Lost in the Cornfields... Lonely for the City

I graduated.

I'm done.

And I don't have a job.

Granted, my job search suffered as my externship wrapped up. Working 10-12 hour days isn't exactly conducive to interviewing, but it still wasn't fun to tell everyone, "Nope! No idea what I'm doing!" when my compatriots had their lives perfectly mapped out.

This week I've interviewed for multiple jobs and applied for even more.

I'm not excited.

I was determine to leave this little town, the surrounding cornfields, and the complete lack of whole foods grocery stores. I am not a country girl. I'm scared of chickens, I love to wear heals, and I've always had a fascination with designer couture. I've applied for probably seventy-five jobs out of state in prominent cities. Haven't heard from a one of them. I applied for four jobs in state. Every single one has called me back, conducted interviews, and begun preliminary salary negotiations. Apparently I'm staying in the cornfields.

I don't want to do this. I never wanted to do this. My siblings are flying to the four corners of the globe, and I'm staying here. I've had nightmares of vacationing at age 32 with my mom, dad, and Julie-Bop. Just us. Everyone else out living their lives, and I'm just excited that Walmart is finally carrying organic milk.

What if I never click my heals along the New York sidewalk, apartment shop on the Magnificent Mile, or learn how to surf the sand-flecked waves of the Golden State? What if I stay in the cornfields forever?



A little, practical voice in the back of my head tells me that I can change jobs, I can move later, I can switch career paths. But right now the road stretches before me with no exciting bends.

One long, flat, Indiana road.

This gray-blue mood is probably the result of too many late nights, rejection letters, and the passing of my unconditional cheerleader (I love you, Grandma!). I understand that God will teach me many things. I love sunrises over those emerald fields. I delight in cuddles with Julie and coffee with my mom. I see the good things here... But right now I'm just a little lost, a little blue, and a little bruised and tender. My plan didn't pan out, and now I have to accept God's (much better) plan. That's a lot harder than it sounds...

Especially when I'm surrounded by cornfields.