I am suffocating in this vast mountain valley. With The Great Outdoors just steps from my front door, all I want to see is concrete and asphalt. Instead of snow capped mountaintops I want to look up and see glass-laden buildings. I want to live on a tiny island that's dirty and expensive and spectacular, in a tiny studio, where a million people all try to hail the same cab. I need to get to that island. I need to head east. I need to say "So long, I'm going to the Concrete Jungle."
I've been feeling a lot of anxiety about my future lately. The grace period after having a life-affirming surgery has worn off; the months that all you do is revel in how great you feel and all the things you no longer have to do have finished. That's gone and now I'm getting worried. I have a great job, but it's a job and not a career. I don't want to be mediocre and I'm afraid I'm hurtling down that path presently. I didn't work so long and hard for my degree to be a secretary for the rest of my life.
I, luckily, am a big believer that things happen for a reason. Before Christmas I saw a long lost friend at church. He was in town for the holidays. We sat in the chapel and talked through the second hour and into the third. He told me about living in New York and how a year in the right job can open up virtually any opportunity you like. I told him about my undying dream to work in the world of publishing and how I was on the verge of giving up after applying for years with no response, and I wasn't sure where to go next. I was thinking about law school, had taken an LSAT prep class but really, law wasn't where my heart was. It was still in New York at Penguin and Random House or any publishing firm that would house me.
It was one of my favorite parts of Christmas, catching up with him, and he planted a thought in my head that led to an action that led to the discovery of an opportunity. That discovery led to a plan for a possible future, the one I've wanted and hoped for, which still very much lives and burns within my soul. Maybe it's blind optimism (never a trait of mine) or maybe it's just wishful thinking, but the pieces have been falling into place. I have 3 months to wait, 3 months to perfect, 3 months to hope. 3 months until I find out if my life is going to go where I hope it goes. To the Concrete Jungle.