honesty

As optimistic and hopeful as my last post was, life isn't all sunshine and rainbows.

Life is also the gritty messy bits, too.

Life is the gritty messy bits.

Today has been an extraordinarily difficult day.

I can't pinpoint exactly how or when it crept in, but I have been absolutely flattened by homesickness for Nigeria this evening. I'm a mess right now. Lots of tears. It's not the missing phenomenon, either. "I miss..." would be an impossible fill-in-the-blank at this moment.

It's so hard to put words to this! I don't have the vocabulary for the emptiness I feel. I'm angry and I don't know why, and I don't think it's fair to be angry, and I don't know where to direct my anger: myself? I chose this. I chose to leave.

It's just this; as in, this is all there is:

I don't feel comfortable in my own skin right now, and I just want to go home.

goalsetting

Today's pennyworth wisdom: Know what you want out of life.

If for no other reason but that someday an important person on the other side of a mahogany desk may just ask you, Where do you see yourself in 5 years? or What's your ideal career path--where do you want to end up?

I've been thinking a lot about this very concept, and even though this might not be my go-to answer in an interview, this is really what I want my life to look like in the next few years:

1. I want to get a full-time job. Something with benefits. Doesn't have to rock my world. Does need to be steady income.
2. I want to get my own place. I'm content renting. A studio is fine. And I think I want to live alone.
3. After those two things happen, I think I'll get a Netflix subscription or maybe a puppy. I've always wanted a yellow lab. Okay, maybe not in a studio apartment, but I can dream.
4. I want to find my passion. I hope it will be a cross between writing and bettering mankind, but I don't want to set the bar too high.

Wait a minute, you know what? It's my passion. My dreams. I don't think the bar can be too high there. I mean, it's not like I'm hoping to become a pop star. It's writing to change lives. Still within the realm of possibility. Maybe we'll classify it under "high hopes."

If there was a number 5, it would be optional. But if this was a theoretical universe where 5 did exist, number 5 would be a man. As it is, 5 is optional. Because #1-4 are definitely possible without the theoretical number 5.

Check that: I just discussed my job search, my life goals, and my relationship status in the same post. I'm getting good at this.

you can laugh...

The fundamental rule to embarrassing moments is that as long as they happen to somebody else, they're hilarious.

As long as they happen to somebody else.

Not today, my friends.

This afternoon I switched phones. The Samsung Sway I purchased last summer ended up being a major disappointment. (Clearly, I hadn't anticipated moving to Nigeria when I upgraded.) I would not advise you to ever purchase this model - the battery lasts less than 24 hours, even when not in use and the screen rarely functions. And this is after being turned off for 10 months while I was overseas.

Right, so I switched phones, back to the one I used in college. It contains most of my contacts anyways, and while it's not cool-looking, at least I can read the screen when someone calls me.

The phone also contained all texts sent and received from last summer before I left for Africa. Instead of just deleting all the messages like a smart person, I re-read and deleted each one individually. Like a not-smart person.

And then somewhere in that process, I resent a couple of those messages. Accidentally. Messages from a year ago. Messages that don't mean anything anymore. Messages to the guy I dated last summer. Messages to the guy I'm no longer dating, but whom I was dating when I first sent those messages.

Oh. My. Gosh.

Also, oops.

Also, my bad/sorry.

Also, that's embarrassing.

See? This is why technology complicates our lives. This is why cell phones suck and I'm a terrible texter. Because apparently I'm also a re-texter.

who am i?

I don't know what happened. I don't know what snapped, or clicked, or popped, or [insert onomatopoeia here].

I have become a person I know not of.

I'm talking about that moment where you finally begin to process that you have, indeed, left childhood. That you are, unbelievably, an adult. No qualifiers, no "to an extent", no "occasionally" or "sometimes." You just know: this is what adults do, and I'm one of them.

It did not happen when my student loans came due. It did not happen when I realized I can pay off my car loan (hooray!). It did not happen when I bought a shirt whose tag reads "Dry Clean Only."

We're getting warmer, though.

Because it did happen in my room. Yes, my friends. The moment I realized I'd become an adult occurred right here in the space that is all mine (save for the family's ironing board in the corner).

I have somehow become a person who makes her bed. Who puts things in drawers...and not just any drawer - no, no...the right one. I'm a person with a file box that functions perfectly. I hang my clothes facing the same direction, I iron my skirts, and I keep all my African clothes together in a hanging shelf system.

I pick up my room each night before bed because I don't enjoy blindly navigating the mine field of throw pillows, high heels, purses, dirty clothes, and the occasional book first thing in the morning.

Who am I?

The fun answer is "my mother's daughter." Because the truth is that I become more like my mom every day I move around on this planet.

But the truer answer to that question is that I'm just growing up. I'm putting childish things behind me, and finding new ways to take control of my own life. It starts with dry-clean only dress shirts, and the next thing you know, it'll be a job.

Oh come on... you didn't actually think I could write a post with no mention of my job search, did you?

lessons learned

I'm learning some really important things about myself in this time of joblessness (also called funemployment). Which is why I'm choosing to not only endure, but to thrive on this season. There are lessons to be learned here. If I'm too busy craning my neck, waiting for my train to come in, I'm going to miss something crucial.

1. I am probably not suit-and-tie material. I could be coerced, convinced, or transformed to be that, but it's not my preference. And I'm not just talking fashion here. I'm talking about the whole philosophy behind corporate. As much as I may dream about being a yuppy, it's not in my nature.

2. The type of writing I desire is not hard-hitting sales writing. I am creative person, but I'm a people person, too. I don't want to write anything if it can't make a difference in someone else's life...and selling them a product doesn't quite equal "making a difference."

3. I want to work for something I can get behind--something bigger than me. I never want to apologize for what I do or who I work for. I never want to be embarrassed to be associated with a particular organization. Which is great on one hand, because it means that I'm going to be an invested employee. It's also not so great, because it means that my employer has to actually stand for something. Something other than profit.

4. Searching for a first job is not the time to cling to ideals. Regardless of lessons 1-3, I need to learn this one thoroughly. The job I take will likely not be the job I keep until I retire, and that's okay. I can do anything for a year (see: previous 10 months). I can be suit-and-tie, I can write with a sales bent, and I can work for a corporation who is only interested in stock market success. I can do that. And I will. Because the most important lesson I've learned in the last month is this:

5. I will do what I have to do today so that one day I can do what I want to do.