Say it soft and it's almost like. . .

I have a confession: I pray. The atheist voice of my quasi-agnosticism tells me this is silly. The realist voice says, "What harm could it do?" The new-age voice says that praying is a way to fill yourself and the world with positive energy. The Western, monotheistic, Abrahamic voice says, "Of course God is listening and cares." So I pray. Almost every night. Usually, I just give thanks, show humility. Last night I asked for guidance. Internally, the past week has been tough on me. I've been struggling to figure out my next career step. What criteria should I use to decide such a thing? What if I make the wrong choice? What if there is no wrong choice? What if it doesn't matter? And as far as my writing goes, toward the middle of the week, I seriously considered giving it up. I haven't enjoyed it for several years now, and I wasn't sure I ever did enjoy it. This thought kind of pissed me off. In order to improve my writing, I decided to get an English degree which has not helped me at all in finding a job. So I got an unemployable degree in order to improve a skill that I maybe never liked in the first place? I'm such a donkey. Fortunately, I realized that I still love writing; I just need to change my approach. I don't just write anymore. I try to be brilliant. I sit at the computer, thinking, 'put some genius into words. Wow people. Make them marvel at you.' I pressure myself. I believe if I make this project good enough, it will publish, and I will no longer have to worry about a career. I'll make millions off my genius. I still want to be a brilliant writer. I still want to wow people. I still want to publish. But I still need to grow as a writer. I'm still learning. I think we've covered this topic before, but it's hard to improve if you don't give yourself that freedom to be a bad writer, to explore what works and what doesn't, to find your own voice. . . Somehow I got a little sidetracked from my original intention for this post. Last night I got slightly freaked out about my next career step. A few of the choices I have to either pick or eliminate by Tuesday, because that's the deadline for registering for summer classes, and a few of the programs have prerequisites that must be fulfilled before you can take the core classes. So I was doing a lot of wellmaybes and whatabouts and yeahbuts and wouldIreallys and thepeacecorpssoundgoods and whatthehelliswrongwithmes. So last night I prayed for guidance. Now you can attribute the results to anything you like, but I woke up this morning with one thought, "If I can't figure out something that I want to do, then I should do something that others need someone, me, to do." Of all the career options I've considered recently (including those that I haven't mentioned here), the one that seems most needed is nursing. Everyone says it's icky, hard work that is tiring and underappreciated. But it is important. I could see it as being very rewarding. I've done a little looking around on the Internet this morning, and there are a lot of different paths in the nursing field, hospital work, clinical work, administrative work, private practice work, research work, teaching work, and so on and so on. I don't know. It seems like it would be good to have a job where you can actually see the service you're providing, see that you're helping people even if they don't seem to appreciate it. While considering careers that people need, I think I may have actually realized that nursing is something I want to do. And even if it isn't something I enjoy, it is something. Several people have told me that I just need to do something, anything. Just pick something and do it. Just pick something and do it. Just pick something and do it. That should be my mantra. Anyway, unless the adviser I talk to tomorrow convinces me otherwise, I'm going to be a nurse. There. It's settled. Next. . .

On a side note, last weekend we watched A Night at the Museum, and there was a line that got me. "Maybe you're just a regular guy who should get a job." Maybe. . . maybe. . .

While I'm quoting, last night, in an attempt at self-distraction, I was watching Futurama. It was the one where Fry becomes convinced that he is a robot and everyone else tries to convince him that he isn't. "Yes I am. I just haven't discovered my primary function yet." Heh. I can relate to that.

I'm grateful for everyone who has listened to and read my struggles over the past week and for all of their guidance (20).