Beyond Weird Pictures: Finding a New Meaning to All This Mess

Having an unfulfilling job is not uncommon. This paragraph doesn't lead to divining advice where everything is transformed or made better if you take "these five steps". Instead, I narrate my own life where I struggle to escape the mediocre. I aspire to be in a working environment where I am pushed to do better, where I have inspiring and intelligent cohorts who are experts in their field. They're funny people who make my life more interesting. And I, theirs.

But what makes me think I qualify for this? I'm no expert in anything per se. I've always had writing by my side but the Paris Review isn't calling me up for submissions by any stretch of the imagination.

This realization hit me when I had to accept that I may be incredibly average. I think I do things differently, I'm creative. I make all homemade gifts at Christmas and send handwritten letters to distant friends. But what do I really DO? I work at a garden center and tend plants. I cater to customers and balance out a cash register every night. I function as a tarnished diner waitress who has that unnerving sort of charm you don't completely understand appreciating, but then I go home and fall asleep with a beer balanced on my belly button. Nothing more. Certainly not less.

So what happens next? I get fed up. I get inspired. I take out all the crappy, numbing habits that slow me down and I try something new. The worst part? Starting something new means abandoning this great mediocre system I've been functioning so well in.

My system has been great: I drink harsh black coffee that makes me feel like a sharp clawed kitten is playing with yarn in my intestine. I eat fried chicken with heavy globby sauces and go by the nickname Blimpie. I come home and drink alcohol that my body purposefully rejects because it's so tired of this bullshit. And I wait. I wait for the TV to advertise me to sleep while my gorgeous boyfriend cups my bum in the night. I wake up and perform the same routine, all while working a job that demands a lot and gives me nothing back.

Except this. It has invited me to wake up and change.

This fog I've been maneuvering under has allowed me to get by each day without having to acknowledge the problems:

-I'm bored.

-I don't have enough counter points that challenge and excite me.

-I no longer do things outside of my home, I used to attend noise shows every week

-I've completely lost what I even care about. I literally don't care

-I'm tired all the time, too tired to change (some can read as: lazy)

The calm comes now. I realize I'm not alone. I realize other people feel this way. We pursue some path in college that leads to graduation that leads to...Let's hope you went in with a really good plan. If not, you're as lost as I am. Six years later still trying to figure it out but so distracted by simply surviving that you've done fucking nothing that you're proud of.

So it can't end like this. It can't keep lingering. I guess this is an invitation. I'm not viewing this as a place where we all come to vent about how much work sucks, but instead- a marketplace where you buy, sell and trade services that make work better. Whether you're staying right where you are, but need to shift your mindset; or totally transforming your life for a more fulfilling future. This could be that place. This could be that change. This is the shift.

I quit coffee, alcohol, bread and dairy because my physical body was shutting down and getting quite upset. I started making myself healthy smoothies, despite feeling angry every time I read another article about how to live and eat more simply. But I won't lie. My brain shifted, just as my gut did. I had one of those cinematic moments where my eyes opened, the clouds parted and I saw the void.

I saw the void I'd been living in, I saw a reflection of myself and felt disappointed by what I've accomplished up to this point. Sick of having conversations with distant relatives who I see around the holidays that "I'm still sort of figuring things out" and glug goes the nog that leads to my santa-induced hangover. We’re all better than this.

Let's start over.