The Worrier

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When I left New York, my gut was telling me to expect the worst. For the first time in my life I can say I was genuinely happy, but I just knew the moment I stepped onto the plane, everything would head south. No pun intended. Surprisingly, that’s not how things turned out. Barring a few psychotic relatives and old high school friends who aren’t doing anything, don’t plan on doing anything, and could care less about their futures, I actually enjoyed Houston.

Yes, you read that correctly. I enjoyed Houston. It’s never been the city per se; the people around me were the ones who always ruined it for me. Not this time, though. The fun I had in New York trickled down with me to Houston. I was only there for a week, but I can honestly say that week was one of my best in the city. Ever. A few instances of the same old, same old bullshit here and there, but nothing strong enough to deter me from having a good time.

Then word came that I needed to head back to D.C. earlier than I expected. Uh oh…initially anyway. To make a long story short, my first night back in D.C. wasn’t the best. I was beginning to think I was going to slip right back into that same old funk. Two days later, I’m still cool and I’m still bopping around to whatever is blasting from my iPod…or so I’ve been described.

A year from now, whether I finish in May or in the summer, I will be done with Howard. As of now the plan is to take on a 21 credit course load each semester, in addition to being a staff writer for our paper and serving as President of the student chapter of NABJ. Super student? Hardly. I’m almost certain I may buck under pressure. So certain of it that at one point mid-summer I decided that maybe taking on such a heavy load wasn’t such a great idea, going with 16/18 during the school year, and finish the remaining credits in the first summer school session instead. By doing so I would have prolonged my actual graduation ceremony a year; but who cares when walking is more so for your mom anyway, right?

I have maybe a week or two left to rule on my course load. I really want to be out of school. So much I no longer worry about the toll it may all take on me. Let me repeat that: I. Want. Out.

While I do want to get out ASAP, ASAP, I’m petrified of graduating without a job. To go back to the rut I spent years trying to get out of is my biggest fear. Back home w/ the drunk (Pops). Back home w/ the idiots on the corner who kick it with him. Back to the bullshit that goes on in the home. Back to feeling like what’s the point of it all? Just back to not being happy.

My mom once told me I would have a miserable life. Though she’s since apologized for making the comment, the thought still lingers in the back of my mind.

“You will be lucky if you can do for a living what you love to do anyway.”

That, in a nutshell, describes my career goal. I want to write professionally. I want to grow as a writer. I want to be recognized for my work. *Cliché alert* I have things to say I want them to be heard. I want to tell a story, my story, in an effort to help people going through similar struggles. I want to write about things I’m interested in. I want to be compensated for it all.

Easier said than done. I look at my resume and think, “Sure, they’re a lot of names on there, but will this help me get a job?” Everyone tells me not to worry…or at least not worry too much. I can’t help it. Worrying is my thing – especially if I’ve always had a reason to worry, feel me?

I feel like I’m so close, yet so far away.

Where will I be a year from now? I have no idea, but I’m hoping I’m not worrying as much about 2007 as I am about 2006.

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