So it’s been awhile since I’ve felt the urge to write and I’ve noticed that recently I am beginning to feel like I’m 16 again. I feel like I have no real choices of my own anymore. Obviously I know that I have choices and I’m not sliding back into a depressed state as I have in the past. Honestly I’m just numb to the feeling. I feel like I’m stuck in my job, stuck in my mental state, and stuck in the realm of the universe. I’ve been spending a lot of my time trying to figure out what I want to do with my life; where I want to be in five years and all that jazz. I’ve gone through all the channels I can think of; the local community college that I got my initial degree at, the city and state employment agencies, even going as far as going old school, and yes, I’m talking about the newspaper. I was, in no better terms, cock blocked at every turn.
Last week I thought I had had an epiphany. After working all of my adolescent years in food service and customer service, I thought I had finally figured out my goal in life. I decided that I wanted to open my own restaurant. I’m not talking about some big fancy cuffs and tails joint, just a simple breakfast and lunch dive that served local products and great prices with that good ol’ boy feel that everyone was welcome at. Simple, good food. I sat down and truly thought about what I would need to do, what contacts I currently have and which ones I would need to make. I thought about where I would put it and the type of people I would hire and how I would situate my menu. I even thought about the financial aspect and who I would talk to about investing in it. I had everything all down pat and gave myself a year to get it all on track. The final step was to tell my husband of my ingenious plan. So, of course, I did. He was, to say the least, less than enthused, and nothing has been said since.
So here I am again, stuck. I’m in the same position that I was in before. Stuck and unsure of what or where or who I am in a big wide world filled with so many fish that it’s becoming claustrophobic. Just another fish waiting for something to stick to.