Welcom to My Future

I've been waiting for an event, novel, movie, experience, thought, or the perfect arrangement of the stars to write here again.  None of that happened, although I have been reading some great novels, most recently I finished The Amazing Adventures of Kavelier and Clay by Micheal Chabon and enjoyed it a great deal.  Currently I'm reading David Mitchell's first novel, Ghostwritten, and it is an engaging, compelling, read.  On deck is Tinkers by Paul Harding and then I'm not sure what is after that, any suggestions?  But my reading list is not the reason I've sat down here this morning. 

Last year I turned 30, leaving the 20's behind me was at once the painful departure of the perception of youth and the relief to finally be 30.  A relief I'm not sure if I can explain entirely except to say that turning 30 seems to have fit and make since to me.  I was ready for that transition.  I don't want to make to big a deal of it, because its not, really, but next week I will turn 31 and make the final step into my 30's, into permanent adulthood.  Another year doesn't bother me, it won't change who I am in any measure.  As long as I'm riding my mt. bike, staying fit age is not a worry.  As it was in the run up to turning 30, I am once again struggling to find work, provide for my family, and define my identity.

To be constantly looking for work, in an economy that is as close to a black whole as I will ever, most likely, come, is an exercise in continuing futility and shame.  It comes at a time when, I feel, I should have my proverbial shit together and be locked in the budding beginnings of a career.  Yet I have been cut loose from the only profession I know (carpentry) and left high and dry by a company I expected a great deal more from -- more on so many levels.  This is how I usher in my 30's, struggling to find my place in a world that seems to be crumbling around me.  But for the grace of God and the love of my family I am propped up, given strength, and find something in the tank to go into the day with my head up looking for work.

So, next week I will turn 31, face another spring of unemployment, and work hard at writing, as I've been doing this winter.  When I rise from the ashes and wreckage of being unemployed I will be a different than I was -- older and debatable wiser.  So, welcome 31, welcome to the chaos and calamity and struggle, welcome to my life, my family, and my future.