And here it is: The Uncertainty

It had to hit at some point. All my life I've been so sure of what I wanted to do. I started off at detective (like Nancy Drew or Sherlock Holmes), then it went to ballerina, astronomer, veterinarian, and finally, English teacher. I was so sure that I had found the career for me. Teaching English would have been perfect because I was passionate about it and about sharing it with others. I loved writing, I loved editing.

Four years later, and the dream is practically dead. I'm in my "last" year of college, attaining a Professional Communications degree. What am I going to do with it? I'm not sure. I teased my best friend for ages over her indecisiveness. Now I wish I had been indecisive until it came time to pick a major. Maybe I would have gone into another field.

Sailing the Caribbean with my husband is sounding better and better all the time.

I don't like to write anymore. Not just because I get slammed by my professor over edits. I'm okay with the fact that I tried something new, and it didn't go well. Fine. But I put it off, like dishes, or homework. That's what writing is to me now: homework. Work. At home. But not as fun. I'm starting to realize that there was a time in my life that writing was like breathing, and weirdly, blogging still feels the same way. It's free form, I don't mind editing myself, but it doesn't matter if something is wrong because these are my thoughts, on my page, on my blog, damn it. I'll be wrong if I want to be (though in all seriousness, if I post an incorrect fact, I expect someone to let me know).

And while I enjoyed teaching those middle schoolers last Fall, I know that I can't do it again. Sure, college kids are different, but. . . are they really? Looking at myself, and those in my advanced writing class, I'm not too sure. If they were much different, they might have been able to prepare me for the decimation of my writing I just got back from my professor.

So, what else do I enjoy doing? Well, there's video editing. But I would literally need another bachelor's degree, or at least a long term internship (99% of which are unpaid). I'm sick of school. In fact, it's turning into loathing. Don't get me wrong, I love learning. I'm just tired of paying thousands of dollars to do so. Why can't I learn on the job? Psh, such an idealist.

I wanted to be one of the fortunate few who gets paid to do what they love. But when I cringe at the thought of getting my Masters in Creative Writing...something's gotta change.

To make this post more than just a diary-blog, I'm going to bring in the New York Times: Millenials are being faced, more and more, with unpaid internships that lead to absolutely no where. Interns are the new free-workers of the world. Why hire someone for a base level job when you can get someone to do it for free?

“It’s an institutionalized form of wage theft,” said Eric Glatt, 44, one of the plaintiffs who has since helped form an Occupy-inspired group called Intern Labor Rights"

The only jobs that pay these days are the ones that require at least 3-5 years of previous experience. At most I have a year and a half with my video production job.

"Call them members of the permanent intern underclass: educated members of the millennial generation who are locked out of the traditional career ladder and are having to settle for two, three and sometimes more internships after graduating college, all with no end in sight.

Like an army of worker ants, they are a subculture with a distinct identity, banding together in Occupy Wall Street-inspired groups and, lately, creating their own blogs, YouTube channels, networking groups and even a magazine that captures life inside the so-called Intern Nation."

And then there's this:

But the poor job market is not the only reason that recent graduates feel stuck in internships. Millennials, it is often said, want more than just a paycheck; they crave meaningful and fulfilling careers, maybe even a chance to change the world.

Darn Millennials, wanting to make the world a better place and enjoy doing it too.

Why couldn't I be a numbers girl? Science and math fields are begging for applicants.

I feel like I should be taking notes for my nieces. By the time they hit middle school, they'll have to be in all the clubs and sports they can get their hands on, not to mention be running for class president, ect. By high school they should be interning somewhere, and when they hit their first year of college, that's when the real fight begins. The next generation is going to have to decide what they 'want to be when they grow up' at the age of 12 so they can begin to prepare.

I'm not saying I'm against a competitive job market. But the current trend is depressing and discouraging. I'm going to start looking for a sailboat. Travel blogs can get sponsored, right?

I'm listening to Christmas Music and Sippin...Grape Juice?

Seriously. Grape juice. I'm not enjoying it, but I wanted something fruity and it was the only thing we had in the fridge that fit that category. I don't think anything could go together less: grape juice and Perry Como's "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas." That's why I'm making hot chocolate and waving as the purple juice swirls its way down the drain. Good-bye, attempt at being healthy. Give me a chocolate death any day of the week.

You know what? I miss snow. I miss fat flakes of frozen water kissing my eyelashes, the layer upon layer upon layer that was required just to venture outside. Granted, 35 degrees gets pretty cold sitting on a carriage just off the river, wind slashing at my face and stiff fingers like it's 12 below zero. Of course, glancing at the temperature in my home town (-17 to Savannah's 50!) makes me thankful that I am sitting in the South.

I can't help but stare at the barren ground beneath our deck. Because it rains in the South instead of snows, the grass is anything but dead. The trees in Savannah, Live Oaks, are green year round. Aside from a dramatic temperature difference, it is summer year round. Only in the last few weeks have the five deciduous trees in town turned color. It's two weeks from Christmas. And yes, I'm dreaming of a white one. Give me frozen lungs, snot that you have to chip from your nose, and white puffs of air with every brave exhale. Give me the ice crystals hanging from the dead tree limbs. I even long (slightly) for the sunny sky, indecipherable from the white horizon.

Of course, once Christmas is gone, I'll be able to embrace the Sunny South once again. But the one time that snow, cold, and slush is welcome is during December. I like drinking hot cocoa, looking at the Christmas lights outside and being thankful for central heating. It's weird, walking outside in a t-shirt in the middle of December. So now, I drink hot cocoa, staring at the plethora of lights on the fake tree (it's a sin, I know, but weirdly, we have so much furniture in the house now that we don't have room for a live one) and walk outside only when John needs to smoke. I stare at the white puffs that float from his lips, because 50 degrees is too warm for it to come out of my nonsmoker's mouth.

I never thought I'd meet people who have never seen snow in person. To them, snow is something perfect and gentle that floats down from the sky as the tween laughs and turns in circles, grinning at the camera. They are shocked to hear about the nasty side effect of the cold: ice. Ice on the roads, ice on your house, ice in your nose. When John told our friends about having a survival kit in the trunks of our cars in case we break down in the dead of winter, they stared at us. Apparently, being able to die from exposure to weather is weird. Huh. Fancy that.

Despite the danger of Christmas in Northern Minnesota, at least there was some snow. I can't wait to move somewhere (like the mountains, or even Oregon) that has all four seasons. I've loved having this heat (I'll take fire over ice any day), and as much as I bitch about the cold...there are just a few months out of the year that it needs to happen.

Second in one day.

I couldn't help but post again. I was thinking, after my last post, about teaching. And I got excited. I hate to say it but a big part of me wishes I could find ways to engage kids with writing that has nothing to do with technology. This is the absolute opposite of my favorite teacher and mentor, but I can't help it. I'm one of the Millennials that grew up with technology inundating my life, but I don't know how to use 90% of it. I finally just figured out Twitter, for god's sake. The only reason why I'm on Twitter now is because I rediscovered my favorite college professor (who now works as a journalist in Bemidji) tweets regularly. Plus, I realized that I can avoid the stupidity of the world (mostly) by following 'people' like CopyBlogger and the New York Times and Simon Pegg.

This probably isn't the way to go (and is similar thinking of way too many bad teachers), that I shouldn't use the tech just because I don't understand it. After all, without technology, I wouldn't have found the Lizzy Bennet Diaries on Youtube, which I'm determined to use if I ever have to teach Pride and Prejudice to my students. Mostly, because it's the funniest and most entertaining thing I've ever seen come from youtube.com.

I just want to be in, and create, an atmosphere where people want to write fearlessly. If that means I'm going to have to figure out...well, anything on Reynolds' blog, then I guess I'm going to have to get with the program. Wish more of my professors felt the same way.