I am in the midst of a lengthy process. I am realizing that I will likely be in this process until I die. (Either prematurely or because the career path I have chosen is rife with instabilities and temporary employment.)
For some reason, I thought that once I had my MFA I’d be REALLY SET, like people would just fall over themselves to give me jobs. Thus far this has not happened, though I do have my post-school life sorted out until August. Then it’s just a big question mark. It looks like this:
Resumes, statements of purpose, project descriptions, image lists, burned disks of my short life’s works….yes, I have all of these things and they’re MULTIPLYING like it’s their official mating season and the survival of the species of boring documents depends on it.
Sometimes I imagine what a funny life I’d lead if I won ALL OF THE THINGS and tried to stretch my time between the locations of my various applications. It would mean that next year, so far, I’d be living simultaneously in northern Maine, southern Nebraska, an island in the Long Island Sound, State College, Pennsylvania, upstate New York and that part of Maryland where I’d get to see Jake’s family all the time. Imagine the commute.
But so far I have gotten none of them– in fact, one on that list is officially checked off, so I’m in that funny period of in between, but it’s all in between I am realizing. To this point, I have never lived anywhere or begun any endeavor without thinking of moving, the next part, the next house, the next dome, the next country or town or city or program. This is emblematic of my age, of course– I will turn twenty-five just before summer– but maybe also of my disposition, and what I want my days to look like.
Jake and I have lived in this Brooklyn apartment since September 2011 which is officially the longest I have lived in any one structure since I left my parents’ home in 2006. The number of dwellings I have occupied in the space between 2006 and 2011 is truly appalling, but I’m good at it now, shedding furniture (all but our gift bed and heirloom table) and changing location. Summer in New York is wonderful, gross, sweaty, but wonderful, and our friends routinely make me actually swoon and kiss them, but it is time for me to leave, at least for a little while.
For the summer, there will be archiving for a museum I admire, and trees and a lake and the beginnings of our little house with its salvaged doors and windows on Grossland. This little house will hold our things, and sometimes us. There will be endeavors out west with our families and then we will fetch our cat and we will be tumbleweeds, but we will always come back to see you, all of you. I’m going to make me lonesome when I go, too.