Do Not Belong (part 2)

Wow, I'm so proud of all of us. We're facing the realities of not getting the memo, bonding over our shared loss, and--hopefully--moving forward. Right? Ra Ra Ra!

It's been a while since I wrote that initial story. There've been some changes in my life. I've been working at my current job for the last, um...one, two, three, four...nine months. Aren't'cha just proud of me? I'm proud of myself, that's for sure. I actually "quit" about three months in. I felt that, as much as I HATE the cold, I didn't want to work outside all winter long. It IS Montana after all. I worked three days at a motel, hated it, and called where I worked to ask if I could have my job back. They said I couldn't be full-time, but that I could work "on-call." Gratefully I agreed, quit my job at the hotel and went back to the airport job. Turns out, they had a lot of need for an on-call individual. I ended up working almost full-time anyway. It was tough though; one month I worked 16 straight days in a row, 9-11 hours a day. I made a massive chunk of change, but was very exhausted.

However, my persistence paid off. Another one of my co-workers was fired, and I was offered his full-time slot. I've been back full-time out there for the last month.

I've been through a lot out there at my airport job. I've discovered that I have untapped strength, and that I'm more valuable to others than I've given myself credit for.

Sure, sometimes I still feel like I'm missing out on some elusive memo, but on the whole the feeling isn't quite as acute as it has been in the past. I guess I'm kind of a loner anyway. Part of the last year has involved learning to accept that part of myself. I enjoy people, but I don't naturally nurture and create relationships with them. My attitude tends to be that when I and other people happen to spend relatively enjoyable time around one another, great. I like my private time too much to be much of a social butterfly.

My job at the airport is your typical blue-collar type job. I fuel jets, handle rich people's luggage, and empty the ******* on fancy jets. It's great. Well, okay, not great, but it pays okay, and the guys I work with are cool. We don't talk sports (my glaring lack of knowledge of who's playing for what team becomes obvious really quickly), but we talk girls, cars, and girls. It's also pretty consistent work. No surprises. Do what your supposed to, go home, get paid. Reeeeaaaally inspiring.

I want to do more with my life, but I've been looking at this time out at the airport as a time to figure out just what it is that I really want to do with my life. If nothing else, I DO need to save whatever funds I'm gonna need when I move back out of my parents pad, and I need to ensure that I have the tools I need (decent later model car, laptop). I've also recognized the need to get financially stable and learn to be punctual and responsible. When I can rely on myself to take care of those basics then I'll know I'm ready to get out on my own again.

How's it going? Well, I finally got back my full-time job with benefits, I might be getting promoted to supervisor, I've bought a 1993 Acura Integra (and already spent $2000 on repairs--and I'll probably spend another $5000 on making sure it looks and runs virtually perfect), I've purchased a laptop, and I'm about 92% on time. Next I'm gonna improve my punctuality by getting up in the morning with time to get to the gym before work, show up to work early, keep working on getting my car fixed up, and save a butt-load of cash.

While I'm doing the above I'm also giving a lot of thought to where, when, and why. Where do I want to move, when do I want to move, and why would I move? In other words I'm trying to identify my passion(s) and where I'd be happiest pursuing them.

It's not much of a plan, but it's something.

I'm thinking that I'd love--probably more than anything--to be a comedian. Sometimes I can be really funny (honestly), though (also honestly) other times I'm one boring guy. It's the difference between a day that I'm "firing on all cylinders" and one when I'm not. The last family reunion I went to I kept an entire table of my younger cousins spellbound and in stitches for four hours straight. Keep in mind, they're of the Generation Me (is that what they're calling it?). The generation that thinks MTV requires too much attention; the generation that thinks that YouTube is God. I don't even remember what I talked about, or how I said it, but I just remember being begged to do a stand-up routine that night at the family talent show. I was afraid, unprepared so I only got off the hook last year by promising to do one this year. Well, the reunion is a mere three months away, and I still haven't constructed a routine...the closer it gets the more petrified I get. The more I hear the nagging self-critical Hyde in my head telling me that I can't do it, that I'm not that funny. Maybe I just won't go this year.

Or, maybe I'll approach it in a mature manner (go figure): start writing something now, start practicing on the guys I work with (they're a REALLY tough crowd). We'll see.

It's a start.
liferiot liferiot
26-30, M
May 6, 2007