy when I'm there, which I think kind of makes me come off as a bitch, but for right now I'm just trying to not screw up too bad.
So that's where I'm at. I basically decided not to worry about what would happen in August, when my nanny job ends and my paycheck goes with it, and the good Lord has worked this out on my behalf. I am struggling to be grateful, but it's a good kind of struggle. It's forced me to take a good look at my selfishness, my propensity for delusion. Let me just say that it has not been easy but it has been good. Why do people resist counseling? It's so illuminating.
While I still dream of winning the lottery so that I can spend years abroad, I am happy to say I no longer live in the fucked up mindset of believing that it might actually happen. And as much as it kills me to write this, I am very much looking forward to building a 401k (once I figure out what that actually means)! I have a lot of peace about being single, adore my rent-free apartment, am more than halfway done with paying off my credit cards and have begun saving for my Dirty 30 trip to Europe next summer.
Life is good!

Carpe Diem

From Wikipedia:

Carpe diem is a phrase from a latin poem by Horace. It is popularly translated as "seize the day". In Horace, the phrase is part of the longer Carpe diem quam minimum credula postero – "seize the day and place no trust in tomorrow", and the ode says that the future is unknowable, and that instead one should scale back one's hopes to a brief future, and drink one's wine. Compare with the Biblical "eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die", with emphasis on making the most of current opportunities because life is short and time is fleeting – an existential caution.

I should tell you, I should tell you. I should tell you, I've got baggage.
-Rent

For most of my life, I've swung pendulum style between the past and the future, carefully avoiding too much 'living in the moment' crap. I can recount many a story about growing up using my flair for embellishment; I can speculate on the amazing possibilities that are still before me. And I think this is part of my weight problem. I forget what I ate earlier, don't plan for what to eat tomorrow, and put anything I want into my mouth in the moment.

I find it very difficult, almost impossible at times, to properly identify my feelings about the present. I'm not sure why I feel this way, or even when it all started, but recently I have come face-to-face with my supreme disassociation skills and I'm finding it very interesting.
Though I'm hesitant to admit it, I'm a whole lot like my dad. When we were little he told us great tales of his own childhood; from delivering my grandparent's WWII love letters into all the neighbors mailboxes during a particularly exciting game of 'Mailman', to busting his lip open on a cookie that was really a dried starfish because his friend Fathead dared him to eat it, to point blank asking his teacher (who was also a habited nun) 'Why do you have a mustache? I thought only boys could get those.'

My dad is a great storyteller. I didn't know half of his material was bullshit until I hit my twenties. These days he likes to talk about how he is going to move to Montana, run a ranch and write the great american novel as soon as he retires. He is also extremely sentimental and most nights he can be found indulging himself with whiskey and old photo albums in his Men Den, reminiscing about the 'good old days'. It can be charming...sometimes. But mostly, he sucks at being present in our lives. His life is mostly spent looking back or looking forward, with a whole lot of drinking to distract him from the here and now. I don't know why it's so easy to feel anger or pity while detailing his life when I am so clearly cut from the same cloth.

The good news is that I have been made aware of this tendency (see, counseling is totally worth it) and now I am able to resist my incliniation to 'simply survive' as opposed to 'carpe diem'. So this July, as I end my time as a nanny and move into a more grown-up job, I will live somewhere between the past and the future. No day but today!

P.S. Don't think this means that I won't wax poetic on my last day of work. But I will be seizing THAT moment, not regressing, I swear.