22

Okay, so I know blogs don't really mean anything in the scheme of things. However, it's nice to pretend to feel needed in a society where technology supersedes most of our efforts to make ourselves meaningful in any way.

Right now, I'm listening to Bob Dylan and thinking of Joan Baez/Bob Dylan's wonderfully complicated relationship.

On an unrelated note, I'm learning what it means to be an unemployed housewife, which is the last place where I thought I would be. Strangely, for the past 22 years, I thought I would do something incredible with my life. So it goes, as Vonnegut would say.

Surprisingly, there isn't much you need to do to sustain a life like mine. You clean, you cook, you think about the dreams you would have at this time and never kept, and then you move on with your day until your husband comes back from work and validates your existence. It's not that complicated.

It is HARD to live in a world (can we all accept that being in the military means you live in an abnormal/alternate world?) where one is an army spouse. I live in the middle of nowhere (which seems to be the general location for the military).

In the middle of nowhere, I've found that I have to come face-to-face with myself, in a sense. I have never had to do that before, because I've been too busy keeping pace with the busy version of myself, who finished grad school at the age of 22.

The thing is, I deserve this month, this year, where I get to "take a look around" and figure out what it is I actually want to do with my life. I deserved it when I went to Kindergarten at the age of four, and I deserved it when I graduated college at the age of twenty. However, does it help whilst dealing with the people significantly (or a year or two older than me) that say I should have my life together?...NOW? No, no it doesn't.

No, I don't have my life together. No, I don't have a job. No, I have no idea what I want.

And, strangely, this blog doesn't have me worried about resentment with myself.

The reason why I feel this way is because I remembered what I said earlier: Life is too short.

Do I hate the job that makes me reconsider all of my former decisions? No. Did I marry someone who has accepted me no matter what for the past five years? Yes.  Have I written anything worthwhile? Yes, and there's more to come.

I didn't win the "greatest achievement award," but I know who I am and what I think I want. I don't have to be an exquisite businessman, but I need to know that I made enough of a difference to help people with their seemingly meaningless lives.

News flash: You do matter. You do exist. And, you do mean something to a meaningless person like me, who thinks, no matter how you screw up, that you do contribute.