Flaky as a French Pastry

Right now, with the start of school only a few weeks away, I’m doing an on-the-hour-every-hour re-calculation of my decision to go back. Part of me wonders what the hell I’m doing.

I’m leaving a stable, secure job (in a market where I’ve heard some people say “I’m just happy to be employed“) to enter training for an industry that’s saturated, insecure and uber-competitive. I’m feeling foolish.

This can’t be good…

It’s not even like I hate my current job. In fact, I find it quite rewarding – most days. This obviously makes the justification to myself that much harder.

I feel selfish to be dissatisfied with what I have now. It seems frivolous. It’s something our parent’s generation would never have contemplated. To be quite honest … it feels flaky at this point in life to say “nah. I’m not yet satisfied with the two degrees I already have… I’m going to spend some more time, and more money exploring what I think I want to do now.” The truth is, I’m terrified that I’m basing my decisions on my latest ideas. I mean … at one point I wanted to open up a fabric store… and now I’m trying to be a journalist? Seems flaky to me…

Makes a mess no matter how you try to take a bite

And yet, here I go. I have lofty dreams of doing something I think I’ll really love… which really shouldn’t be that lofty of a desire… Unless of course you’re not sure the risk is really going to take you to that “ideal place” in the end.

Gah. I’m going back to listening to Hot Knife to take the pressure off for the time being (Completely unrelated song from Fiona Apple’s new album =excellent).


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