So, here is part 2 of my awakening. Here is part 1 if you missed it.
During my bridal shower/bachelorette party, there was a portion where my future betrothed answered questions about me. The bridesmaids read them aloud and compared my answers and their answers with what he had written. One of the questions was, “What do I hate the most?” The answer: “When people say they’re going to do something and don’t.” Now I’ve become what I hate most.
Before I moved here, I applied for all kinds of jobs related to journalism. In a military community overseas, it’s hard as hell to find a job in your field. Even if you are qualified. So I took a job as a test examiner, giving soldiers tests, grading tests, giving ACTs, GEDs, that type of thing. Then 3 months into it, I got a call for a job interview. Overseas, getting a “GS” job is like finally finding the match to a pair of favorite shoes you haven’t worn in a while. And although the position was listed as temporary, I was told off the bat that I would probably get it extended, unless I just totally didn’t work out. The only problem is that it wasn’t in my field. But it paid good and it was in my city so I accepted it. The week before I was supposed to in-process into the job, I got an e-mail about my perfect job (well, here anyway. Not in the real world of course). Public Affairs specialist. Pays the same amount as my job and I’d be editing the community paper, as well as performing various other PA tasks (i.e. writing speeches and stuff for the base commander). And around the same time, a reporter from the other newspaper (military affiliated, but not military run) told me he was leaving and that I should apply for his job. But there were a few glitches.
1. I’d already verbally agreed to the other job.
2. There was no guarantee I’d get this new job, so if I backed out of the other one, I might end up ass out. I was pretty confident I could get the government job, though. As for the newspaper, I didn’t meet the requirements on paper, but my mantra is if I can get to the interview, I got ‘em. But I digress.
3. The other jobs were in other cities between 30-45 minutes away. Now, that’s not really a long commute, but it would mean that I wouldn’t see Woodstock before leaving for work and then would get home around 6. We go to sleep at 10. And we couldn’t eat lunch together. I’m not usually one of those chicks that has to be under my man all the time, but I had to put into account that we’d have less than a year to spend together (not including field exercises) before he deployed for a year.
4. The other government job was temporary with no possible extension.
So I took the job I have now. And I feel like a sell out. I’m not passionate about many things, so when I gave up my true passion – writing, it felt kind of like a lost a little bit of my soul. Which is where what I hate most comes in. I’m a big believer in the “Don’t talk about it, be about it mantra.” And I’m not being about it. Tha Riddler has been on me for like 5 years to start writing a book. So why don’t I? My excuse was that I didn’t have a laptop (cause you know all writers gotta have a cute little Mac Powerbook. They do on TV, and what makes them better than me?).
But I’m tired of reading all these blogs about people doing what they love, sisters doing big thangs, while I’m letting the world pass me by. I’m tired of sitting depressed, letting stupid excuses hold me back from my dreams. So no more excuses. I have to get off my mental ass and do what makes me happy. So hold me to it. Make me write. An essay, an article, a short story, SOMETHING. I mean I’m about to have a whole year just me and Taz. I have to show some type of productivity.
And don’t worry, you chicks will be in the acknowledgements. The ones of you who comment anyway (hint, hint).