A Year

Laid off a year ago.
It was the day after Memorial Day. Now it’s the day after the Memorial Day again.
Not an easy year. Now I’m writing a lot, more than I did working as an editor with some seriously bitchy women. Freelancing these days for just about everyone, or at least that’s the way it feels sometimes. I’m lucky to have some jobs. I’m not so lucky to make so much less money than I did a year ago.
Still not sure how everything will wind up. Like millions of my fellow Americans, I find myself scared when I think about the future, short-term or long-term. I’m willing to change career paths altogether, but wary about picking another line of work. My partner and I were talking this morning about what I should do. Teaching? Something else? When is it too late in life to switch gears in a dramatic way? And when is it more dangerous to stick with what you thought you wanted to do? These are the questions that roll around in my brain.
I don’t want to pick a career path that, like my current field of journalism, is full of people fleeing. And so far I’ve felt that if I’m going to fail anyway, then it might as well be in the field I care about.
Sounds pessimistic, I know.
Some days are that dark. Some are not. I know I am not alone, which comforts me. But it makes it more competitive out there too. My political priorities have changed. I'm a jobs dude now, and even less interested than I used to be in the question of Middle East peace. There are a lot of important issues now about which I give not a damn.
One plus of the past year: I know who my friends are. And I’m exceedingly grateful to them.