Lifetimes can be boiled down to moments like this one: sitting around, bored, doing absolutely nothing at all. It is what broken dreams are made of; and as I sit here, in this timelessness, I yawn. I yawn for my generation, for those who have come before me, and for those who will take these reigns year from now.
Jordan sits on the sofa across from me, her instrument in hand; a guitar, personalized to fit both her physical and metaphysical attributes. She sings as she plays covers of songs that bore witness to the recent events of her life; lyrics and melodies sewn together, in a warm blanket of familiarity. As she recreates the songs, she seems to be recreating the emotion of her past; squeezing out the last drops of feelings from those memories, so she will no longer need to carry them with her. She is comforted, and I am brought comfort as well; to listen to my friend sing her heart out, in golden tones.
As she sings, I type up lists; first, neatly organizing them in the digital realm, then laying them down on paper with a pen - something more real. I make lists of questions and thoughts for the new assignments I've been given for work.
Assignment #1: Unemployment for College Graduates - How it is difficult for students to pursue careers in their fields, one that pay a living wage, in this economy. How many students graduate to find themselves working the same jobs they have before school: Best Buy, Barnes & Noble, and McDonalds. I need to develop this story, but I will be seeking the thoughts and input of current students, people in the career-services department, as well as college grads.
Assignment #2: Kite Fest - A fun day of Kites and other festivities! I think! Ok, so I am not totally sure of what Kite Fest will entail, but it's definitely a fluff piece. It's a little sweetener, and I find no shame in covering that.
So while one story may have more gravity, I do believe that the goal is about effort; that whatever it is you are doing, do it the best way possible. And so I will make Kite Fest the most exciting, playful package possible; even if it doesn't change lives or stir souls.
I grow tired and restless as I write, and my eyes itch with the desire to sleep. So I close the screen of my laptop and wrap my cord, and Jordan begins to close up shop, as well. And like a father, and as the patriarch of our household, I make the rounds; shutting off lights and locking doors, making sure that we all rest soundly. Jordan dashes up the stairs, her footsteps heavy; and as I follow behind, in her echo, I pass her room. "Good-night," she tells me, and closes her door with a click. And it makes me happy, brings me purpose, as I make my way through the hall; to know that I am the last one out and stirring, like the night-watchman, the shepherd with care for his flock.
