So close . . .
So, nothing terribly interesting. I’m considering not posting here anymore, just because I feel like I’ve created this theme for the page that used to be snarky, and my version of humorous, but is now just whiney. I complain a lot here because this is a recounting of my life, and things have changed in the last 3 years. I’ve moved from a town filled with my friends, full-time work, and some semblance of a social life, to a much larger city with no friends and no real work. It’s depressing, but it’s where a series of decisions has landed me.
What’s strange to me is I’m here simply because Chad is. 100%. He has never insisted that I stay. We’ve learned that nothing changes in our relationship when we live in separate states, and we’re fortunate to have that. However, the last time we tried, there wasn’t any work in Vermont, and as I said back then, it seemed senseless to live apart just to live apart. If I were working, things might have been different. I might still be there now.
I guess I’m trying to find a place. Somewhere with friends, steady work that I enjoy, and Chad. I suppose I could concentrate on figuring out just what it is that I want to be when I grow up, but I’m 29, and nothing’s struck me yet. My definition of “knowing what you want to be when you grow up” is the idea that a person has a kind of a passion for learning and studying something that will eventually offer even just a little financial stability. It’s the word “passion” that makes me nervous. I’ve had interest in certain fields. I would certainly consider taking the time to study, or even just attempt something that might provide some sort of income, if it wasn’t for the fact that I have never felt passionate about, well, anything.
What’s strangest to me is I’m not alone. Far from it. Aside from just a small handful of friends, I don’t think I personally know anyone that is in a line of work that they had an initial passion for. I have friends and family that have been in the same line of work for a long time, but I don’t reckon I’d be wrong to assume that they weren’t exactly passionate about it. Is it a generational thing? A personality type? I’m driven, for sure. When I do find work, I’m good at it, whatever it is. I’m adaptable, and at some point between my 19th and 22nd year, the laziness wore off, and I began to actually enjoy hard work. Unfortunately, there just isn’t a single type of something that I feel like I need to focus all that great work ethic on. As a result, I live in a city where I might know maybe a dozen people. I spend any day that I’m not working running errands, or knitting in front of the television. On really ambitious days, maybe I’ll head into the city and see a friend, or explore an area I haven’t been to before. Maybe.
And maybe that’s the problem. I have to find out what’s out there in order to know what’s out there, right? The probability of discovering just what it is I’m supposed to be doing with my life while I’m crocheting the Yo-Yo afghan while replaying the latest episode of Mad Men on demand is likely pretty small. Maybe my passion should be finding my passion.
Though, I feel like when it comes to knowing exactly what you want to do with your life, there’s probably not a lot of room for “maybe”.
