Indiana Jones Training Camp

When did I become so stereotypical? I just want to work in a coffee shop that sells books and provides high speed internet. Maybe we’d have a shop-cat. It would be wonderful. We’d buy the best Sumatra blend. French roast too, because apparently people are into that burnt taste. 

Nothing comes easy in the land of dial-up internet and cows. Dad’s Ford F-150 breaks down on me a lot and I miss my stratus. I scraped together 12 years of Christmas money that I’ve never spent because I’ve always envisioned myself 22 and poor. I’m desperately looking forward to a job offer in Knoxville so that I can pay rent on a house that I’m not living in.

Tonight is hard. I’m packing an emergency suitcase because I don’t know if I will need to drive my dad to the emergency room or not. He can’t keep anything down, which is bad within itself but if he can’t hold down his transplant medication then we’ll have to grab the suitcase and go. 

I miss Chris, and internet. I miss so many things. Like streetlights, freight trains, and coffee drinks that I didn’t make myself.(Although I mist say that I’m fantastic at it.) I just want stability. And I want to be able to provide it for myself. Reading Game of Thrones is keeping me sane.         

Today Chris and I had our 3 year anniversary and it’s always been bittersweet because it’s the day before the university makes us move out and go back home. He’s stayed in Knoxville every summer for three year though. Even the year when he didn’t really know me as anything other than the girl who was shy and seemed older than she was. The girl who grabbed his hand at a Passion-Pit concert and played Uno with him once on the steps of the Nashville Parthenon.  

I’m really glad he stayed. I’m really glad that we love each other. I should man up and give him the poem I wrote him. He likes things like that anyway. 

I will never miss university housing. Ever.

So I’ve been looking for a job since January. And I’m still standing here, jobless.