Brooklyn No. 4

 It's January. But it doesn't really feel like it.  

It's been warm for the season, with frequent rains broken up by days of sun and blue skies. 

It hasn't been bad, by any means. Who really likes blustery winds, snowstorms and negative temperatures? (I do.)

But it hasn't been as it should be. That irks me. 

My birthday is in January. It's a day that is characterized by snow too deep to go out in, or days too cold to leave the house. One year, the temperatures on my birthday were colder in my town than in Antarctica. 

And that's not an exaggeration. 

However, none of that has ever really bothered me because it's January.

All of that is as it should be. I've been thinking about how things should be a lot.

 Should I be further along in my career? 

Should I have gotten a better job by now? Should I be more mature? Have more money? 

So many of these things feel unknowable, immeasurable, weird. 

And I hate it. Like rain in January. 

Searching for normalcy post-grad has felt like stumbling about in the dark. Everything is slightly out of place. I'm stubbing my toes on cabinets I don't remember being there. As my friends enter and leave different stages of their lives, I find myself subconsciously measuring my own life against theirs. 

So and so's getting married. Should I? She and what's-his-name just broke up. Should I? 

They're still working at a coffee shop, so I feel a little better...She just started her new position so I feel worse. 

Comparison is the thief of joy. Hurry is the enemy of peace. 

I forget this often--every day if I'm being honest. I am still floundering in this new season of life, although it feels like I should have adjusted by now. 

There's not much else to do, but keep going, searching, trying. 

January will give way to February, and February to March, when the rains should come. Things should work themselves out soon.