For the past week, I have spent much of the time going back and forth between wanting to take a full time job (which was offered to me without my asking), wanting to stick to running my own business and relaxing a bit (once this crazy semester ends), and wanting to pack everything up and head someplace entirely new and exciting, starting from scratch and seeing where our careers end up.

I think some people have the idea that the past few months have been relaxing for me. That quitting my full-time job in January and not working from 9 – 5 has somehow been relaxing. This could not be further from the truth. Whatever gave people that impression, I would love to see as well, because the past 3 months have proven to be some of the busiest, most stressful months of my entire adult life. Relaxation is an impossible feat when you have as many as 50 students whining over the cost of photocopies from Kinkos or the price of a portfolio sleeve from Utrecht. I relaxed for one, brief week while in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. And even then we were practicing 3 hours of yoga each day.

But I am not complaining. I am merely trying to sum up the innards of my tumultuous head over the past couple of days.

Do I take a full time, high paying job? OF COURSE! Right? Who wouldn’t? Hell, it’s only a 5 minute WALK from where we live. There is really no good reason to NOT take this job. No one in their right mind would turn this down.

At first glance, this is totally true. I won’t argue.

I have had so many jobs. I know that people say this all the time. But, for real, I have had many jobs. (Just ask scbob!) I have worked for over 12 different design and design-like companies (even if a few of them were only for a week’s time) since graduating from college 7 years ago. I have not stayed one place longer than 1.5 years. I either get bored and leave in search of something new and more exciting. And if that doesn’t happen right away, someone eventually comes along, seemingly out of nowhere, offering me another position elsewhere. They dangle more money in front of me, and better (sometimes false) promise. While I don’t think any one office I have left is in the habit of hating me upon my leaving, there are a few places who would not hire me back. I know this is true. They know that at one point I might become bored and move on again. To be honest, I’m not sure I’ll ever shake my antsy. Ever.

So do I take this job knowing how I am? How I have been? Knowing that I could easily decide that this is not for me in a month or two?

Here’s the other hard part. I’m not ready to give up just yet and by “give up” I mean settle. I’m 30 years old and I keep thinking to myself,

I don’t want to stay here forever. I don’t want to buy a house and one day raise a family here in D.C. I wanted to live other places. Am I ready for this sort of a commitment?

(Who knew that marrying someone would have been easier to do over the taking of a job. I never thought twice about marrying Toby).

So here I sit. Today was deemed the day where I had to fax back that piece of paper saying I DO! Or NO WAY! Last night I sat there hovering over it, pen in hand, trying to figure out what it is I should do. I read it over and over again, looking at the vacation package, the 401 K, the benefits of having my uterus explored for a mere 10 buck co-pay, and I thought to myself,

You’re not entering the fucking military, Michele.

Sign.

Date.

So that’s that. I start work (again) on the 28th of April. I’m an “Art Director” now. That’s my title. If only it were that easy to apply the word “Director” to one’s own life. As it stands, I really need to hire a life-advisor to assist me. Because in one year from now, I see us in an entirely different state (or District), working entirely different jobs.

But who is arrogant enough to ignore friends Chance and Promise? And besides, I have always let Life decide for me. My life doesn’t trust Me to make its decisions anymore.

(Now I can pay for the breast augmentation I have wanted to have done).