Great Expectations

If not apparent from my last posting, I'm what some people might call a cynic.  And unfortunately, most cynics are also romantics, romantics who have been disappointed.   That's certainly true of me.  And since I'm also sort of self-involved and introspective (if you couldn't tell by the sheer fact that I have a blog devoted entirely to myself), I spent the better part of today thinking about who I am and what I really want.   And I realized I have some pretty great expectations.   Maybe that's why lately I've been feeling like things are a little less stellar than I expected.

Remember that feeling you got when you were little after your birthday party?   I used to start getting excited about my party by July (my birthday's in September) and I envisioned circuses, clowns, a four-tiered birthday cake, and Elton John serenading me with "Tiny Dancer" at my party (ok I didn't know who Elton John was then, but in hindsight that's what I should have wanted).  In reality I usually got pissy because I won "pin the tail on the donkey" but couldn't get a favor since it was my party and I needed to be a gracious host.  After opening duplicate presents and spilling juice on my new pink dress, I usually ended up sobbing into my dad's lap because it wasn't nearly as much fun as it was supposed to be.

I'll cry if I want to!

This theme has carried on.   I dreamed about my first high school dance--I had my eye on the hot boy from Young Life and I tried to nab him with, what I can only in hindsight decipher was meant to be flirting, and get him to escort me in my spangled gown.   What happened instead?   I wore a pretty bitchin' spangled gown but alas, instead of some hot christian man candy, I was reluctantly escorted by my platonic elementary school guy friend.  Who I'm sure was bribed by my mother, his mother, or a combination of the two.  

So here I am, about to graduate college with honors, young and bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and the world should be my oyster.   Instead I'd prefer if the world were my all-you-can-eat raw bar, preferably paired with a large bloody mary.

I see no downside...

So with graduation less than a month away, today, I asked myself,  "Annie, are you happy?"  And the answer wasn't what I wanted it to be (for those of you not big on subtlety, that means the answer was "no").   True, I could just be scared about graduating--the prospect of having spent a small fortune on college and ending up homeless and jobless, qualified only to fold sweaters at the Gap--and while that certainly doesn't make me want to dance the horah, I don't think that's really the problem here.   And as great as they are, for once I don't think the problem is my expectations.  I really empathize with Third Eye Blind, I do want something else, to get me through this, although unlike in the song, the something I want isn't crystal meth.  Although, that might be easier, because I'm pretty sure there's a meth lab juuuuuust down the street... and I can't put my finger on what the something else is that I want.