killing those old habits dead.

Last night I was cleaning and I found an old journal. I had just graduated college. Spending my days at my parent's home, sneaking menthol cigarettes and miserable, apparently, according to the excess usage of the f-word in my short! dramatic! entries.

(just to be clear, I generally like to reserve the four-letter words for worthy outrages, such as our current political administration or when the applebee's waiter forgets my side of honey mustard.)

What struck me after embarrassingly scanning over my old thoughts with one eye closed and shuddering was that I was worrying about the same things that I worry about today. And yesterday. And last week. And tomorrow. Two completely non-important things that keep me awake at night---make me sick to my stomach---give me furrowed brow lines--and make me a tad bitchy. (((( Money and People Liking Me.))))

As much as it concerns me that I'm dedicating years---years--of my life becoming a professional worrywart about my visa bill and if the girl two cubicles down is pissed because I left colored paper in the printer--it concerns me even more that my worries aren't fluctuating with my life.

Now, if worrying is actually one of the few tangible skills I've been actually putting effort into the past few years, it most definitely upsets me to think that I've limited myself to two measly worthless causes. Jesus, what have I missed about worrying about?!?!?!

Things I definitely know that I have not worried about the past five years of my life:

* any illegitimate children being born out of wedlock
* how to tactfully display my homecoming queen tiara
* recycling
* my abs
* what that dream about my junior high arch nemesis actually meant
* how to casually wear my homecoming queen tiara in public
* what I will do if they just suddenly discontinue bagels
* why my eyesight keeps getting worse
* the inappropriate love I have for coffee
* if my mugshot picture will surface if I run for public office
* that I can eat my body weight in bread
* if conservatives have their way and push women back a hundred years and I can no longer wear pants or drink in public
* fashion fads
* the plethora of germs making a happy home under my bathroom sink
* why brad & jen couldn't make it work
* taking the GRE before they change the format to: impossible

It's like this whole other world is opening for me right now. So much worrying--So little time!

No--for serious---I would like to calm down the worrying. Better yet--I'd like to be a productive worrier. I'll have stress--fine! good! (it comes with change, I've learned)---but maybe I could worry, then do something, and then not worry. You know, instead of frantically holding on to it like it's a child sized lifejacket in the middle of the atlantic.

a nice reminder to myself: drink more tea, return loved one's phone calls, read something other than the back of the pop tarts box or US weekly, take the dogs for long walks, make the bed in the morning, be kind to yourself, be honest with yourself and write more dramatic, curse-filled journal entries.

And once in a while, go to this place: