Yakima is not my
destination.
I’m going to repeat
this to myself for the next two years, as I remain committed to my plan to pick
up and move to South America by winter of 2014. That will be three-and-a-half
years after coming to Yakima, my absolute latest deadline. With luck, I’ll be
gone months before that.
This is nothing
against Yakima. I’m thankful for the opportunities I’ve gotten here. Although
this started as a yearlong internship, within four months, it became a
full-time, no-cutoff-point grown-up job. I had a permanent (as permanent as I
wanted) job in my field within 10 months of graduating college, and I had
already been employed in my field during those 10 months.
That is extraordinary
in this economy and in the current climate among newspapers. Everywhere, people
are saying that newspapers are dying, that jobs are vanishing; seasoned
reporters are looking for work just as much as fresh-faced recent grads. So I
am very, very fortunate to have gotten a job here so quickly.
And it’s been a good
job. I’ve been able to settle into a beat; learned that I’m good at building
sources; picked up a lot of useful information about health care, education,
politics, etc. It pays well – well enough for a single girl with a car payment,
at least – and has allowed me to live comfortably, even extravagantly.
And I’ve loved Yakima.
This place felt more like home faster than anywhere else I’ve lived since I
left my parents’ house for college – more so than Seattle, or Cadiz, or Port
Townsend, or Santiago, or Olympia. And I loved all those places, too, and made
great friendships there and had great adventures. I have made a life no matter
where I live. Plus, I get to go climbing every week and spend time in the
beautiful outdoors all around me. That’s nothing to scoff at.
So yes – I have
nothing against Yakima or what it’s meant for me. And in 10 or 15 years, I
might be able to see myself settling down here and raising a family (if such
things are in the cards).
But this is not the
best I can do. This is a stepping stone; a necessary one, to be sure, and one I
am grateful for and that I do not deride. But it’s a starter job, a
first-job-out-of-college, a temporary stop as I work my way into the places I
want to be.
I want to be in South
America. After that I want to be in the Middle East, then maybe China or
Southeast Asia. I want to go everywhere, learn everything. I want to cover a
war, getting the truth out to the world when everyone around me is determined
to silence the media. I want to cover global politics, high finance, revolutions,
growing economies. I want to write about things that matter, and I want to see
the world change with my own eyes. I want my work to be a part of and an engine
for that change.
I do not want to
become so comfortable in Yakima that I’m not brave enough to take that leap.
This is a stepping stone; I want to be able to jump into the rushing river and
see where it takes me. I don’t want to pause indefinitely in the safety of that
midway point, afraid of what will happen if I fail.
I could fail. That is
a terrifying reality. I haven’t failed yet, so maybe I’m more optimistic than I
should be; too naïve for my own good. Or maybe that idealism will help shield
me from the kind of fear that could stop me from reaching my goals. But truly,
I could fail. I could move somewhere and not find a job, or I could find a job
and then get caught in layoffs, or I could find a job and then end up so beyond
my depth that they fire me for incompetence. (Shudder. Not if I can help it.)
But I want to try. I
want to push myself. That fear of failure is a motivator unlike any other. And
I want to pursue the life I have always envisioned for myself.
If that means taking
business courses and reading the Wall
Street Journal every day so I can work for Reuters, bring it on. If it means
taking language classes so I can speak Arabic and move to Afghanistan, I’m up
for the challenge.
This is why I’m
getting the tattoo. The first one, Courage,
dear heart, was in response to those previous moves I’ve made. Every one of
them was terrifying; every one of them started with me doubting my ability to
succeed. But, just as in Dawn Treader, I realized “that there was nothing to be
afraid of, and there never had been.” It would be prudent now to remember that
my success, far from coming from my own steam, is really because God has been
with me every step of the way. (Astonishing how easily I neglect that, isn’t
it?) I have never gone on alone; even if I had failed, he would have been
there.
And now, in response
to the comfortable stagnation I already feel setting in, I’m going to get my
new tattoo: “Life is either a daring
adventure or nothing.” I will not let my life be nothing. I will not end up
decades from now regretting that I didn’t dare to step out and take a chance.
So, Yakima: I’m
counting down. Let’s see. The bosses
wanted a three-year commitment; I’ve been here 15 months and I have 21 left. Starting
at the beginning of 2014, I will start actively looking for and applying for jobs
overseas, and even if I find nothing, I will leave here by the end of that
year. I will not let myself stay here.
Not for anything. Not
for anyone. Not for fear of failure or money or the job market or anything. Not
for a guy. Never for a guy. Not even a hypothetically perfect one with dark
hair and crazy blue eyes who’s a climber and loves kids and makes my
heart melt with just a smile. Never! This is my life, my dream, and I’m going
after it.
No excuses.
Love always,
molly
