Too Many Things that could go wrong.

It turns out that I have been driving illegally since Thursday night because I had no idea where my driver's license was located. I spent the day scavenging my laundry, my room, and my car, for that goddamned piece of plastic.

Yes, I could've woken up tomorrow to get in line for the DMV and replaced it-- because that's always so fun-- but I'm 90% sure I would've ran into some, ahem, issues. I'm not going to go into detail of those issues right now, but I would like to say that my Guardian Angel just pulled an epic Tim Howard-esque save.

Christelle note: I would also like to say that my Guardian Angel is, hopefully, just as sexy as Tim Howard and just as racially ambiguous-- not that you should hook up with your Guardian Angel because that would end awkwardly disastrous if you ever broke up.

But, yes, I found my license. Between the pages of my book. It seems as though a book has saved my life (again).

Now, why was this such a big deal? Why was I on the verge of breaking down so much so that I had to lock myself in my room and pop in my Prisoner of Azkaban DVD to distract me from my desperation and melancholy?

Me too, angsty!Harry with perfect hair like the books... Me too. Sigh.

I am 24-years-old. I am in what seems like a stagnant stage of supposed-to-be-transition that doesn't feel very transition-y! I have a Bachelor's degree from a top university, and yet, I CAN'T GET A JOB! I am using exclamation marks to make my point that I am frustrated even though I feel like written exclamations like these are cheesy and childish! No state-issued ID means no live scans, no doctor's appointments, no way to get out of a crappy small town and start an independent life.

I am about to pull a thirteen-year-old Potter and run away and become a bum. Or an au pair. I'd be a good au pair. I could live in New York City and take care of wealthy, white children all day. I've watched the Nanny Diaries: Scarlett Johannsen ends up with Chris Evans.

Almost losing that license felt like another roadblock from getting me to where I need to go. It already feels like there are so many tolls I need to pay, and no one even told me that I was on a private toll road.... I would've stayed on the freaking freeway if I knew! It's scary how one thing that goes wrong could instantly detour my plans once again. It's terrifying.

At this point, I'm pretty sure my boggart would be me sitting in this bedroom I'm sitting in now, but five years older with a pile of job rejections. And grad school rejections. I have no idea how to make that scene amusing enough for me to shout the proper spell.

I do realise, how riddikulus I am being: I'm lucky that my parents love me enough to help me kickstart my teaching career ( because you have to pay a crapton of fees to become a teacher, who figured?) and provide me with food and a roof over my head for as long as it takes me to get going. I know I'm creating my own boggart; I'm terrified that I'll be stuck and waste so much time and money without actually doing something. Anything. I just need to do a thing however thingy that thing may be.

So here's to moving forward and conquering boggarts. Riddikulus!

-Christelle xxxxx