Soul Searching in SoDak


My plan this week was to be totally productive in looking for a job and/or a meaning to my life. I thought that by coming home to South Dakota, I could really reflect on what is going on in my life and figure out what it is I want to do next. I thought, "I'll soul search in SoDak."

But it hasn't been going very well.

Between watching Law & Order episodes with my grandma, using every possibly excuse to run an errand so I can jam in my jeep, and peeling my sunburned skin off (so sick, I know but addicting!), I am getting zero work done. I just can't focus. I would much rather look at pictures from this past weekend in Verm and dwell in manipulated memories of when my life was (or seemed) easier than it is now than tackle this monster of a unclear future that is presented in front of me.

To make matters worse, I just booked a temp job for the next several weeks, maybe even the summer, and so now I really feel like I don't need to figure out my future. I have the next three weeks planned, so I'm set! The problem is, like the job itself, this solution is only temporary.

Two more days in the 605 and then I'm back to where I started. Lost.
Which is fine. I just wish I had a map or a compass or something!!

[Whoa... that was heavy! Here's a video to lighten things up a bit.]

Comments

Post a Comment

Leave me a message!

Popular posts from this blog

"Getting Yourself Home"

"It's three o'clock on a winter morning, foggy, the roads slick with ice. You turn in the bed, away from the man and his thick arms, his muscled chest, the wrists powerful from days spent with hammers and saws. You open your eyes and begin to calculate each of the moves it would take to get you out of here: the flip of he blankets, the swing of your legs onto the floor, the search for your clothes crumpled on the chair by the desk, gathering those clothes in your arms and tiptoeing over the creaking planks to pull them on in the other room--the boyfriend muttering from his side of the bed, or not making a sound, his eyes tightly closed, his head twisted away. And then the search for your purse, your shoes, your keys, your coat, standing with all these things by the doorway, trying to decide whether or not to say good night... ...Just the thought of it exhausts you, and when you contemplate even the first of these moves--the turning back of the covers--you realize the imp
Read more