I saw the last episode of “Roseanne” last night. I have seen it once before. When I was living with J. If you have ever seen it, I think it totally makes up for their winning the lottery and the cheesiness that followed, but I fell asleep, even having known already what the finale actually was, feeling deceived. I felt that Roseanne was a liar and not because I didn’t understand the plot. It was just…almost too sad to take. (For those of you who never got into this show, I realize that this post may seem a little odd. It was a good show, it was full of dysfunction, but it had meat. And it had heart) In watching it, I felt stripped. I felt raw and betrayed. Much like the way that I have felt losing loved ones. Losing friends. Losing time.

Stupid emotional bullshit, I know, but…heartstrings, man…that’s all I can say. Heartstrings.

I am back in the telephone office today. It feels like I freaking live here. But, I spoke with Boy this morning and it looks like, I will be working 3-11 for the next two weeks. With the oldies who call me “Cricket”…looks like I will be catching up on my reading and/or bringing my iPod. But, hey, it will be nice to actually get some sleep for a change. And then I will go back to 8-5 (in theory).

I have decided that I (again) have no idea what I want to do with my life. Well, you know…deciding to be undecided is a big step. I think that it is better than pretending I want to stay in this field, when I am pretty sure that I don’t. Magically, this realization hit me. I think that the reason that I have liked it so much in the past is that it lets me exhibit to myself and to others my talents and my intelligence. I feel good about that. And I like being the best. So really, anywhere that I felt I could do the job well, or…the best…I would be happy. I just can’t see myself being interested in this forever.

I want to be what my creative writing teacher was to me. I want to make sixteen year olds who feel ignored and unloved and ugly, feel smart and capable and worthy of praise. Because God knows, this world is cruel to them. Not that it is any less cruel to the rest of us. But they are fragile. They are thrown into adulthood much too early, they are expected not to feel things. They are expected to be jaded. And they have no experiences to draw from. And all of these things are looked over by those who are supposed to be protecting them. I want to be a safe haven. I know it isn’t an easy task. And I know that I never come off as someone who gives a shit about kids. But I remember how special I felt when someone told me I was good at something. I remember how much more colorful the world seemed and how much stronger my desire to be a part of it became. And that is when I decided that, one day, I wanted to be better than good. I wanted to be phenomenal.

The moral of the story is, it isn’t enough for me to work in a hospital and see things happen every day and be behind the scenes. I want to do the work myself. I want to make some kid feel the way that I did. I want to do something great.