The miracle of asking for what you need

It felt a little weird.  The floral wallpaper and Hello Kitty posters still adorned the walls, but all the furniture was different.  The room felt crowded with the three dressers and 42-inch plasma tv that had fit so nicely in my apartment San Francisco.  It was the first time I had moved back home since I moved out to go to college.

I should be grateful.

My New Zealand adventure was over, and I was back in the Bay Area.  Despite the risky move of  putting my job search on hold to travel halfway across the world, I received a job offer for a part-time summer internship.  Things ended up working out.  And fortunately, unlike many of my classmates who also graduated without a job, my parents lived within commutable distance of the job.  Free housing.  I really lucked out.

But this was far from a permanent solution.  The internship was for ten weeks.  I’d still have to find full-time work.  And I also wanted to make sense of the mismatch that my mentor pointed out between what I thought I wanted to do, and what really excited me.

 I can’t stay here.