I feel very adrift. It has now been four years since I graduated from university. And in those years I've had two jobs, neither of which related to my degree or even required one. About $200 each month goes toward the repayment of the education. And I will be paying it for years to come.

I am frustrated that I don't have much to show for my reluctant years in higher education. I am mad at myself for the major I chose- though it was, and still is of huge interest- because I cannot make money using it. Sometimes I think about going back to school. Or I wish that I had in 2008. But the thought still makes me sick to my stomach.

Perhaps I need to just take a few classes. Brush up on Microsoft Office or take some photography or video editing classes. Just so I have more substance to my resume than working with dogs.

I need to not work with animals anymore. I want to own one someday. Or at the very least be okay with sharing spaces with them. Right now, I'm simply not there. I like them, but I'm over it. I don't want this to be my life.

I try to think of my job as a means. I can make money and save for a trip. Or work here until I find the perfect job. But it seems to be sucking me in. I make only slightly more each month than my bills, so saving is a very slow process. And I'm burning out. I just want to sit in front of a computer for days on end (not as a job), or wander alone in some vast mountain range. Anything, really, but this.

I realize it's a luxury to be bored. I realize that in perspective, I'm fine. I'm successful in that I have a job, minimal debt, an apartment, a vehicle. I have a family that does still care about me, friends and a boyfriend. I am able to buy things I want rather than only things I need.

But I want more. Not money per se. Just something different. I want to truely live. Not just be.

I wish to no longer be bored or boring. I wish to be a better friend. And I resolve to spend money on only things I really need with only very occasional deviations. I will travel outside of the US this year. It's a promise. Five years since Kenya. Five years too long.

On Sin

My life has changed a lot. I used to spend a lot of time agonizing over how I might be offending God. The importance now is how I can be good to others and also to myself.

I need to redefine what I see as a sin. (This topic was brought up by my boyfriend.) I no longer see masturbation or sex as sins, obviously. Nor cursing or porn, drinking, (some) drugs, and obviously not obeying my parents. I still, of course, think that murder (of any kind- capitol punishment included), lying, cheating, adultery, stealing, assault, vainity, and (some) pride. Surely there are others.

I like to quote the book Silence by Shusaku Endo. "Sin is not what it is usually thought to be; it is not to steal and tell lies. Sin is for one man to walk brutally over the life of another and to be quite oblivious of the wounds he has left behind." So I shall work harder not to talk poorly about people who are not around to defend themselves. Or at all. And I try to think through my actions and how they affect others.

I don't want to be selfish, but I also know that there are some things I just must do regardless of what others think. The important part is considering them. As I did before I changed my name. I asked my parents if they wanted to have input. They didn't. I changed it without them.

I also think it is a sin to withhold things from people in need. That is, I think it is a sin to be rich without sharing. And that may well mean that I'm on the borderline of that sin just because I have some money in savings.

Basically, I desire to be a good person without agonizing over any sort of eternal damnation. I just want to been seen in a positive light by those around me and perhaps even more importantly, by myself.

I've posted a bit over here that you may find interesting.

I am ashamed. Of myself. Of society. I'd like to blame society for the shame I feel in myself. You see, my neighborhood is close enough to downtown that it has a fair-sized population of homeless people. And I avoid them in every way. I see them bedding down on the thrown out furniture in the alley, and I don't take that shortcut. I see them with signs on the corners and I look straight ahead. I'm ashamed because I do have some money. I have food. I have shelter. But I cannot help them out. Even if I were to share what I have with one today ,and another tomorrow, they'd still be out there. I'd only be helping minimally. If I knew it would help solve the entire problem, I'd give my entire savings (not very much, currently) and live on the streets myself. But I know that it won't help. And so, instead, I do nothing. And I am ashamed.

I follow several bloggers who update daily. And I used to do that - sort of- on my transition blog. I kept at it for a whole year even, only skipping a few days. But that was minimal writing and not creative writing.

I'd of course like to write more. And I have heaps of excuses as to why I do not. The thing is, I probably couldn't keep it up. I am not prolific (anymore). And I don't want to kid myself or anyone else.

That said, I am going to try to write and post more. Again.

I think I may need to do themes or take suggestions or do some active research. Anyhow, I do yearn to write, so write I shall.

I've been thinking a lot about writing lately. I follow a couple of blogs on the subject, and I've even talked about it to a few people. Someone random at work asked me what my hobbies were and I mentioned writing. And he said that he used to like to write, in high school. And it got me thinking: so did I. And I still do, but I'm not nearly as prolific as when I was in school (high school and university). And now I'm so distracted by the wonders of the internet: facebook, the sims social, tumblr, youtube, ebay, etc. And I work 80 hours a week and I want to spend time with my boyfriend and with my roommate and with my other sparse friends. And that leaves me no real time to write. And I suffer for it. In my head. Occasionally I write in my notebook and occasionally I post those writings here. And occasionally I update my angst-ridden emotional/poetry blog from my phone. Beyond that I'm only a wannabe.

Besides the fact that I've been sick a lot/ or incurred a lot of medical fees this winter, I am unbelieveably happy.

I don’t generally make specific New Year’s reloutions, but I do always have things I’m striving to accomplish, and January first is as good a start date as any.

I want to be able to see my abs. I don’t care if there is a six pack or just flat, but I want to see them. To do this, I am going to stop eating sweets alltogether. Seriously. And I am going to do several sets of crunches and other core workouts each day. When it’s warm enough out not to freeze my lungs, I’ll begin to run in the evenings again in order to shed the beer gut.

I want to write something. Not just a blurb or bit of expostion, but a short story or even the outline of a novel. It needs to have a begining and an end and a nice plot to follow.

I want to read more and be on the internet less.

I want to spend more time with my friends. I’ve been really bad at this lately. I rarely even see my roommate. This will change.

I want to be outside more. On my days off I want to be hiking in the mountains or at least walking around town. Not inside.

I want to find a new job.

I want to find a place to volunteer that better suits my calling in life. (Whatever that is.)

Families are odd. They're the ones that are supposed to know you best and vice versa. They're the ones that are supposed to stick with you and really care. They're also the ones I have tense and awkward forced conversations with on holidays.

I know my parents love me. My mom even sent me holiday candies. My dad refuses to let me pay for my cell phone. They try to understand me. They do not disown me.

They just refuse to learn about my life. They wish to remember me and not know me as I am.

It makes me a bit sad.

thoughts on religion

I am afraid of religion. Not in general, just as it pertains to me. The reaction I have at the thought returning to religion is much like the reaction I have at the thought of returning to school. I'm not entirely sure where this feeling came from. I don't think it's always been there. For quite awhile after I came out as some shade of queer, I tried to rectify my faith with what I believed about myself. I still believe this is possible, just not for me.

I certainly do believe in God. I just don't believe in organized religion I guess. It seems to get it wrong time and time again. I understand the structure and I remember how good it felt to be a part of that club. But I can do without the guilt, thanks. And I don't enjoy the exclusivity anymore.

I don't like to try to narrow God into a definition. From what I've experienced, perhaps He's benevolent. But there is also evidence that He's a bit spiteful and vengeful and even cruel. But then again, I think that's just humanity. And life.

Anyhow, I am allergic to religion and furthering my education in the traditional manner.

God is no longer back-burner as I wrote some years ago. He's basically cooling off in that little drawer under the stove.