Virgin Lips

27. Liar, liar pants on fire

JOANNA

Tic. Tac. Tic. Tac. Tic. Tac.

Even the clock doing its job unnerved me. I was sitting in my living room/kitchen/the only other room of the apartment besides bedroom and bathroom, staring at my laptop screen, a Word page open. A blank Word page, more specifically.

You see, I decided that, in order to go forward, I need to have a plan, and to have a plan, you need to make one. But to make a plan, you need to know what do you want, where do you want to end up. And here comes the big question: do I know what I want?

I mean, years ago, when I was a naïve schoolgirl, I thought the path was clear:

1.Get into a good college.

2.Get Bachelor's and Master's fast.

3.Apply for a PhD.

4.Start working.

Pretty straightforward, huh? If only it'd been so easy. Oddly enough, getting into a good college was the easy part. The problem was affording one. I got a scholarship only for one, so it was kind of a forced choice, but a good one. Especially if you consider I met Jeremy there, not to mention two of my best friends. The Master's was harder, because no scholarship ... my parents did somersaults at first, but then I just went for the most obvious choice: student loan, which I'm still repaying and it's where most of the money gained from the gig with Ben went.

I did graduate somewhat fast, that is true, but because I was in neck deep with student loans and everything, I never applied for a PhD. That's where my nightmare at the diner started. Working 12 hours a day in a hellhole isn't exactly a great source of inspiration and hopes for a better future. I guess I let myself go, and in the end forgot what was my goal when I started.

I wanted to be a journalist, back then. But if I look at myself now, there's no way I can be a journalist. I don't think I even want to be a journalist anymore. I do still like writing, but how doable it would be to get a job a publishing house, I don't know. I've been rejected quite a few times already in the past.

Not to mention that I kind of lost touch with that Joanna, the Joanna that was always writing, that edited typos in any written thing she read, that catalogued her home library in different ways, the Joanna whose favorite place in school was always the library.

But even reading became difficult, mostly because on a minimum waitress salary and different expenses to face, books are indeed a luxury. A luxury I tried to carve out a budget for regardless, sure, but when I got Reese and Shaw I had to stop: between vet bills and their food, it was take care of my cats or buy books. I did still have quite the list of unread books in my library anyway.

Now, as I was saying, trying to come up with a plan for the future was proving more difficult than I thought. I mean, how do you answer such a question? What do you want in life? It's not like choosing your flavor of ice cream. It comes with other different questions, like, can you make it? Are you actually able to do that job? How many are the chances you'll be hired?

Okay, maybe I didn't try that hard, back in the day, but it's also true that it's a difficult world. Publishing isn't much open when it comes to hiring, you know. I remember the last one I applied for. They were looking for an editor for fantasy novels, but I was rejected so quick, I barely had time to figure out what happened. Funny enough, I saw that same publishing house looking for the exact same figure a few months ago. I almost applied, there's a different chief now, but at the time I was way too lost in my hopeless pity party. Talk about missed opportunities, I guess.

Sighing, I stood up to go refill my cup of tea. Reese and Shaw were cozily sleeping on the couch beside me, hugged to each other. Jeremy was finally able to switch to day shift, so he'll come over after for dinner, which I guess means I should maybe, possibly, start thinking about cooking for him. But you know, I don't think he should find out my worst flaws just yet, he can discover them gradually.