Blogjune: Saguaros and Successes (or the lack thereof)

It’s 4:20am, and before you make a joke about that hour, let me say that presently, I’m more sober than a church. I’ve waited hours for the thoughts in my head to stop careening, but they’re no closer to settling down than Bubba is (that is to say, not at all). I feel like a saguaro looks — ill-tempered and prickly. It’s only been 24 hours, but I’m rooted here, unmovable, no closer to sleep than I was at noon on Sunday.

I’ve had a post about stepping off the ambition escalator sitting in my drafts for months now. Until a few days ago, I thought I’d finally have reason to publish it. However, events didn’t pan out the way I wanted them to, and I am once again feeling helpless and hopeless. Other library-related folks tell me they appreciate what I bring to the profession, or how I’ve helped them see things from a unique perspective. I’m grateful that they say these things to me, even though down deep I don’t believe them. So, here I sit with a fresh wound of rejection that is just starting to scab over, knowing that if I put myself out there again, it’ll be the equivalent of picking at that scab until it becomes infected. My ego feels as sore as this wound.

The little hater that lives in me tells me I should abandon any hope of finding fulfillment in my career, and that to think I could be anything other than ordinary is laughable. But I can’t quite let go of this dream I have in my head of truly making a difference in this world and being paid handsomely for it. Yes, capitalism is a curse, but this is the world we’re living in, and I really want to kiss my girlfriend under a rose-gold sunset while the warm ocean laps at our ankles.