BLOG: Snowy Sunday

The journey forward continues on… eyes on the prize, Betsey… eyes on the prize.

How is life? The same as always. Working in an industry I don’t care for and feel totally burnt out on because there is nothing else available out here on the lone prairie. Exhausted. Miserable. Unhappy and unfulfilled. Steadily working towards graduate school. To put it mildly, life is a total fucking drag.

I feel like a robot when I go to work. Every movement is automatic. Every line is scripted. Everything is boring, so boring. All that matters is the paycheck. The paycheck that barely amounts to nothing on minimum wage. So much for so little. What is the point? Every day I commute an hour and ask myself, “Why?” How can I change things to get where I want to go in life when the thing I want requires the money I don’t have?

Writing is the only thing that keeps me sane in this travesty of a world. That, and shopping the clearance racks at the mall for some really great deals on fashionable clothing items. If only I could figure out a way to combine my two great loves in life for a steady paycheck. Woe is me, woe is me…

I feel like I’m caught up in an endless cycle. I take these jobs to make money, but they never last very long and the amount saved is limited. I always imagined something different for my life. I used to ride the metro into the city on weekends and imagine myself commuting to work. I dressed in blazers and dress pants, high heels and nice skirts. I sat on the patio outside Luna Grill and daydreamed about overlooking Shirlington from the balcony of my high rise. I thought I would have some kind of office-type job for an NGO, which required me to travel around the world regularly.

Then I dropped out of college, moved to South Dakota, and found myself directly confronted it’s the harsh reality of the world instead. Yes, I eventually graduated and traveled extensively, but to what end? Now here I am, rotting my brain with bourbon in a small town in the middle of nowhere, wasting away my potential on a dead-end job at the mall. And for a company accused of large-scale international human rights violations, no less. Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.

I tell myself that all of this means something. I tell myself I was meant to come here, to discover this strange place, to write about the good and bad. I tell myself it was my destiny to come to the Rez, even though it’s cheesy and in poor taste for a white girl from the big city to say. And then… there is my town. My strange little town. My town that I both love and hate with equal passion, that shows me such strange characters and tells me even stranger tales. All of it means something, but what? What?

I like to think this moment in my life is very cinematic. I’m staring out the window overlooking my town as the snow falls outside, reflecting on life as I sip from a mug of hot coffee. Yes, it’s true, things may appear to be a mess, but they can always be turned into a movie, and that’s all that really counts.

As I learned from Paris, someday the dream will become real. All of my travels, for better or for worse, have shown me the dream is real. There is always something to strive for, a new place, a new story, a new goal. One must continue moving forward in life, even when things get dark. So I trudge on alone, through the cold and the wind and the snow, waiting for the sun to come out again.

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