Sometimes, just doing nothing feels like accomplishing a lot.

And boy, did I accomplish a lot this weekend. Among my feats of perseverance and single-minded dedication to self-betterment:

- A suntan.
- Chocolate chip banana bread.
- Learned that the word cynic is derived from the Greek word for ‘dog,’ kyōn.
- Decided to take the summer off to chill out in Mexico.

Fuck this whole career business, already.

I’ve discovered that a penchant for surfing severely limits your career options. New York (center of publishing universe)? Nope. Topeka, where there is a cool, karma enhancing associate editor job at Mother Earth News? Not to diss on Kansas, but: No. Western Massachusetts, where I could be a passionate, conscientious, informed, and sensitive editor (where I could work for a magazine that cares that their editor is passionate, conscientious, informed, and sensitive!) for a magazine where I would surely get to rub elbows with fabulous writer-types (my kind, clearly)—? Nah.

What’s with these people? I mean, Topeka? Can’t any self-respecting, politically conscious, creative, prestigious magazine with a great work environment and sensitivity to employees’ work-life balance that is looking for an associate editor set up shop in, oh, say…Huntington Beach? Is that too much to ask?

I mean, seriously. Getting all the factors that matter to you in line—family, significant others that call you poopie, inexplicable yearning for sport you barely like (surfing), challenging and rewarding job—are like the Rubix cube of existence. As soon as you get one in place, it fucks up all the other ones. Want to be near family? Sure! Move to Albuquerque. But then you’ll have to work at Target! And forget that whole ‘water’ thing. Want to surf? Fine! But then you will have to forgo any serious journalistic aspirations (at least ones they might pay you for) while you soak in the sun on the patio of your overpriced teeny-weenie apartment in Irvine. But maybe you’ll have time to fly out to Albuquerque! Want a challenging and rewarding job? Then move to D.C. or New York or…Topeka! But you can forget the whole family, boyfriend, surfing (or any other form of exercise) thing.

My god, by the time I get to be a fabulous, well-known figure in political, literary and generally important circles, I’m going to have more wrinkles than a Shar-Pei! And they’ll compare me to a hippopotamus too!

Enough of this tradeoffs BS. I want the whole thing—all of it, where I want it, when I want it, to the extent I want it, and with a salary that will let me buy bikini waxes again. Give it to me!—I want the all-you-can-eat option! Family! Great location that is also impossibly convenient for my boyfriend or any future significant other! Envy-inspiring job! Home on previously undiscovered surf break! Dish! It! Up!

I’m thinking of making that the objective on my resume.