We have a week left. Then we’re unemployed. Some of us are more screwed than others. I think I’m in the “more screwed” category.

I haven’t done anything substantial to locate another job. I’m gonna tell you right away I can’t wait another day, Amanda.

Most of the folks I work with are not the same folks I worked with a year ago. There are probably only 6 people or so who have been there longer than I. I don’t really seem to get along with most people remaining.

There are no good options. Like a guiding light to help me through my darkest hour, lately I’m a prayin’ you’ll always be a standin’ beside me.

Nathan just asked me if I plan to study most of August. I answered, “Or maybe drink.” I really don’t have any good ideas. Job-hunting in August, for sure. The problem is that any job I take is going to make substantially less than Joanna makes now, and Joanna has no ability to get a good job anywhere else in the world. I don’t want her to work in a factory again.

In some ways, I feel like I don’t belong in the sky. Why should I get to sit above everyone else stuck in traffic? Why should I get to avoid the drudgery of pushing paper or the sweat of real labor? Sometimes I think maybe I should get a job turning wrenches or pouring coffee for awhile to put a little perspective on things. Then I remember that I decided to fly planes to avoid pouring coffee.

I’ve started thinking that perhaps I don’t even want the job that I’ve said I want. Maybe I’m not meant to have it. And from what you said, I know you’ve gotten over me, it’ll never be the way it used to be. But if it’s gotta be this way, then don’t worry babe, I can take the news okay.

I’m both excited and mortified about the fact that I have no idea what life will be like week after next. I worry that Joanna will become annoyed with me. In some way, I should be happy that I’m being kicked in the ass and need to do something different, because I might stay here a very long time. But this is the first time I’ve felt any substantial geographic inertia. I don’t want to move. I like it here. Sure, I might like it better somewhere else, but for once, I like it *here*. That’s never happened before. I’ve hated everywhere else. There’s a lot keeping me here, so it’s tempting to say, “Okay, then look for jobs here.” But, there aren’t really any. There are some crappy instructor jobs up in Denver, and I may apply for them. But instructing for half the money and driving in Denver traffic every day does not a happy Berck make. There’s something dark about destiny, there’s something blue about you and me.

There’s instructor jobs in Tulsa.