The Wordless Year

I used to be a writer. I used to love to write. I’d write every day—in my head mostly, especially in college.  It was much easier than finding time to sit down peacefully with my thoughts and transcribe them onto paper, or a Microsoft document. No, it was much easier just to talk it out in my head.  It would never quiet down in there anyway, so, why not– right?

My life changed a lot last year when I graduated from college and moved home as everyone I knew and loved moved away to start their own lives elsewhere.

And there I was, standing in the middle of the street…with a balloon in my hand shivering in a white fluorescent tank top.  Okay, so it wasn’t that dramatic.  But it felt as such.

I questioned whether or not to bring this up. I feel like every time I write it’s to complain, wallow, or inform my computer and validate it by typing it out in text; and it’s usually something warring, unwanted, or unforgiving. I have a knack of not mentioning the good stuff.  Not that there’s been much of that lately.  (See, there I go again).

So, the deal is: I got (had—yep), a Part-Time job, that I feel like I solidified last May.  It wasn’t the most glamorous or earth shattering thing to mention – I was to nanny everyday / tutor a little girl (barely 2), while her mother was at work.  Should I mention that this was the only job I was able to come across with since I stopped my last one (After School teacher) last March? And, I was only being able to come by it through family friends too, even.

When I talked with the Mother and we solidified the position, I was so, so, SO, very relieved.  I had been looking tirelessly for a job, any job, for at least half a year now, and I could finally sit back and relax.  Who cares that Nannying was all my 5 years of studying at a UC could land me—I was going to get PAID!  Who cares how much.  PAID.  Paaaaaiddddddddddddd.

The excitement stemmed from the fact that I would finally be able to start saving to visit my boyfriend (who’s in Hawaii for Grad School—lucky duck), save to pay for my own insurance, be able to go on ice cream runs more frequently, and, most importantly, I could start saving for Nursing School – if I decided I wanted to go that route.

(20 minutes later)

I’m going to continue this story tomorrow. It’s getting late (2:30am—yes, I’m a night owl).  And, frankly, I forgot where I was in my dictation; as I was distracted by Instagram (don’t have one, but enjoy perusing others’).  Plus, I might as well learn what a CLIFFHANGER is, and this is a great start.

3 thoughts on “The Wordless Year

  1. Emily says:

    Isn’t it crazy how life works out? Things never, ever go according to plan. But, when we step back and let things happen, that unpredictability can actually be beautiful. You’re an amazing writer, by the way! I can’t wait to hear the rest of this story…
    PS: You definitely need to get an instagram! <3

  2. I totally feel you. I used to be a writer, I used to call myself a writer, then I thought maybe I’m not really a writer unless I get paid for my writings.. I too, have struggled with writing for many years throughout college and afterward until one day I stopped thinking about it so much and just began to write again. Life after college rarely goes as planned and this seems to be life’s funny way of teaching us most valuable lessons in life. I am currently a mommy of two girls and haven’t been paid for my job for many years, if that makes you feel any better. ;)

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