In the weeks of my absence online, quite a few life-changing possibilities have presented themselves, a few hopeful doors have slammed closed, and painfully antique windows that I thought had melted into the walls of my memory screeched loudly as they were torn open once more. Each has taken its toll, and I'm hoping that the decisions I am making and plan to put into action in the next months are the right ones for the direction I want my life to take.
In February, I spent a long weekend with friends in Shepherdstown. It was a weekend full of fantastic on-the-spot poetry readings, ridiculous arguments through technology (the drama won't go away so long as misunderstandings continuously occur), spectacular meals, tears at the river, and hilarious conversations with cute guys at The Meck. I discovered I love local, blackberry wine (blackberry jam in liquid form, my friends!) and that I didn't entirely miss the big school assignments and resulting panic attacks that college life offered. I'm still just as annoyed as ever when dealing with the university, but apparently that doesn't keep me from returning for a second degree. While visiting that weekend, I dropped an application off with admissions for the Spring of 2015. We'll see what comes of it, I suppose. Regardless, I'm hoping to move back within the year, find a place to live (and people to live with), and begin a job that I don't want to scream over every evening. I'm doing more than crossing fingers nowadays- I'm actively searching for jobs I WANT in the Shepherdstown area as well as apartments to visit on my next visit in town as well as roping in a roommate or two. This required me to give up on some people that I used to think would be a part of my post-graduate life-- whether because of their faults or mine, I've left them behind and am making it without relying on them for support.
It's a lot to consider, but this last month has convinced me that where I'm at is not where I want to be-- there's no such thing as "where I'm meant to be," what I'm "meant to do" or discovering the "purpose for my life." It's about being happy with the life I make. Sitting around waiting for it to happen, waiting for the stable relationship and the dream job, is getting me nowhere. Opportunities are not exactly slapping me in the face while I'm chilling in little Elkins, West Virginia. I can hardly stand listening to the old, gossiping souls day in and out at my current job- though most days my job is better than working fast food chains or working retail (you guys have my utmost respect, there's no way I could survive in those positions). I know I'm not meant for a desk job, unless it's my own writer's desk in my home with notes for my first novel strewn across it. Often during the day I find myself wishing I could return to my summer job as a trail guide- if only the stables weren't so far away over four mountains and it weren't negative two every morning when I wake up.......
Truly, my lovely Kit and precious Ginny have been keeping me company and listening to me rationalize these big decisions. Poor things, they've heard it all a thousand times, heard the frustrations, seen the tears of anxiety and provided the comic relief when I needed it most.
The Monday-late Friday evening routine, working at a desk, staring at computers and answering phones all day is not a career I fancy. There are better opportunities for me to make myself happy- it's only after I spent over a month going to work, coming home from work, reading, eating, showering and then sleeping-- having no life outside of one visit to Shepherdstown and finally this past weekend going to a movie with my best friend since elementary school-- that I finally realized those opportunities are not where I am. I need to get myself to where they are. I need to get out of the 9 to 5 routine, lay eyes on the life that will make me happy, and then make it happen. No one else can do it but me, and I'm sick of moping around waiting for people to help me out. How arrogant of me, waiting for the right situation to walk up to me and shake my hand, or waiting for the voice of God to cry out, "This is your Purpose!" I don't need Pocahontas's spinning arrow- I need to make my own path (and if my John Smith happens to be at the end of it, he may have to throw a brick at my face to catch my attention because I'll be too busy focusing on my happiness).
This new determination was summed up well by a question my good friend asked when I visited her last month: "When you hear We Know This Town, which town is it really for you now?" Which one brings out the best in me? Which one feels like a home where I can work and be happy?
I smiled at her that morning as we sped our way toward Shepherdstown.
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