…based on a true story.

I wrote this sometime between 2:30 and 3am.  I didn’t proof read it.  I’m not sure it even makes sense.  I think I used just about every 3 words.  Proceed with caution.

Where am I and how did I get here?

This year has been crazy.  Scratch that, these past 4 years have been crazy.

I always had this road I expected to see myself drive down.  I google mapped it.  I knew where to expect each landmark.  I knew where to take every turn, where to merge, and where to keep right.

I always figured the road I was on would turn into that one. Boy was I wrong.

Since my dad was diagnosed with cancer 4 years ago, my life hasn’t taken any expected turns.

I didn’t finish college in 4 years.  I lived as a “monk” for a year.  I coached Soccer for a season.  I went to Africa.  These are just a few of the things I never saw coming.

This last month I’ve really been wrestling with the whole school thing again. (Surprise Surprise)  I don’t have anything against education.  It’s just that I don’t know what the crap I’m doing anymore.  I was once so passionate about becoming a teacher and History.

Now, it was hard for to come to terms with this, but now, I loathe History.  That’s not entirely true.  I hate academic history.  It’s just a bunch of people arguing their versions of history, and I’m sick of all the debating. In reality, that is history.  It’s just that I’m finally coming to realize this.  Well, I realized it pretty soon.  I’m just now realizing, it’s not fun anymore.

As for teaching, well that’s a big mixed bag of emotions.  Part of me knows I was made to teach.  In Ethiopia, I felt God smiling when I taught those kids English.  I wrote my mom something along the lines, “This is what I was meant to do.”  But now when I think of teaching, I don’t want to deal with all of the red tape–teaching to the test, government standards, and teaching the same subject 4 times a day.  I don’t want to do it anymore.
You know, picking a major at 18 is so unfair.  How was I to know I would change this much in 4 or 5 years?  Now I want to be a creative writing major or social worker, or both.

What’s the point of this degree if I’m never going to use it.  Is this just an ugly batch of burnout?

But the worst of it is that I’m only about 24 credit (or that ballpark) hours from graduating.  24 credits from a Degree in History and a minor in Writing.  What am I supposed to do with a degree in something I can barely stand?

I’ve never had to think about a career before.  I was always going to be a teacher and be good at it.  I would move up until I picked the classes I wanted to teach.  All my students would love me and I would be half stand up comedian half history wizard.  My classroom environment would consist of rainbows, butterflies, cool quotes and Napoleon (Bonaparte not Dynamite) (Who am I kidding, Dynamite too).
What if I never make a difference in this world.  What if I have a job that has no purpose? What if I never get back to Ethiopia?

I’m truly scared of never leaving retail.  Not to knock retail or anyone that works it, but if I have to sell home decor for the rest of my life I think I might lose it.

I’m scared of routine.  I’m scared of a routine I hate.  I’m craving routine.

I feel this immediate need for adventure.  I’m so restless.  I want to go on a road trip. I want to back pack across Europe.  I want to hitchhike to Mexico City.

But I have to work tomorrow.  People need their glitter reindeer.

I know, I know, that verse in Jeremiah.  God knows the plans He has for me.  Just have faith and everything will be fine.  But I’m in chaos.  Not like everything is falling a part chaos, just the chaos of life that makes you believe that there will never be order again and I’ve been here for a while.  I could use a healthy dose of order and a shot in the butt with understanding.  Please Jesus. Please.