May 6, 2015

Jenga Blocks and This Life Thing

The passage of time is an interesting thing. I still don't understand how five days can feel like an innumerable amount of years. I was in Burlington, Vermont less than a week ago dying to get out of college. Now I'm trying to readjust to life in a house where I have to wash dishes and cook meals, but at least I don't have to leave the house to eat.

I still have nothing on jobs, just more applications and interviews and trying to plaster a smile on my face that says "hire me" but when asked why I want the job I freeze because I do not know. I want the job because my mom wants me to have one. I want the job because I can't afford college without one. Or even with one for that matter. I want the job because I would get bored sitting in my sister's house all day, and it would make me fat and lazy with no work ethic. I want the job because it's a job and it will give me life experience I will maybe one day write into a book. I want the job because I'm so sick of wondering what job I'm going to have.

But the last two days were so much more relaxing anyway, and today I even got to walk to the library with my sister in sunshine. I am amazed by my own self's desire for sunshine, and I don't know how I let myself end up living in Vermont. But the walk was nice, with flowers along the way and an almost not cold wind. We got to spend plenty of time in the library finding books for summer reading (I checked out Wizard of Earthsea) and then walk back books in arm while she pointed out this little town's landmarks. (Her husband's office, her church, the new courthouse, Main Street.)

We also spent a large chunk of the day playing Jenga, which I mostly lost. I find it strange how often I wish for things to stay together. Brokenness, destruction and pain, like the news of a good friend laying in the hospital in a coma after he overdosed, terrifies me. And yet here is this game which inevitably ends in destruction and chaos and brokenness. The loud crash of blocks hitting the table and spilling onto the floor makes me jump, but it makes me laugh and want to play again. Maybe it's a reminder that the end of something doesn't have to be a bad thing, or maybe it's the hopefulness of it that I love. No matter how many times the tower falls you can always set it back up and start over.

I'm afraid I've rambled too much. I shouldn't write posts in the middle of the night when I should be asleep. But I'm too full of words tonight and even though I got to talk to my best friend back home and chat with my boyfriend and talk to my sister is n person, I still think better in written words sometimes.

I don't know what my point is. I'm just trying to figure out how this life thing works. How do I fit a thousand years into one day? How do I fit one day into a thousand years? Thank goodness the One I've trusted my life to isn't constrained by this awful time thing. 

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