"...I found an egg with a dollar in it today..."

SO my dear, impatient mother has given me a week to figure out my life plan. Today is day two. Quite a thing to accomplish in a five-day-alloted amount of time. Apparently she doesn't think my minimum wage paying, cushy fruit shop job is cutting it...and she may think it is embarrassing.

I agree with her.

The thing is, I can't see myself doing anything. At all. It's really discouraging. I am afraid of picking a career path because then I feel like I would be locked down (trapped) doing the same thing everyday forever until I retire or die. No thanks.
In my talks with people, I have found that this is a very common fear and concern. Most people, even successful adults are still unsure of what they want to be when they "grow up". While this is comforting for some, it is not comforting for me. I want a goal and I want it to be the right one. I don't want to waste time on the wrong one. So which one! I have five more days to decide!

Sigh.

I am aware that I am making this decision a lot more difficult than it needs to be and in turn putting a lot of unnecessary pressure on myself. (That's what I hear anyway.) So dear, sweet, impatient mother: you need not leave a comment or call me later telling me so. (unless you absolutely feel the motherly need.)

She will. *tired face*

SO this may very well be the reason I am dipping fruit into chocolate everyday while seeming to be outwardly content. It is a way for me to put off getting a real job. I can work my fruit job everyday because it is temporary and everyone knows that. They don't associate the job with me and (to me) that makes my time wasting okay.

So what do you do when you can't see yourself doing ANYTHING and you have five days to decide your life plan for your dear, sweet, impatient mother? You ask the people who know you the best what they see you doing. Surely my family and friends will have some helpful ideas for me.

Mason and I have had a beach day planned for a week so I will use the travel time and sun-soaking time there to my advantage. I will have a serious conversation with him about what I should do with myself. After all, he knows me the best. (Apart from my dear, sweet, impatient mother.)He will have helpful ideas for me.

I'm excited about beach-day-with-Mason 2010 and I want to get the fun part of the day started as soon as possible. I'm not driving so I'll start drinking. At 10:30. (The best way to get the day started) The alcohol will open my creative mind and allow ideas to flow! Or something... I have me a Mike's Harder Lemonade. It's just like Mike's Hard Lemonade. Only Harder. *winky face*

I tell Mason that my dear mother has given me a week to figure out my life's plan and he is going to help me. He agrees because he is in the car with no way to escape. He really doesn't have to do much, just sit there, drive, and sort of listen while I drone on and on about how I feel like a wasteful shell of a human. He is good at that. One of the many reasons he is my Mason.

So I go on and on. I talk about where I want to live because that is close to talking about what I want my career to be.
Not really.
I talk about funny random things I notice on the roads as we drive... because that is sort of the same as talking about me getting a job.
Not really.
I talk about the garlic tattoo that I want but am unsure about because that is really close to talking about working.
sigh.
I talk about blah blah blah and this and that and I am no closer to knowing anything more than what I didn't know at the beginning of my attempt at a conversation attempt.

My topics of conversation are becoming more sporadic and my ideas are getting more random. Hm. The Mike's Harder Lemonade might be a tad bit harder than I anticipated. I haven't even finished half of the giant can yet and I already feel like dancing the soldja boy across the sand.

"I wanna study dreams! What do you think about that? Does that sound like me?"

Mason looks out the window. I guess he doesn't know I am talking to him. I guess he thinks I am talking to the other not so interested person who is NOT IN THE CAR. I'll ask again.

He says, "Okay, I can see that. I can tell your'e definitely interested in dreams."

Woo! Confirmation! This serious conversation of ours has been beneficial!
Very minimally beneficial...but Mike's Lemonade and I think we have made tremendous progress.

"Yeah! I"ll have a dream clinic or something and do dream therapy and tell people what's going on with their subconscious!"

Mason gives me an "Okay" then I start thinking about what a dumb idea that is. Yeah...it's really dumb. Scratch that idea. I've changed my mind. Now I want to own my own coffee shop again. I've brought this idea up to him before, but I bring it up again because its appropriate.

"What about me owning a coffee shop only I serve alcoholic coffee drinks!? Irish coffees, coffee martinis...regular coffee and stuff. Wouldn't that be fun? I would call it The CoffeeSot...like Coffee Pot...get it?! ahahaha isn't that cute?! I think it's cute."

He asks,"What is sot?"

"A sot is a drunk person."

"Oh. ok. Yeah that's cute."

sigh.

I don't want to talk about careers anymore for a while. That ten minute burst of two ideas was exhausting. Mike doesn't want to talk about it anymore either. We are done. No more. Mike and I are discouraged but we ignore our feelings and continue our beach trip where we left off.

Mason, Mike, and I get to the beach and I have to keep one eye closed to focus on Mason and whatever his face is asking me. How is it possible to feel this tipsy?! I haven't even finished one giant can yet. What is going on? ...Such a giant can.

Mason's face is talking. I am still thinking to myself about what I want to be when I grow up. I don't feel like an adult. I don't feel like I am at the point of my juvenile little life to have a career. Do other people with careers laugh at fart noises and drink in the mornings on the way to the beach? Something is just not adding up with me.

We spent a few hours on the beach and got a bit tanned. Four o'clock rolls around and I hadn't even eaten breakfast. No wonder Mike is roundhouse kicking me in the face! I knew there was an explaination. Mason takes me to his favorite restaurant, Carrabba's. I eat bread until I am cured. Mike and I go our separate ways.

Until another beach day, Mike! See you later!

The beach trip continued with random, hilarious, stupid, typical of Samantha and Mason conversation, but during the rare silences I would think about what I wanted to be when I grew up. The beach trip ended with no more ideas from Mason or myself. Nothing realistically helpful anyway... (Hey! Passions is hiring!)

The next morning I wake up earlier than Mason and eat breakfast while thinking about careers. My brain is a barren wasteland and that has nothing to do with being inebriated for the majority of the day yesterday. I am blank. Yet I persevere.

When Mason wakes up we go outside to lay in the sun so get a bit more tanned. It makes us attractive. Or something. I bring my notebook to write down ideas and plans for life. We lay in the sun in silence.

Susan comes out later with her bathing suit on because she wants to try to tan also. Yeah whatever. Freckled skin doesn't tan. Yet she perseveres.

"Hey Susan! We are talking about what I should do with my life, thats why it's so quiet out here. You want to conversate and we can talk about what you see me doing with my life?"

She agrees to and proceeds to lay out on the trampoline.

There is more silence...but this silence is different. This silence is hopeful . This silence is evidence of thought happening. Someone is going to have something constructive and useful for me! I wait for it...minutes go by and the exceptional happens.

Susan breaks the sounds of distant lawnmowers and birds chirping to say, "I found an egg with a dollar in it yesterday."

We had an Easter egg hunt a few days before this and a few eggs had gone unfounded. This is what she was thinking about during what should have been constructive thought time.

I have three more days to have my life plan thought out for my dear, sweet, impatient mother.

sigh.