Feeling mortal at the moment. I'm looking at 28 in a few months, and I hardly feel settled. I have a child and a husband. But, being in publishing, I only have a job. I'm terribly unsure of a career for having been so career oriented in college. I feel like Paul Kemp, having a surreal ending to a sort of tropical paradise gone wrong, heading off to start all over again.
Since I started working full time after finishing the M.A., I haven't stopped looking for another job. Nothing feels secure when you're lowest on the totem pole. Nothing seems to have worked out in the search as well. Is it the universe's hint to stop looking and invest in a real job? Or is it that the right thing hasn't come along.
I went to school to teach literature, only to find adjuncting, and nothing permanent.
Things are in flux.
