Feeling low

Low

Arrows pointing nowhere

Everyone else following unwritten directions

While I drift through the throng

Push through

Fall through.

I sit down on the pavement

My hands over my head

Frustrated because I’m trying every day.

I try harder than her, than him, than them

Why don’t I get a gold star anymore?

Every day I wake up early

And go to bed sore.

What am I doing wrong?

Where is the happiness at the finish line?

The only endings I see are deadlines I’ve missed.

I need a map, a manual

Clearly marked with straightforward directions.

But nobody seems to have one with my name on it.

And nobody knows who to ask.

So I drift.

Then I push.

Then I sit on the pavement and put my hands over my head

And I cry like a small, weak, lost child.

What do you do with a BA in English?

I did not get a BA in English. I didn't want to read Shakespeare and Milton and Poe and try to apply it to something meaningful. Not that Shakespeare didn't say anything meaningful, but I'm pretty sure everything that could ever be said or thought or believed about him has already been said or thought or believed. Reading literature is fun and all, but the most you can do with it is guess and conjecture. You can "what if" all day and never get anything done. Never say anything.

I wanted to say something.

I majored in writing. Much more practical.

People need writers, don't they? "$15 in 15 minutes" had to come from somewhere, didn't it? Why couldn't that be me? I thought. I could be famous. I could make a living. I could do it.

Nobody told me how, though.

I got so good at following directions. I was so good at school, at writing what they wanted to read, at answering the questions the right way. What do you do when the questions stop? When the tests are over? What then?

I scrambled. I got a job. Not a job writing, because I couldn't find the assignment for that.

I have a confession.

I am afraid I'm not good enough. I have a portfolio of crap. Crap I did in college that nobody wants to see. I have no experience. I've been working for two years in a job I hate with no forseeable way of getting out.

What the hell am I complaining about? I make such good money in this shitty job. So what if it means I get paid to sell people crap they don't need? So what if my job is to walk up to people and interrupt their day? What do I care if people take one look at me and I know they are thinking I am the one person they don't want to talk to, the one person they don't want to see?

This shitty job is taking over my life. I don't know if you know anything about sales. Well, I do know because nobody is reading this and nobody knows everything. Anyway, sales is perpetual. Sales doesn't stop. Sales is as infinite as the sky, as endless as stars, and as difficult to touch. You are always reaching, striving, driving. People driving you, driving each other, driving driving driving from business to business and begging them to give you a chance. Sometimes they do, and then you drive to the next place.

My parents are teachers. I always said I would never be a teacher. Partly because I wanted to break away from what my parents did, partly because I think kids are sticky. But now, I'm jealous. I'm not saying being a teacher is easy. Not by a long shot. I just think it would be nice to have a year end to work for. And summer vacations. And people you see every day that don't hate you, and if they don't talk to you or blow you off, your pay doesn't drop because of it.

I should do something about this. I should quit.

But I can't. It makes good money. I need the money. Maybe in a few years. When I have more money.

But what else can I do? I have no appliable skills. I can be a secretary, I can flip burgers, I can push a button at a factory.

Then why the hell did I do all of that work in school? I can't quit, because then I won't be making good money, and if I don't make money, I have no value.

That's probably a sick way of thinking, isn't it?

I remember, when I was deciding where to go to college, there was this huge book of universities across the country. It listed every school and relevant statistical information about majors, ethnicity, housing, extra-curriculars, tuition, etc. I would sit and peruse for hours, reading, judging, comparing. The options were laid out for me in an orderly, alphabetical book, with all of the information to help me succeed.

They need to make one of those books for careers. I'll start with the A's. Architect: 6 years of education needed, pays $50000 after 2 years experience. Astronaut: No longer available in the US. And so on. Well, maybe I wouldn't want one of those books. Would I want it spelled out for me in black and white that I have no skills beyond convincing people to part with their hard-earned, well-deserved money?

Sometimes my job isn't that bad. Sometimes it really isn't. I know the truth, that I'm really just lazy and I'm tired and I would rather be on summer vacation. I guess I'm just afraid that this is my identity. And I'm afraid my numbers are not going to be good enough this quarter. I'm afraid all the time, and I hate it.

But I'm still no Gryffindor. I'm not brave enough to change. I'll just keep going. I'll do my work, I'll surrender to the man, and I'll wait until I retire. I'll have fun then.