Work.

Today, I realize that I love my job.

I suppose I should say "rediscovered" because I've realized this before.  Yet, I spent a good deal of my afternoon bemoaning my situation and my uncertainty.  I'm anxious about the moments of my days that are spent alone, not because I do not enjoy being alone, but because I no longer feel that my days are productive.  To be honest though, I did not feel that they were productive even when I was working.  But when I was working, I had the illusion of productivity.  I have human contact before noon.  I am uncertain that this is a good path for me.

I suppose that's what it is to be ultimately, undecided; it is to be uncertain.

Most recently, I have viewed uncertainty as a curse, a reason for anxiety. I try not to think about it, but there are a great many things which I fear now, that I did not only one year ago. I am afraid of stop lights, because there was this one time I was at a stop light, when it suddenly occurred to me that maybe it would never turn green.  and I did not believe it would ever turn green.  I'm afraid of bridges, because I once wrote about a girl who wanted to fly away from her life, and I'm afraid that someday I might too.  I'm afraid of leaving my house some days, especially by myself. I am afraid.

But it will not conquer me forever.

I love my job. I know it well and, most days, I'm good at it. The restaurant starts as a pristine machine and then unravels into chaos. And everyday I get through chaos. I conquer chaos; sometimes, for a moment, chaos conquers me.  But every shift, I conquer my fears, I stay steadfast through the storms of uncertainty and confusion.  It's just a simple process, one gives me hope to face my days. Things will get better.  If the only sure thing in life is change, then this too shall pass.

Date night

I went on a date tonight, and I was surprised by who I found.  Not everyone is what they seem.

I haven't made up my mind about him.  Yet, some of the things that I deemed as "red flags", these things that scared me about him, are put off for a short while.

Even so, it's not what I want in the long run.  I want more. I want what's next.

Gems

I read an article interviewing Jewel. She's never been a celebrity that I pay attention to, but I read this article because, honestly, I was at the gym and I was really bored on the bike.  Anyways, she talked about anxiety and living in a car when she was young.  She said that she ended up envisioning her anxiety as a light switch, and anytime she felt anxious she flipped the switch and allowed her anxiety to be excitement.  I've been noticing lately that at times, I confuse the two.  So instead of being anxious about the alternatives, be excited about the opportunities


Things that make me happy:
Theo. Lyrics by Fun.  Piano Man Song.  Van Morrison's Days Like This.  Opportunities.  Working out.  Meditation.  Talking to friends on the phone.  Calling Mom.  Sleep.  Meditation. Building things.  Creating things. New ideas. Knitting.  Helping people.  Making people laugh. Pen pals.  Sherlock. Sunshine.  Bike rides.  Meeting new people.  Puns.  Twinkle lights.  Sunrise.  Home. Hard Work.  Trife-Life.  Wine and cheese nights.  Movies.  Netflix binges.  Nails. Hot showers. Back rubs.  Being held before I sleep.  Closeness. When the music swells.  The warmth beneath the blankets.  Body heat. Scruffy face hugs.

You've Got Mail

I cannot tell you how many times I've seen the movie "You've Got Mail".

I can probably quote every single line.  

First of all, may I just say this movie has the best soundtrack ever. 

There are so many things that Kathleen Kelly says that resonate on a deeper level.  And Tom Hanks plays the most lovable millionaire as Joe Fox. 

If I went walking through a park, and heard a man shouting after a dog (preferably a golden retriever) named Brinkley, I would turn, and I would walk up to that man and kiss him on the spot.

I think what I like so much about this movie, is that both Kathleen and Joe, are real people.  They're whole. 

I went to coffee today with a former classmate, and we discussed the concept of being whole.  To be completely correct, I took over the conversation and vented about many of my relationship reflections.  I have many because I haven't been in a real relationship, well, ever.  So I've been able to spend years observing without dipping even a toe into those rough waters.

As a senior in college, I had a conversation with a recent grad where we discussed what was missing in life.  I was idealistic at the time.  I had quit the one thing that I had used to identify myself as a human being, and I was feeling its absence.

Think of yourself as a toddler playing with blocks.  Do you remember the first time you realized that the square block did not fit into the circle shaped hole.  Nor did the triangle.  The trapezoid.  It's so basic, yet such a pivotal learning experience.

I told her, suddenly my chest felt like it was home to a gaping hole.  And no matter what I tried; boys, alcohol, school work, extracurricular activities, the hole remained. 

I said that I didn't know what to do to fill the hole.  And she said, "Maybe it's not about filling the hole.  Maybe it's about learning to live with the hole."

It it's about knowing that you are, and forever will be slightly unfinished, but that that is okay, maybe we're all okay in the end.

And yet, I see friends going after relationships and careers that are ultimately unfulfilling, in attempts to fill that hole.  Sometimes, the fact that I am try to accept the hole, to allow it to be empty, scares me.  It makes me feel insecure.  

Tonight, for the first time in quite some time, I feel like I might be on the right path.

Through my rambling, my former classmate was able to interject something that I think it is incredibly important to remember.  Fear is okay.

"If your dreams do not scare you, maybe they're not big enough."

Wise words from Ellen Johnson Sirleaf.  Today, on this night, they bring me comfort.

I am scared. For once I feel like that might be okay, like I might be on the right track. I feel secure in not seeking validation from the opposite sex, from not seeking jobs that I do not want.  Instead I feel validated in being there for my friends in their time of need.

Grant me the wisdom to feel this night after night. 

How to stick to your guns when you are unsure where they should point...

Months ago, I shared my career position which was, and remains (for the most part) ultimately, undecided.

Yet, last night I met with some friends, old and new, who made me think about my oh-so buzzworthy generation, and our call to activism. 

Once upon a time, I wanted to be a journalist for just that reason: the sense of my heart.  In the words of Mr. Russell Wilson Sr. "Why not me?"  Like many activists, I love nothing more than to voice my egregious concern for the world; what it is, and what it is becoming.  Why shouldn't I join the ranks of journalists around the world, bringing justice to the world by revealing unseen truths. 

In my vision of reporting, I was an activist for every cause.  I would not have to be caught up in one cause, I would never have to choose a war to fight, I would simply be the valiant civil servant, offering a platform for every activist with the might to sound a war cry. 

But my endeavors into journalism proved fruitless.  My summer internship for a local magazine left me jaded.  From my experience, journalism by modern standards is not about bringing voice to the voiceless, but finding the voices that benefit the news organization and the almighty dollar.  It's about throwing together articles as instructed, despite the stories that are left behind.

When was it decided that truth can be bought and sold.  Who decided that it could be manipulated; it's parts amputated and sewn back together until it is unrecognizable?  

While studying journalism at university, my peers and I were taught the importance of unbiased journalism. I learned that truth is in the eye of the beholder, and it is our job as communicators, to fight for no one.  Not only are we to retell the truths that we see and hear, but we are obligated to seek out the deeper truths in order to share both sides of the story. 

It is so infrequent that stories are so easily conferred; so rare that there is a clear hero and an unrepentant villain.  Yet, these are the pictures our media paints daily. Depending on which news station you tune into, these roles are reversed and contorted, until there is very little sense of truth in the whole debacle.  

Tonight, I'm left wondering.  Is it I, who has become lost along the way?  Am I letting my ideals, get the better of my future?  

Is it better to defend you convictions, and stay pure but removed?  Or to dive in, perhaps becoming tainted yourself, while putting yourself in a position to make a change for the better?

If you wish upon a star...

I just want a ridiculously awesome career that pays ludicrous amounts of money.

Year One

One year ago I wrote:

Freshly popped out of the loins of (Insert Liberal Arts College here) English:Creative Writing.
  Current couch-surfer extraordinaire.  

Job applicant by day, writer by night.  

Ultimately, undecided.

These words came from a deep well of sarcasm, resentment, and fear.  But they were important.  Although I may have succumbed to the darkness that comes with repeated rejection, and had finally confronted the four year suspicion that my dream career may have roots stemming more from idealism than reality, these words represented the remnants of hope.  Hope which was now only a sprinkled dandruff, waiting to decide whether to cling to the edges of my mind, or simply drift away.

So, I drifted.  I explored.  I was elated when I discovered a new possibility.  

"I'm going to be a Journalist!... Kayak Guide!... Teacher!... Paralegal!... Zookeeper!... Nurse!... Geologist!"

I courted each of these options for a time.  I only flirted with some; these career fantasies lasting from a few hours to a few weeks. Others provided me with months of reprieve from career neurosis.  For a select few, I suppose there are still graduate programs awaiting my application. 

Each possibility was like a new drug, providing a high to bring me back from the blow of realizing, once again, this was not the path for me. 

Ironically, it took a real high to bring me back to reality. Why dally in a whirlwind of career romances when the lovely Lady Lorazepam is available in pharmacy's across the nation?

At this point I must clarify, this is not a blog about my drug addiction.  Like most twisted-minded creative writing student produced from a liberal arts institute, a part of me yearns for something as enchanting to write about as a drug addiction.  No such luck.

Alas, it only took me one dance with Lady Lorazepam to realize that my approach to adulthood needed to be revamped.

As much as I would love to do a blow-by-blow analysis of this drug induced epiphany, I recently watched a TED Talk from Adam Leipzig where, in essence, he summed up exactly what I was having such a hard time coming to terms with.

He says:

We call all agree "the unexamined life is not worth living." But if all you're doing is examining,  you're not living. 

Essentially, Socrates (via liberal arts philosophy requirements)  managed to mind-fuck me into uncertainty.

Well played, Sir.

The question is: what in the hell am I going to do for the next 30+ years to survive and thrive?

I always thought the answer was choosing the correct career path.  

 "Correct Career"= -Time + -Misery + $$$$$$$ 

But why am I, at the age of 23, examining how much my time and unhappiness is worth?  

Yes, partly because I'm cynical.  But also, because I haven't found something I want to do. 

I'm going to have many loves in my life, and I want my career to be one of them.  One can survive and thrive with very little money.  In fact, it's what I enjoy most.  So while the economic aspects of my destiny may be unclear right now, there are plenty of other elements I can prioritize.  

True, I am no longer freshly birthed and covered in liberal arts placenta, nor am I surfing on couches, or riding the tide of job applications and rejections, but I am writing again.

I am a waitress, a cat owner, a car owner, an occasional shmuck, a friend, daughter, sister, and roommate.  

But, I remain ultimately, undecided.  

And I suspect that is exactly what I am supposed to be.