I’m Not Doing Nothing, But I’m Kind of Doing Nothing

11 07 2013

To say that I’m nervous is putting it mildly. Whenever a friend brings it up or my mother calls me on the phone I want to turn into an ostrich and bury my head in the sand. It’s been three months since I quit my retail job in an attempt to go back into what I’m actually good at. I took a risk and that risk has left me jobless and 20 days away from being out on the street or even worse captive in my parent’s basement in the middle of nowhere Kansas. I have been going through fluctuating waves of hope and dejection.

To say I haven’t given deep thoughts to pulling a Sylvia Plath or a David Foster Wallace would be a lie– if only I had written something nearly as profound as either of them. Sure, it’s a dramatic topic but let’s be real for a second. I am two-weeks away from returning to the homeland a failure. What I never wanted to be was a disappointed and I have to accept the fact that that is exactly what I’ve become–at least to myself.

Head in sand ostrich

I pushed myself to excel every year of my life, Straight As, President of Clubs, Lead Roles, Masters Degrees, Records, Novels, and yet none of that was good enough. Because being good doesn’t necessarily get you anywhere.

Being positive or negative just makes you look at the situation differently but it doesn’t change the situation–the situation is neutral.

I have applied to over 100 jobs. I went so far as to walk co/blvd and colfax all the way down to wnykoop and apply to as many server jobs as I could along the way. I told myself while I was in grad school that I’d never work a server job again. That getting those degrees was my way out of that world.

Despair comes close to being the right word.

And everyone around says, “don’t give up!”

What sirs and ma’ams am I actually supposed to do at this point?

How can giving up not be the solution?

It’s just a really big problem. If I quit concerning myself with it, maybe it will solve itself.

In the end something will happen whether I have a plan or not.  Is there really a point in making a plan when at this point there is nothing to plan?

Desire comes close to being the right word.

Luckily I have assurance that the outcome will end up being exactly what it needs to be. I have confidence that it’s going to work out in some overall big master-plan-that-I-am-unaware-of type of way.

There is plenty to be thankful for in this situation, mainly my parents offering still after all these years of assisting to keep assisting. I wonder if they ever wish they had insisted I go into something that people actually get paid for–like computer programming or I don’t know, business–instead of telling me that I should become whatever I wanted. And then my friends who put up with me and more often than they should, buy me beer. Of course I have my health, besides the bug bites on my ass, my reproductive system doing whatever it feels like and my left pinky-toe trying to separate from my foot I’m as healthy as a clam. I have food to eat. I have time to read books and write stories because there are so few jobs to apply to, I can watch whatever I want to on netflix. I’m not homeless going through the alley dumpster like the guy I can see from my window! I heard the Jay-Z record and it didn’t suck! I don’t skateboard so no dog can ever bite at my ankle while I zoom by (I saw this happen). Life can be pretty awesome.

I’m trying to be all mindful and shit. Again, the situation is neutral. How I respond, how I react, well that’s all up to me. I ride the waves.



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