What if ...?

So, what if I don't want to teach?
What if what I always thought I wanted to do really isn't what I want to do anymore?
What if I don't know what I want to do?
What if I do know what I want to do but I'm too scared to figure out how to make it work?
What if what I really want to do goes against everything I ever really thought I wanted to be?
What if I want something more?

I don't know if I'm scared because I'm finally coming into my last semester of college and I'm afraid I can't do it, or if I really did miss it before and no longer want the same things that I did when I was younger.

Tomorrow is exactly 4 months before I graduate from college. It's time to start seriously evaluating the question of "what do you want to do when you graduate?" I think I'm more frightened than I ever thought I would be. Or maybe frightened isn't the right word. I think I'm feeling my insecurities -- I think I may be "feeling" too much.

There's this program I looked into that allows you to teach overseas for a period of time yada yada yada ... and I really liked it and wanted to pursue it, but that was back in the summer. Now, as I get more and more emails from them highlighting their programs and encouraging people to apply, I'm not sure if the timing is there. It's something I've wanted to do ... and something I still want to do, but maybe not right away. I think what the biggest issue at the forefront of my freaking out is that I can't really apply until like May. In my perfect little head of mine, I was hoping to have a plan set and in place by May -- I think I'm a little too high strung.

But all my life I've had a plan. I've known exactly what I wanted to do and the timing I wanted to do it in and although little details change here and there, pretty much I've had the same picture in my head for years. Now, although I can still see that picture, I don't know if I like it so much anymore. I have different desires, different passions. I think I'd still love to teach, but in what context? Where does writing fit in? How about a family? I'm laying here freaking out because I want to do what I'm most passionate about, and I don't know what that is anymore. Two of my three ideas I can control, I can decide to pursue, the other one, well you kinda need two people to make a family.

I can't believe I'm finally growing up. Seriously, I'm scared out of my mind and if I were a swearing person there is a phrase that fits this situation much better, but to stick to my morals I'm going to refrain -- but I'm sure you get the idea.

I just read this amazing book about this amazing girl who's doing amazing things that she loves and I'm thinking to myself ... I want to be like that. I want to know for a fact that I'm doing what I am supposed to be doing, something that I love and something that I can have an influence on. I know God has a plan and a purpose for my life, I'm just wondering if the path is taking a sharp curve in the near future.

Oy. Sorry for the rant, I just needed to get that out.

Season 2 at Pawn Starz

The first thing I do after the door is unlocked while my uncle is resetting the alarm is run to the thermostat. It's different now that it's winter. Instead of turning the fan on and dropping the temperature, I frantically push the up arrow until the screen reads 70 degrees. I wrap my sweater just a little bit tighter as I walk to the back and unlock the two interior doors and reach over golf clubs and cardboard boxes to flip on the lights. Keeping my jacket pulled tight around me, I make a round through the store, making sure everything is still in its somewhat chaotic order. I check my DVD's -- my project for the few short weeks while I'm here -- all in place, no spaces left between the cases.

Through the door, I see the green pick up truck pull into the parkinglot. Jerry's here; time to open. Lester saunters through the door with his oversized sweatshirt, beanie cap and smile already on his face. "Mornings" are exchanged as I flip the closed sign to Open! Reaching over the new ATM, I pull the tiny chain to light up the purple and green neon sign. I wander back through the side aisle, past the golf video game and flip on the case lights. With customers already pulling open the door, it's time for my coat to come off -- unfortunately.


At 11:30, the thermostat still hasn't reached its designated 70 degrees, but we've had several sales, and even bought some gold. The TV's on the table are blaring stories of sports events and happenings as they prepare for one bowl game or another. Red Bulls are popped, first round of cigarrettes smoked, so now we wait for the early afternoon rush.

The guys here have become a family: Jerry, Steve, Lester, Jason, Uncle Doug and now Jenny's been added to the mix. Each has their schedule, their responsibilities and work together in unison, keeping the shop running smoothly and effectively. I miss these guys when I go home. Lester occasionally tags me in some pictures of the shop and I get this kind of homesickness feeling in the pit of my stomach while I anxiously await the next time I can skip, tightly bundled or not, into the store and prepare for yet another day spent at Pawn Starz.