Back in Rexburg

I miss Utah. I miss my family. I miss the mountains. I miss hiking. I miss dancing in Provo.

And yet, graduation means that I lose all my friends, and all that is familiar. I lose the opportunity to take more classes, and I lose the hope of finding a husband. I lose the privilage of deciding what to do with my life. I have to decide now, and I don't know what to do. It changes weekly, even daily. I have no direction, and thus, no purpose. I don't know what I'm working towards. I just know that I now have debt hanging over me, and I have to find a job so that I can pay it all off. But I don't even know what jobs are available to me with my limited experience and unattractive resume. I don't even know how to look for a job. I don't know what to do. It's overwhelming. It's daunting. It's bothersome. If I didn't have debt, I would live at home for a while, going dancing every week, and decide what to do. I shouldn't have to know what I want to do with my life when I'm this young. And aren't I supposed to be married and having kids or some nonsense like that, anyway?

I'm stressed. Severely stressed. I need a good dance. Unfortunately, there are no good dances in Rexburg. Just the school dances, with the same crappy DJ who plays the same crappy music, and everyone does the same basic moves, and too few follow the music, and too few are good leads.

I wouldn't be so stressed if I knew I had a job after college. But I don't even know where to start. I hate it. And I can't just work minimum wage; that's not enough to sustain me. I feel like my degree will go to waste, and I'll end up working at an unsatisfactory job that pays much less than I need, forcing me to live at home and having no freedom.

I'm stressed, and sick of waiting for school to start. One and a half more days of doing nothing, and then it begins. But it's always a slow beginning.