Are people ever where they think they were going to be? It’s so usual to talk about every point in life like it’s a transition to something else, which, of course, it is. But it’s also the point that was just transitioned to. Time is funky that way, points all arranged on a line, creating a path. A wave and a particle all at once. I came home to Idaho two-and-a-half weeks ago, interviewed the first day I was home and started a new job the second. I had thought my job search was still casual and things moved much more quickly than I was expecting. It makes shopping less stressful to know that there’s money coming in, though. I caught the dreaded cold four days after getting back, probably because I refused to avoid hugging anyone. Now, after being in a snuffle-headed fog for about fifteen days, being tossed headfirst into job training and trying to find my equilibrium with being at home once more, I’m starting to feel a little less like running screaming for the hills.

The new job is convenient, located just ten minutes from my current residence and gives me a very easy, almost normal person schedule. It’s a restaurant, I promise, but I’ve somehow ended up with an 8-3ish Monday through Friday shift. So, yes, the hours are certainly shy of a full forty-hour week and I’m not entirely content with the pay rate. If I’m honest, I think the work will bore me fairly quickly as well. On the other hand, it has low gas costs, seems to pay about on par with the other area jobs I’ve seen posted and I wouldn’t be too broken up about leaving it in the fall, if I decide to return to Colorado. Yep, going back to Colorado is on the table. I guess I’m just reluctant to give up that free ski pass.

Okay, okay, the ski pass isn’t a big factor in my thought process. The pay, work, and other company benefits are factors. I was feeling rather strung out immediately after getting back home, which was rather unexpected. After all, I’m home with no contractual obligations to return to a position in Wyoming or Colorado, although I was offered summer positions in both locations. Wyoming offered a sous-chef job which was the career advancement type position I was looking for, but not quite attractive enough to make me surrender my long-promised, long-awaited summer at home. Colorado offered a regular cook position at the golf course, and I have stress memories involving golfers and the quantity of bacon they consume. Or at least, I pretend I have stress memories about it, because it’s fun to be dramatic on occasion. Actually, I turned it down for mostly the same reasons as turning down Wyoming. I needed time with my people. And now I’m going to take the summer to parse out how many of my post-college thoughts and behaviors have been related to being not-at-home and how many of them are an inner rebellion at things not going according to plan.

Full circle. Recognize the theme? Time and expectations and location. My place and your place and the collision of orbits or the elliptical avoidance of collision, whether it was desired or not. It’s not an original thought, I know. These ideas I’m hashing out with myself are ideas I’ve seen hashed silly here and there and everywhere during my years of reading fictions and non-fictions and the blurred areas in-between.¬† I don’t expect life to be perfect, ever, really I don’t. It’s full of flawed situations and people and I’m a part of that, even when I try not to be. But I have had moments. Moments when I was sitting outside my own head, looking at the place I was in and feeling overwhelmingly content. And I want to find a way to fit as many of these moments into life as possible. The trouble is remembering the old moments and trying to evaluate the factors that meshed to create the joy. Life is too much of a progression to re-create the old experiments and in an extremely unscientific fashion, I’m testing the different portions of the scenarios to see of any of them manage to trigger more moments.

There’s a peace to being at home that hasn’t come out anywhere else in life, but myself is still elusively unsettled with my current situation. Why do all the resorts of my dream job have to be located so far from home? And going through four seasons of new jobs and meeting fewer hang-out buddies at each new location until the last two weeks of my last rotation is so very utterly and completely unfair. What’s that saying about life and fairness again? So here’s my emotional angst all laid, rather unfunnily on the page. I’m laughing at my utter normalcy, though. I’m unsettled and feeling out my place and deciding on directions for my life and it’s very unoriginal of me, which is rather disappointing. After all, I’m the supreme overlord of an imaginary intergalactic empire, surely these petty worries which plague the other humans should be beyond me.

Perhaps I shall expand my minion recruitment program into Colorado. Perhaps I shall settle more firmly in Idaho. Perhaps I shall see the world on the open horizon and make up my mind to seek out new universes. But first, the summer.

Wondering about my mental soundtrack (I know you were wondering about my mental¬†state, but not even I’m sure of that one) while I was writing this?

The Wanderer got me started, then I triggered memories of Newsboy’s Your Love is Better Than Life. I Choose Grace, by Twila Paris was in the backbrain for a while, and of course, this being a blog about self-discovery and progress, Natasha Bedingfield’s Unwritten helped me finish it off.