“What are you doing in Ann Arbor?”
It’s a question I find myself answering frequently and it’s an inquiry that deceptively appears open ended. By ‘doing’, they’re actually referring to work. What kind of well paying job have I been given? What financial prospects have enabled me to move away from my college town and parents house? What kinds of prestigious doors of opportunity have opened since having earned my degree?
“Well, friend of my dad and/or person I haven’t seen or talked to in a long time and never really knew all that well to begin with, I’m actually working on a personal project.”
As I continue to explain that while I do fold clothes at Urban Outfitters and freelance when given the opportunity, my “job” is working on this novel I’m really excited about, the expressions on their faces change.
I’m not following this path that people expect me to. This shouldn’t be too surprising, though, seeing that I’ve never done things the way “normal” people do. That’s one reason I know I’m meant to be a writer. So why does it make me feel so bad when I look into the faces of near strangers and feel so uncomfortable? Almost embarrassed for working part time retail and not having that same 9 to 5 gig as everyone else in the universe?
“Times are tough,” they dismiss their adversity, as though I were begging to be graced with their pardon. That’s the point when I check out of the conversation. Change the subject or excuse myself to fake a visit to the bathroom, to relieve myself of unwanted or necessary pity. I try not to be insulted. This isn’t the first and won’t be the last time someone hasn’t believed in me. They don’t understand who I am, what I’m capable of when I put my mind to it. It’s just a struggle, and one that’s more difficult to bear with each additional passing day that writing about Jeff is an emotionally daunting or creatively draining task.
Their deep and cunning observations about the state of the economy are predicable, but they are true. Yes, I am putting shirts on hangers in a basement, a job a monkey could do, beside other recent college graduates: one an Astro Physicist who interned at NASA last summer and another a Marine Biologist. Most people are struggling and will continue to, I get that. Perhaps it should be my primary concern, but it’s not. Instead I’m still hung up the fear of the unknown. This is the first time in my life that I haven’t had a very specific plan when it comes to where I see myself in the short and long run.
All I know at this point is that I want to finish my story and continue spending as much time with Phil as I can. It's going to take some time to figure it all out.
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