The very first load of laundry in the new washing machine was comprised of:
1 pair of overalls (covered in paint)
1 tank top (also, covered in paint)
2 SMI t-shirts
1 pair camo cargo shorts
1 kitchen towel
I sat there on the laundry room floor watching the window of the washing machine toss and turn this band of haphazard travellers for the full 1 hour and 26 minutes of the cycle and tried to figure out what to do with my life.
Moving back to California 3 1/2 years ago, I knew this was not the job for me as it was an insult to my abilities. Because my company had paid for my move back home, I had to sign a document stating that I would not quit for the next 2 years. My misery turned into apathy and I just showed up every day and every day after that until the last 3 1/2 years had passed. It wasn't living so much as it was merely existing.
Yesterday at work, I was used as a scapegoat. Half of it was based on things that I have absolutely no control over and the other half occurred because I stopped fighting for myself. Regardless, sitting there in that meeting yesterday, I watched the window for James' car as he was supposed to pick me up from work. At a little after 3:30 I jumped up and said I had to go even though I did not see his car there. On my way out, I said I would not be in the next day as I needed time to think but what I really meant was I needed to say was that I wasn't sure if I would come back at all.
As it turns out, James had called while I sat in that meeting to explain that he was running late and the washing machine was being delivered later. I called him back and told him that I couldn't spend another minute in the office so I was just going to start walking until I found a place to be and I would meet him there.
I ended up at St. John's on Lawrence.
I ordered a beer and sat down at the bar. I sent out a text message to a few folks saying that I was looking for a job. My cell phone is still ringing with job offers.
An older man came and sat down next to me. He ordered a glass of wine and talked to the bartender about the Sunnyvale free jazz shows. He made a comment about how my phone would not stop ringing. He kind of reminded me of Clarence, the angel from 'It's a Wonderful Life" with his kind face. When his glass of wine was still half full, he order coffee spiked with brandy and alternated drinking them both. We talked about God and charity.
He started a charity organization as a tax shelter and is looking for someone to oversee who receives the donations as well as over see the projects that the money is paying for. He offered me a job.
Call it God. Call it the universe. Call it an exitential crisis but lately I have been having long conversations with God/ the universe/ my own soul. I have been careful to identify my blessings (friends, family, James, the roof over my head, and food in my cupboards) but I have also asked for guidance. Without fail, God delivered. First it gave me the wake up call that I needed but also gave me a conversation with a religious man about doing what is right.
Talking to my own personal Clarence yesterday, I realized that I would rather be doing something that brought me joy or at the very least a sense of purpose. I want a job that makes me want to get out of bed in the morning. I accept that there are good days and bad days with anything in life but I would like the good to start outweighing the bad. I want to leave this earth having contributed something even if my name is never known. I want to leave this earth better than I entered it.
As to who/what/where/why/how that actually might be? I haven't decided yet. I do know I will use the next 30 days to work on an exit strategy and apply to every single job that appeals to me in even the slightest way. Maybe I will even take Clarence up on his offer.
But you know what? The options are unlimited. The cycles of the washing machine are preprogramed but only the clothes inside decide how they will fall.
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