(no subject)
I'm really stuck between two worlds. One in which I'm certain the job I'm in will provide me with years of better jobs if I can only stick it out for another year, and one where maybe I should be looking into schools or looking into something different. I hate my indecisiveness, my ability to get so involved in something that I research it to death: apartment, masters programs, hang out spots, even the table cloth I'll put on my craig's list find in said apartment. i'm done with that. i think i have to realize that in some instances there is no transition, there is no something else. i have to learn to be satisfied with what I have in the present instead of constantly looking, digging into the future. i suppose this is better than my previous penchant for looking back, probing into the glory days of my past to find answers. but it doesn't keep me happy in the moment. i feel like i'm never you know, just in a place.
physically i'll be somewhere. physically i'm in virginia, a masters student at George Mason, in a two bedroom apartment with a roommate I know little about, and I work 40 hours a week at a job my one year old lab/hound mix dog could probably do for me. mentally i'm in about fifty places. i'm in boston next year with friends and an enrollment in an MLS program with an apartment in Lowell. i'm engaged with plans for a wedding and a honeymoon on route 66. i'm bumming around rhode island with a history job because i'm done with DC, i'm done with Virginia, and I'm done with the south.
but what if i don't like history anymore - i seem to wearing thin on the same old stuff. how is this relevant to anything i'm beginning to ask when I used to have a very obvious and resounding answer. how can it be that i don't know, after all these years, what I want to do? somehow, i'm beginning to think that maybe i should have come up with something marketable and obvious where I'd be making more than I am and could afford a one bedroom apartment of my own. I don't even know that I can afford a one bedroom apartment of my own and there's something particularly pathetic about that. and its because I live here in Washington DC hell, land of the rising real estate market and city free of its own culture. how can a city not have a feel? that's what cities do, they give the visitor an idea, a sense of what they are, but DC doesn't and its because no one is here long enough to leave a mark.
i'm convinced of nothing. i've been so confused as to what my future will be, where I will be, where matt will be that I've just begun filling in blanks with my own imagined ideas. i will have this and this living situation in this state with these plans. and none of it fits. because how can it? how will i ever get a job, who will ever hire me again. masters in history, job in prominent historical field and center or not. it won't matter at all, that much has become clear. and yet i'm compelled to stay, because what else is there? because where will I go and how will I admit I was wrong?
physically i'll be somewhere. physically i'm in virginia, a masters student at George Mason, in a two bedroom apartment with a roommate I know little about, and I work 40 hours a week at a job my one year old lab/hound mix dog could probably do for me. mentally i'm in about fifty places. i'm in boston next year with friends and an enrollment in an MLS program with an apartment in Lowell. i'm engaged with plans for a wedding and a honeymoon on route 66. i'm bumming around rhode island with a history job because i'm done with DC, i'm done with Virginia, and I'm done with the south.
but what if i don't like history anymore - i seem to wearing thin on the same old stuff. how is this relevant to anything i'm beginning to ask when I used to have a very obvious and resounding answer. how can it be that i don't know, after all these years, what I want to do? somehow, i'm beginning to think that maybe i should have come up with something marketable and obvious where I'd be making more than I am and could afford a one bedroom apartment of my own. I don't even know that I can afford a one bedroom apartment of my own and there's something particularly pathetic about that. and its because I live here in Washington DC hell, land of the rising real estate market and city free of its own culture. how can a city not have a feel? that's what cities do, they give the visitor an idea, a sense of what they are, but DC doesn't and its because no one is here long enough to leave a mark.
i'm convinced of nothing. i've been so confused as to what my future will be, where I will be, where matt will be that I've just begun filling in blanks with my own imagined ideas. i will have this and this living situation in this state with these plans. and none of it fits. because how can it? how will i ever get a job, who will ever hire me again. masters in history, job in prominent historical field and center or not. it won't matter at all, that much has become clear. and yet i'm compelled to stay, because what else is there? because where will I go and how will I admit I was wrong?