Its Snowing

Its been awhile.

If I could sum up my last few months in one word, it would be "frustration".

I had this image on returning to America the triumphant hero. That I would stroll in and America would bow to my worth and value. I imagined I could apply to any old job and get it, extol my exploits and be welcome in the most exclusive circles, cast a wayward glance and watch the girls swoon.

This has not been the case.

The frustrations are numerous. For one, job hunting sucks. There just isn't anything out there that I WANT to do. I don't want to sell insurance or count peanuts for Scruge McDuck. All the jobs that seem right for me require years of experience in the field, but no one tells us how to get into the field.

The usual laments of a 20 something.

David Eggers comes to mind. In his modest memoir "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" he extols that strange mix of hope, desperation, and, worst of all, possibility that plagues us. I haven't read the book in years, tho it always sticks with me. Its the story, his story, of finding purpose and direction in those listless twenty something years. He uproots, starts a magazine, works hard, and fails and succeeds. He does stuff. I sit at home and watch my bank account, hoping some math lesson I missed in 8th grade will change that little numbers color.

Read the book, its good.

Today the snow started falling in giant fluffy flakes. It was the kind of snow fall that makes you dream of sleigh rides (not that anyone has ever actually been on a sleigh ride) and little villages nestled in the woods with warm fires and fat women inside each little home. It was the kind of snow that lulls you into a feeling a security. The snow left me with the idea that everything will be alright.

Now I look out and the snow continues to fall but its changed. Its now the kind of snow that will make the going tough and reminds you that its a long cold winter ahead. I guess thats how these things go. When it all starts you revel in the challenge, welcome the exciting, long for the difficult. You measure yourself against the idea.

Now, I can only measure myself against the reality.