Loitering at the Crossroads

August 8, 2002

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And in this same book I have lived on higher ground. Not yet a year, and most of my time spent back home has been devoted to nursing bad habits. What does it matter if I prefer to waste my days doing nothing? I am beginning to sense another change in the tides where a previously viewed notion is converted into a completely different concept. I have nothing figured out.

Still no job. If this keeps up, I may end up working at the Texaco down the street. Last Friday I joined a temp agency but I am skeptical about ever hearing from them again. I was at that place for two and a half hours filling out applications with the same information, and taking tests to rate my competence. I had to take a written test, a typing test, a data entry test, a Microsoft Word test, and an Excel test. While I was getting all my hair chopped off a month and a half ago at the salon, I ran into one of my old bosses from A2D Technologies, and taking advantage of the situation, I asked if they were doing any hiring, but apparently the company is downsizing. I’m tempted to go up there anyway and see if I can at least work part-time. I’m desperate. I have officially entered the fullest extent of my rut. I wish I was in Yellowstone.

I have nothing except for everything on my mind. Sometimes I want to get as far away as possible, but my movement is slow and delayed.

Lately I have been feeling as though my life is going absolutely nowhere and that my accomplishments are sparse, but tonight I may have a better handle on the situation. Still toiling with the idea of having a book of poetry and journal entries published, I decided to skim over some of my past journals, and I am now aware of my gradual but evident progress. I must never quit trying. I think I would rather strive for a faraway goal than settle in for a lifetime. I know now why people stay. I know now why dreams rarely come true, but I will never accept what I don’t want. Anyway, I knew there was a reason why I kept a journal. Through words written in recent but distant years, I was able to inspire myself. And maybe I will return this next summer. Just one last time before I am forced to commit to something.

Author: Lindsay Niemann

Writer | Graphic Artist