Hey, everybody. Kaleiyah Prose back with another Surprise Saturday post.
Remember all that talk about finding out whether I got that job on JET or not?
Well… funny story.
On March 28, I had just finished writing a letter to myself and dated it for late April to post on this blog. Here’s the letter, in case you’re wondering:
Dear Future Self,
At some point, you will disappoint yourself.
And that’s okay.
Right now, I am where you will have been. I do not know where you will be, and I don’t know where you think that I will be.
And that’s okay.
The unknown has become a funny, fear-inducing thing. People tend to view it like the mouth of a cave — dark, foreboding, damp.
But the fact that we can see all that darkness and can approximate how far it stretches is a testament to our individual lights and how brightly they shine for us.
And for some people, that light will not be bright enough, hot enough, or “fill-in-the-blank” enough. I’m sure you’ve felt it before. I’m sure you’ve gazed at others lights, wishing that yours was as bright, if not brighter, than theirs. I’m sure that others have gazed at your light, wishing that it was brighter or hotter. Or maybe when you’re writing one of your stories, you find that your characters aren’t doing enough, or your conflicts aren’t snappy enough. Or while drawing, your lines aren’t crisp enough. Or while reading, you aren’t reading fast enough.
But I’m here to tell you that out of the seven-billion-plus people that are on this earth, there is only one person that you must be enough for: you.
Never think that you have to be “skinny enough” or “pretty enough” or “smart enough” or “strong enough” for any person that isn’t yourself. Eat right. Exercise. Write. Paint. Compose. Sing. Draw. Do these things with out hesitation because they make you happy first, not because they make someone else happy first.
And I know I’m writing you this letter in a weird, meta way. But if it doesn’t fit in with the grand master plan of “Taking Care of You,” don’t do what I tell you.
To paraphrase the Tao, you already know who you are, and you know what you want.
Listen to her.
Five to ten minutes after I’d finished writing that letter to myself — I kid you not, I get an email from my JET Program coordinator, saying that I’m an ALTERNATE Candidate.
Whether ESP, fate, the universe, or some high power, those two things were timed pretty dang well.
Basically, what it means to be an “ALTERNATE” is that I neither got a “yes” or a “no.” It’s a “maybe.” They probably liked me in the interview, but they do not have any positions open for me at the time. From now until December 2017, this may change. Short-list candidates might decline their positions. Alternate candidates might drop out. And I might take their spot.
To put it more bluntly, it’s like being in college, registering for classes, and you have to put yourself on the wait-list, praying that other people drop out.
I’m not surprised. Part of me knew this process would be a competitive, grueling one. And part of me knew that even the most perfect candidates could be listed as Alternates. Whatever the reasons I was selected as an Alternate candidate, however, are not important.
What is important is what I do right here and right now.
Do I give up my chance at becoming an ALT and move onto other endeavors, or do I buckle down and wait in limbo?
Do I back away from the mouth of the cave, or do I dive in and let my light guide me?
I’ll Be Honest…
I’m feeling lucky.
I want to stay it out.
I’ve got nothing to lose other than time and my sanity.
But sanity is easily recoverable, especially when you have a daily meditation routine 60-days strong (thank you, Headspace!), a daily writing practice, a weekly blog, and clutter to get rid of in your room. In the meantime, though, I’ll look at submitting short fiction to more places and look for a local part-time job to get more experience and to keep me level.
Anyway, that’s it from me. Yes, I know I posted this on April Fools’ Day, but I assure you. This post is no joke.
Stay tuned, folks. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.