Life After...

Something I've never understood (and I know I've gone on a long rant about this before) is how after high school and after college everyone just assumes there's one path... the one path is "Follow Your Dreams.... as long as that dream is sensible and comes with a 401K".

I can confidently say that working for GS is not my dream. My dream is to work in a library, get my Masters in Library Sciences (MLIS), be married to my best friend and have a happy and loving life with him, and eventually have kids... but only 2 because I do not want to be outnumbered by tiny humans.


But let's be honest for a second.... right now, my dream is to be able to afford my rent, pay my student loans each month, and successfully keep cat litter out of my living room (bonus points if it stays ONLY in the cat box).

My dream is malleable, and that's okay.

I have friends who are following their dreams, doing insanely neat research in other states, joining the military, being missionaries, working in a field they actually have a degree in, starting their families, and doing what they have always set out to do... and I think that's awesome. I think it's stellar that their lives are doing exactly what they wanted them to do.

But, I have to remind myself every time my conversations with them end... I'm happy. For the first time in a solid ten years, I am actually happy. I wake up in the morning, and I love my apartment. My fingers are chewed on by a little monster kitten, and I love it. I pour myself a cup of coffee, and I get to look at the beautiful flowers on my kitchen table. I get dressed and put my badge on, and I drive a stupidly long time to get to work, but my drive is beautiful for the first twenty minutes and I have time to myself to remember that God is truly awesome, and he made the beautiful fields I drive through on my way to Rosemount. And then, I grumble because I get stuck behind a tractor, and I have to remember that the same awesome God made tractors, so I have to slow down to 30 mph and enjoy the beautiful fields just a little bit longer.

Then, I get to Rosemount, and I hit a train, because I ran five minutes later than normal, and I stare at it counting the carts like I have since I learned how to count. I wonder where the train is going, and how long it is going to take before the light changes. But then, I'm on my way again, and I drive through this growing town that I grew up in, and I am amazed. I'm amazed at how quickly the Culvers is coming along, and I'm amazed and thankful that Morning Glory's is still open, because as much as I love Starbucks, Ali makes the best coffee, and there's nothing better than walking in, having the little bells ring, and within seconds without two words he's making your drink, because he remembers that you've been drinking the same thing for the past 6 years.

Then, I keep driving down Highway 3, because even though it's probably faster going a thousand other ways, the views as I drive down McAndrews are nostalgic and remind me of driving down the road in my little black Acura blasting Taylor Swift's first and second CDs with my best friend from the very first day I got my own car all the way until our second year of college, because after those first two years of school, nothing was quite the same.

By the time I get to work and finish watering the plants in my cube, I have fifteen minutes to relax before my day officially starts. And then, I work. I work 8:30 - 5pm, like a "big kid". I work in an office, and I have a cube, and as much as it isn't the job I've always dreamed of, I kind of love it. I love the Culture and the crazy stories I get to hear, and I love the partners I get to work with, and I love that every day I get to learn something new. It's not my "dream job" but it's pretty great. I have a great boss, and I like my coworkers (a little more each day), and at 5pm I start the hour long commute home. 90% of the time, I hate my commute, but by the time I get to County Rd 50, I start to love it again because I drive past farms, and fields, and an Alpaca farm (which fascinates me).

I drive past the County Fair Grounds, and I fall in love with my neighborhood all over again, and then I walk into my tiny apartment and am greeted by my little monster and big poof ball, and I'm in love with having a home that I can call mine. My lovely fiance comes home, and I am reminded how happy I am that I get to spend each evening with him, and it doesn't have to be eventful or crazy. We can sit in the living room and he can play SkyRim, and I can play Sims, and we can just download and chill after our days.

I love my home. I love my job (most days). I love going on dates to the library and checking out books. I love my kitten and cat. I love taking time and planning our wedding nice and slow, because we can enjoy each decision as we make it. I love it.

I may not be moving away to a new state and starting Grad School yet, and who knows exactly what my plans are.. but I am happy. Finally. I am finally happy.

That counts. That's been my dream longer than wanting to be a librarian or marry my best friend, or have an apartment, or be a writer, or anything. I have always dreamed of being happy. And by golly, I'm living it.