Being in my 20s is exciting/frustrating/pretty damn scary.
On one hand, I can do anything: no children, no guy, no job. I don't even have a cat. Or a car.
I can move anymore, apply for any job. I have total freedom.

But freedom is confusing.

Where do I go? What sort of job do I look for?
Should I buy a car? Wait? Maybe I should venture abroad.. ooh, then again, maybe not.

I am a writer. But writers don't make money scratching out stories on a legal pad, dreaming of being interviewed by Matt Lauer on my 1,000,000 copy of my latest printed genius.

I tackled the Internet in search of editorial jobs. I even applied to some. And amazingly, I got interviews with two. Now, playing the waiting game, waiting to hear final decisions (knowing the salaries are inadequate for any half-living creature), I'm getting restless. The office setting is depressing. Khaki pants and button downs are depressing. Even the world "salary" is bleak.

Alternative jobs are in order. So I applied to be an innkeeper. And a cook. And a promotions coordinator for an indie music venue. Why do we limit ourselves to one definition? One goal?
I have a colored resume. Not because I am indecisive and uncommitted, but because I have varied interests and a colorful personality.

Choices and options shouldn't frighten a 20-something. They should empower one.