Monday, December 3, 2012

Blogging for Spite.

I felt secure about a number of things in my life until the last few years.  You mix in just a few new factors into any situation, though, and anything can change.

Over a ten year span, I'd seldom questioned my relationship.  Situations emerged that reminded me of the feeling of being in love.  I saw my relationship for what it had become.  I was living out Will and Grace without Will being a homosexual.  What happens when what you need isn't necessarily what you want?  When emotions run high, do you even know what it is that you want?  Now I question everything, and I can't seem to arrive at an answer.

I spent six years in the world of higher education gaining a B.A. and a M.A in History.  .I'd majored in something I was interested in rather than something that was practical.  When I grudgingly got my teaching certificate as a back-up plan, I made the wonderful discovery that being a teacher was what I was meant to do.  I loved it.  Then the economy went south, I got laid-off, and that seems to be that.  I've tried for the last three years to find a new teaching position.  I can't even get an interview.  I should be able to remind myself that I'm an expensive hire with my education and experience compared to brand new graduates.  I ought to consider that social studies department positions are always competitive.  That's not what occurs to me.  Instead, I now question if I was ever any good at what I loved doing.  It sounds pathetic, but between schools continuing to cut jobs and competition, I can't say with any certainty that I'll get to work as a history teacher again.  I most certainly question my decisions about career preparation.  Were I to do it over again, I think I'd go for the sure thing instead of following my real interests.  In a world where you can look up anything on Wikipedia to satisfy your curiosity and desire to learn, I really wish I had student loan debt over an MBA instead of a liberal arts degree.

I've never been one to have a lot of friends.  I like having a number of close friends that I know very well, that I trust, that I enjoy, and with whom I truly feel comfortable.  Maintaining these friendships has never been a real issue.  Things evolve, people change, and sometimes roles get filled with new people, but there's never been a period of profound loneliness and loss in my life before.  Over the course of the last three years, this is all that seems to have happened.  I lost the people that were dear to me at the high school where I taught; out of sight and out of mind.  I had re-established relationships with some people through the magic of Facebook.  These were friendships that I foolishly believed would be stronger because of age and maturity.  I thought these were going to be "forever friends."  This proved not to be the case.  Now I don't fully trust anyone to hang around.  I was always cautious about sharing too much of myself with others.  I may share any fact with someone, but allowing myself to connect with someone emotionally is rare.  First of all, it has to be something that is naturally there.  You can't make connections occur; they are there or they aren't.  Then, you have to be willing to let someone in and reciprocate.  There's a great level of trust that is involved.  It hurts way too much to when your trust is dismissed to extend it without caution.  I let myself trust someone that had hurt me terribly in the past because I truly believed it would be different as adults.  I let someone new come in because it hadn't felt so unbelievably right to do so in literally decades.  I question if it's been worth it all the time now.  Is having a partially wonderful situation with someone worth the intense agony of being injured by them?  It's sad to question the practicality of allowing yourself to have meaningful relationships.  It now seems foolish to do so too willingly.  To quote a song, "I've traded all the innocence I ever had for hesitation."

I may not have always been in love with jobs 100% over the years, but I feel like I've always been good at them.  I've never felt like I was a disappointing hire.  Right now, every day when I go to work I question how long it will be before that thought is beamed my way.

Maybe it's a phase.  Sometimes the planets don't align.  People go through periods where they're in a state of flux, and it takes some time before things straighten themselves out.  I feel like I don't have a lot of control over my own life right now.  It seems as if external forces have the bulk of control over what happens and how I live.  I do what I can to not let myself fall prey to this, but I have to admit it's not always easy.  Things will change; it's just a matter of when.   I can do things that need doing, and no one, including myself, will question them.  There are things I can do just because I want to, and they don't have to be questioned.

I've always liked writing.  I claim no prowess.  I don't fancy myself a poet for the ages.  The Pulitzer Prize is not calling my name. I realize there is a difference between formal and informal writing.  There are significant differences between an essay and a purely informational piece of writing.  Academic papers and personal reflections are not the same thing.  Because you prefer one over the other, however, does not mean that you are incapable of producing a satisfactory piece in any of the genres.  As of late I have been informed that I cannot write for shit.  This is not the precise spoken statement, but it is the message.   Who does this?  Who tells someone that the thoughts they have are inadequate and shouldn't be recorded?  Needless to say, the point of anything I put to paper, or type into an electronic device, is absolutely questioned. Regardless,writing is something I like and others indicate they like reading the end product.

I'm really fucking tired of the feeling that everything I want is out of reach or something I shouldn't put time and energy into.  I now don't care that I write things for a cyberspace forum that goes unread.  Occasionally I have things I want to write down.  I think things.  I can say them. I don't need anyone's permission, and I don't need to question myself about doing so.

It may be tiny and insignificant, but if I'm blogging for spite, it suits me fine.

1 comment:

  1. This makes me want to start blogging as my own form of therapy. I am having similar issues of feeling lost without a job to define me. I can't even get an interview to work at the food court. It's disheartening and makes me wish I had gone a more practical route too.