So. It would seem once again that I'm to settle into a holding pattern until the news of my victorious graduation breaks and I burst forth into that new and exciting chapter of my ongoing narrative. August means new apartment, and new semester, and December means new degree and new options. For now, though, it means no new movement for at least two months, and no major game changers for seven months, and that, dear friends, is terribly depressing.

Endeavor to persevere. That's what Lincoln would say. What cannot be changed must be borne, would be the Duke of Wellington's advice. And my man, Rommel? Sweat saves blood. Do the hard work while you're in a safe and stable position so you won't have to do it when you're stretched to the limit and under pressure from all sides. Having gone through that, I'm eager to avoid it, even if it means living so far beneath my means as to almost nullify any advantage of a job at all.

But, here's the rub. I was never trained for this sort of day in, day out drudgery. My family traveled often, and my Dad's living was made partially from a job but partially from a dynamic flow of sales and projects. I used to long for the stability of a steady job, and now I'm enjoying the lack of headaches that stability entails. But I find that it doesn't well suit my temperament. My job is far below my potential and on a given night I utilize little to no administrative or problem-solving ability, despite my studies and intellectual background. It's a sign of the times that I'm in such a position, and I'm very thankful to not only have a job but one that pays a living wage. With all that being said, though, as I come up on the 8 month mark I find that as my morale on the job slides steadily downward I find it more and more difficult to get out of bed at all.

I'm bound by duty and principle to do the best job I can for as long as I find myself employed, which entails following instructions and completing my assigned tasks. But my tasks range from the mundane to the non-existent, and while monitoring the radio for emergency calls serves a vital purpose, the lack of those calls night in and night out, with no end in sight, is a pitiful waste of my capacity to contribute. There is little elan or panache involved when one is rolling a cart from A to B, or emptying containers, or even handling hazardous chemicals. There was once some scant glamour in recounting my encounters with Hexavalent Chromium and Anhydrous Isopropyline, but any such illusions have given way to the same drab concrete night after night after night. The sunlight extending until 20:30 was a morale boost at first, but now it just means it's too hot to walk my rounds, and it's best to just wait until dark anyway.

To sum up, I can't do anything big until I graduate, and that'll come in December. I'm thankful to have a job, but it's monotonous and tedious, and my capacity to endure it is beginning to show signs of strain. Something has to change, or I'll begin to unravel, and that's not a pleasant thing. Maybe a vacation?