Friday, April 4, 2014

Life Time: Jobs for the Jobless

It feels odd to be employed, really employed. This is the first full-time job I've ever had in my life, and while I'm grateful to be working, it still feels weird. Never mind I'm in a field I never even knew existed, let alone wanted to be involved in. Never mind I have to live with my parents again just to make ends meet. The weird part is this:

I work night shift. Now, I've worked nights before during my several stints in retail, but never consistently, and never scheduled in such a way that I never saw the other occupants of my house. As of right now I get home after my parents have gone to bed, wake up after they've left for work, and leave before either of them get home. It's like this way-too-big-for-me house is haunted by the most helpful ghosts. Food appears randomly in the cupboards, the trash finds its way to the curb whether I move it or not. It's only on the weekends I remember that, oh yeah, other people have been living here, too. They've been doing all the things. Aren't they kind.

Obviously I'm lucky to have such nice people in my life, willing to shoulder so many of my expenses while I try to get on top of my student loan debt. Not everyone has that. Even so, this new schedule is messing with my brain. There are times when I feel like I'm the only person there is. My work is mostly solitary, followed by a drive home in the middle of the night with no one else on the road. All my drives are silent thanks to a short somewhere in my car radio, meaning I can't play it without killing the battery, but silent drives at night are something else. I find myself thinking out loud or making dumb jokes to no one. It's probably a good thing there's no one to see me, since I'm not sure how sane I look any more.

I just spent the last several months unemployed, feeling sorry for myself, and moping around the house. Even so, now that I'm working I feel like my world has gotten smaller. Maybe it's because most of my time now belongs to someone else. It's not like I was doing anything exciting with that time before, but I could have if I wanted to, and that possibility no longer exists. A world of infinite potential has been reduced to one of finite reality, and I think part of me resents giving up my daydreams.

None of this is the job's fault, of course. It's a good job. I've just spent so long getting by without one that's it's hitting me quite hard.

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