the boomeranger

i interrupt the babysitting tales to ask myself, "what am i doing with my life?" here i am at starbucks, sitting in between a lady peacefully reading a book on my right and a lady who is going over her house plans with either the builder or architect. man, she is talking about light fixtures. and kitchen sinks. she is building her own home. that is my ultimate dream in life. i saw my parents go through the painful but incredibly rewarding process, and i want that for myself someday...when i have a family to fill the house. far, far away from that picture is me, in manhattan beach, about to be left by three of my closest friends (well, we used to be the closest four-some out there, but things have changed). what the hell am i doing? i am a waitress. i am now a babysitter. i train, but i haven't competed in weeks and that feels like months. it feels horrible. i came here to play. to compete. not to have friendships grow weaker with every sunrise and self-doubt invade my daily thoughts. people come and they say, "oh, you're young! this is the time in your life to be doing this." do what? what is it that i am doing?