The newest installment in an ongoing series of late-night ramblings

The night is definitely the hardest part. By nighttime, I am full of regret for things I didn’t do that day; full of guilt at not eating right lately; and full of fear that I won’t get a job, that no one will hire me, that no one will even call me for an interview. It’s very strange, troublesome, that I am sort of “competing” for the same jobs with several of my friends right now. It makes me uncomfortable, but what are you going to do? It’s a very weird time. I wonder if it’s a mid/late-30s thing. BT finally got a job, after almost a year since he quit his last one. Not counting the months he spent in NM. He starts on Monday. He has mixed feelings – relief and dread. I so get it – I think that’s how I’ll feel too. Because of course I know logically that I will get another job. I am definitely not freaking out during this bout of unemployment like I did 5 years ago, so that’s better. So I will be a little sad when things go back to routine. Then again, I suppose it will be a different routine no matter what it is or where it is. Which brings me to the big question: where to go? Right now I’ve only applied to jobs in Austin. There are several jobs in Colorado that I’m qualified for, but I haven’t taken that plunge yet. I feel like once I submit my resume in another state, the can of worms has been opened. And that makes me feel both excited and panicky.

I had a very vivid dream last night that I had decided, definitively, that I was going to move to CO. And I felt this huge freedom, this immense sense of relief. And no fear. And even while still dreaming, I was cognizant of the fact that it was a dream, but maybe I would feel better about everything when I woke up. And I did, but the fear was back. I have spent the last 12 years building a life in Austin. I have roots here. I have a home, I have friends that are like family. I have a network of career contacts. I have a LIFE. Then why am I so intrigued at the thought of starting over? I have felt brief sparks of that excited twinge I get when I think about moving into a new place – how cool it is to change environments, to change up routine. I would be close to my nephews. I could build a life in Denver. But in 12 years, I’ll be 48 (GASP) and I don’t want to be aimless way into my 40s, still trying to find my way in the world.

Then there’s the forbidden option, the scariest idea of all, and the one that of course tantalizes me late at night, making a mess of my guts. There is the sell-it-all-and-move-to-Europe option. Worry about getting a job when I get there. Besides the obvious logistical problems of, well, selling everything, there’s also the issue of my kitties, who I couldn’t see leaving behind. And when I start thinking about the details of making it happen, I get anxious and tired and flip on NYPD Blue (because it comes on Court TV at 3am, did you know??) and blitz out until I fall into a fitful sleep. And the next morning (and it’s getting to be late morning, these days) I feel fresh again, and hopeful, and optimistic. And then the whole process begins again. Until I arrive here the next night, at 2:30am, obsessing and blogging, blogging and obsessing. Again.

I don’t even know if this makes sense. At least I don’t feel paralyzed this week; I finished updating my resume and started sending it out, so that’s progress. I want to start planning for my CO trip, but that’s delving into the forbidden can of worms…

…but of all insects, I suppose worms are pretty innocuous. Worms aren’t so bad, are they?

[aside; seemed like a nice little closing statement when I typed it, until my restless, tired mind reached into the depths of my memory to Friday Fright Night in Kansas in the late 70s. Every Friday there was a different horrible horror movie and the worst one of all still haunts me: Squirm. If you haven’t seen it…well I don’t know what to tell you. I really wish I could forget…]

fucking worms.