Imagine that

My life and my emotions are like a giant wave, easily cascading from giant swells to the murkiest bottoms in an instant. One day, I can be bawling my eyes out over the misery of my not-at-all miserable life. The next, I can be praying aloud while driving down the highway, thanking Jesus for beautiful life he's given me.

I don't really understand it. Believe me, I've tried. I've had my hormones checked out. I've been to therapy. I've posted motivational notes around my apartment to remind me to count my blessings. Nothing really works, unfortunately.

I'm finally realizing that it may be situational. I'm a creative, emotional, perfectionist, loving kind of person. While I don't need glitter and rainbows all the time, the fact that I dislike my job (where I spend the majority of my time) wears me down. It makes me irritable and miserable and though I'm looking like a fiend, I have had trouble believing that I'll be able to escape.

Until this week.

It's a great story...

I started freelancing a few months ago for a local magazine. During my interview, I was told that my work may be able to expand someday because the publisher is starting a group of related magazines in the nearby communities.

Yeah, right, I thought. I realize that makes me sound like the world's biggest pessimist, but whatever. I didn't believe her.

Until this week.

She calls me to give me my upcoming assignments and tells me that she's looking to hire a fulltime staff writer in the next year.

Wha????


Can you say ecstatic?

I'm cautiously optimistic about the opportunity. I understand that ish happens and it might not work out. Then, again, it just might.

I might be able to write fulltime for a living. Never mind that I'll probably have to get a job as a waitress or barista to make the ends meet. I don't care at all.

I can't imagine living off my writing. I can't imagine all the doors it will open up for me to pursue other writing opportunities, expand my  blog, become a Zumba fitness instructor. I can't imagine taking my laptop to Starbucks on my own damn time and working on my writing. I can't imagine being able to work late into the night on something that actually matters to me.

It gives me chills just to think about it.

It makes me happy. 

Imagine that.