I feel like I’m stumbling around knowing that sometime mid-summer there’s going to be a big Do-Over Button and I’ll have this great new job - nay, a CAREER — a new apartment. A dog!

Want! to! push! the! button!

…We’re moving to Indianapolis. I needed a scope, a scene.  Also, when your boyfriend intends to continue living with you, he kind of likes to have a plan as to where he will be when the lease is up.  (Turns out, a plan called “Somewhere in America,” is too vague.) Now, all that needs to happen is that we get wonderful, fulfilling jobs, a gorgeous two-bedroom townhome, and a puppy.  That’s it. That’s all that has to happen.

Today, my Resume looked at me and said, “Let’s do dis!”  as I whored it out to any employer to whom I could possibly be of service. I have made calls, and contacted random kids on Facebook, and asked anyone who knows anyone what they do and if they know anyone that needs anyone.  The truth of the matter is, I have every intention of getting a job in my field, a job that I will love.   You know why I got a t-comm degree? Because I love media in all of its forms.  I could see myself being an “ad girl,” being creative, and surrounding myself with people who think big.  Or I would love to do market research, be a media planner or buyer.  I’m working on it.   The whole point of me moving to a larger market is because there are more opportunites for me there.  I love Bloomington, and I’d stay here if it presented everything I needed to realize my full potential.

But I need to move on, and I’m starting to get my ducks in a row.  My ducks are completely A.D.D, but I am beginning to form them in what could, someday, constitute a row, if you squint.