The time I lived in Africa, and other stories.

the half-empty optimist

The eternal optimist. Is that even possible? Can one really endure the trials & tribulations of life, whilst always maintaining a positive outlook? Surely, people feel sad or negative, right?

Not the eternal optimist I thought I was, clearly.

Years later, highly educated, well-spoken, well-traveled with ample experience; still unemployed. Or should I say underemployed? Working two jobs as a contractor: shot girl & dog walker. Needless to say, was never on my life plan to make a living that way. {Not that I hate my jobs, I just want more from life. Way more.}

So yes, I am the victim of the recession. Crestfallen. Broke. At home. Not where I want to be. And starting to contemplate changing my introduction to “Hello my name is Failure”. 

According to various web articles, I am not alone. However, I feel very alone. No one I personally know is in the same situation as I. 

They have it “all”. Income, cute apartment, great boyfriend, some have pets…

I have none of those. The funny thing is, I’m a huge goal setter. Lists and books lie in my closet from over the years.

I’m talking major ambition. 

Bucket list at 14 {have checked off #2, and a few others}

Perfect man list at 22 {thought I had met him- I was wrong then too. Another failure on my part.}

I made goals when I was young:

Marriage by 27. Kids by 28/29/30. Real job by 23. Nice car by 25. 

So naive. So ambitious. 

Trying to figure out which road I took that wasn’t the right one, but slowly learning the past must be the past. I can only look ahead. 

Two paths stand before me. I must take one, and never look back. 

Go forward in faith, and never look back. Know it will all happen as it should. 

/wan/der/lust

Tugging at my heart is an instiable urge to pack up my belongings and live my life in transit.

Not for the selfish reason of living some sort of lackadasical lifestyle sipping Mai Tai’s on the white beaches in the Carribbean-but to do. To help. To build the capacity of those in circumstances where education doesn’t exist. Where they are not privy to the information that will help them sustain themselves so they too can enjoy: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. To me, the aforementioned are inalienable rights.

The crux of it all, is my lack of resources. 2 solid years of volunteering positions leads one to…loose “it” all. It being money. Money to get there.

Showing up is half the battle, right?

{I have come to the recent conclusion that in a past life, I was drifiter, and that now I have come back to lead a more fulfiling life (with an increase in stability) than my former.}

“She took a step and didn’t want to take any more, but she did.”- Zusak

Taking a purple beach cruiser, I ride into the crisp summer’s night. Fall is rapidly approaching. No longer are nights endless. Darkness comes faster day by day. Guided by the few noticeable stars in September’s night sky, I venture the local suburban lanes and culs-de-sac pondering my next move in life.

As the wind passed through the coniferous quasi-forest that surrounded me, the only sound besides the orchestra of crickets, I half way wished it would safely carry me to my next location without me having to make an effort. Making plans and having them fall through over and over is exasperating, to say the least.

I have 50 days left on this island.  Only 50 more days, and then once again I am thrust out into the great abyss of employment as a twenty-something overeducated, world traveler.

Perhaps my greatest downfall is that I’m a jack-of-all-trades master of none. This is not intentional.  Everything in my life has happened, well, by accident. Every location and twist and turn was pure and utter chance.

Shoot for the moon and end up in another galaxy.

But much like a feline, I have discovered that not only do I have 9 lives, but also I always land on my feet. Gracefully, might I add.

Like a vast majority of recession babies, I have ended up in the endless stack of resumes, which either get tossed out or never looked at in the first place.

At 25 years old, one can’t help but think perhaps her life is so “off track” because she chose the wrong path in the first place. For a girl who believes that everything happens for a reason, that’s a heavy thought.

While most people my age are making salaries, have commas in their checking account balances, getting diamond rings on their left fingers, and hang off a dapper man’s arm…I am still living out of suitcases moving from town to town searching for a location that will take me for me. Oh, and I’m chasing after the elusive idea of a salary.  And a job. That’s fulfilling.

But until then, a ramblin’ lady I shall remain. Now you see me, no you don’t.

God bless the man who tames me.

These Kiteboarders outside my office window are taunting me. 

It’s a miracle if I will get any work done here this summer. 

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