The whole month of September really snuck right by me, probably because I was in the midst of a carefree, jobless splendor for close to five weeks. On Monday, October 4, my sweet ride through life will make an abrupt halt as I return to work, full-time, as a Children’s Librarian. I will miss all of the cherished Me Time, during which I accomplished many tasks, honed my abilities as a domestic goddess, and caught up on some hobbies. It has been a great month, but it will also be nice to get back into a normal routine, make money, and, as someone I live with might say, “get off [my] ass and get a job.”
Though I am excited to be working again, I’m feeling a little apprehensive about the big picture. Change is scary. To a person who ate an egg sandwich for lunch every day for four months in a row, starting a new routine, job, and commute is a pretty big deal. I also can’t help but think about how I’m stepping onto the next stepping stone of Life, and because things happened the way they did, and because of the job that I’m about to start, these things will, in turn, affect the next step that comes along. Like I have done in the context of many other jobs, a couple of years from now I’m sure I’ll be saying, “Can you imagine what would have happened if I didn’t get that job in Piscataway? If I never worked there, I never would have done X, Y, and Z.”
Some people might look at life’s events as a series of occurrences that were meant to happen in order for me to fulfill my destiny or purpose, while others may see these events as random and serving no ultimate goal (e.g. Jack v.s. Locke). I still don’t know which side of the spectrum I fall on. I just thought it would be worthwhile to acknowledge the fact that one chapter is ending and another is beginning, and this will likely lead to scenarios that will only materialize as a result of this specific change.
Pretty fuckin’ crazy, I think.