The indecisive can never have everything they ever wanted

While I would never claim to be the Word Guy or some sort of mystical word-wielding warrior poet call me Conan the Verbarian or even Bill Simmons, there aren't many times where I am unable to piece together a timely or appropriate introduction or conclusion.  Now they may not be Pulitzer Prize winning components, but they generally flow easily and tie in with the greater thrust of what I'm trying to accomplish in my writing.

Sometimes, those words don't come so easily to me, and I have to dig and dig and dig some more...and usually I'm able to come up with something that might not be structurally beautiful but is at least functional.

I call those ones "Steve"

And then, once in a great, great while, I simply can't think of what the heck to say and I have to fudge something.  Like I am now.  So then I have to apologize for the long-winded nothingness- I just couldn't figure out how to start off what I wanted to say (other than just coming right out and saying it...but how boring is that?).

Yesterday, I was formally offered a social work position at a social work agency.  Yesterday, I formally accepted said position.  Today, I started to process what that change is going to mean in our lives a little bit.  Today...I'm just chock full of all sorts of emotions.

I wrote last week about my mixed feelings- and they're still there.  Probably will be for awhile.  To be clear- I'm very excited about my new position.  It pays more.  Full-time employment throughout the summer.  A professional position in my field- that long anticipated, oft-bemoaned, first foot in the door, a notch in the belt for future stability and security.  Stability and security.  We aren't there yet, but after seven years of scratching and clawing (and being scratched and clawed) to make a living, I've finally landed a job that should carry me upwards and onwards wherever life may take us.

But this is also one of those moments where you realize when you have some pretty green grass right where you are, and how sometimes, that patch of green grass is maybe everything you ever wanted also, the grass is metaphorical.  Real grass is sort of boring.  These last nine months were so tremendous.  Yeah, there were ups and downs and when you're leaving a job it's probably a lot easier to wax nostalgic about the good times/forget about the bad- but when you're an aide (or a direct care worker or something like that), those bad times can (and often do) serve to forge solid, airtight bonds of friendship.  You're in the trenches with these people, wading through the muck and mire and mucus and...well, it doesn't pay the bills- but you can't buy it with money either.  I'm going to miss my FSPeeps.  I'm going to miss all of the wonderful human beings that roam the halls of 401 North Sixth Street.  Not everybody gets to love their job, but these past few months I got to live that out, and it makes me sad that I can only take it with me in a non-corporeal sense. 

Next week I'll be taking that first step into the world of post-college professionalism.  It's simultaneously frightening and exhilarating, and many shades in between.  I don't know what the next steps will be, or where they will land.  But I do know that those steps will bear shoe prints emblazoned with an 'SK' rocket ship.

Man, there is so much I want to say, and so few ways that I'm coming up with to say it.  So this is what I got- thanks for the memories, Sandy Knoll.  I miss you already.

This is the part where I'd have a nice, hopefully witty conclusion that referenced my introduction and hit on several of the themes contained within the body of my work.  Again, words are failing me.  Thanks a lot, words.

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