what’s next?

That’s the burning question in my mind these days; one I really would like to know the answer to. Every time I think I have it figured out, it goes — well, if not wrong, differently than I intended.
I heard this stupid song on the radio the other day: “Jenny’s got a job, a cat named Jake, 31 candles on her birthday cake, next year. Thought by now she’d have a man, two car seats and a minivan. But it still ain’t here.” It depressed me.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not crying in my beer because I’m not married with kids. But the sentiment hits home. If you’d told me 20 years ago that I’d be 35, unmarried with no kids, I wouldn’t have believed it – because isn’t that what girls do? And that leads to the question — if not that, then what?
My life is fine. Good job, good friends, dates when I want them, time to myself when I want it — but I’m starting to wonder, what’s next? I feel like I’ve maybe ridden this chapter out, but I don’t know where the next one will start or how to start it. It kind of scares me. Are we supposed to consciously control our lives, making decisions on where to go and what to do? And what happens when you don’t know the answers?
All I want right now is some clue, some idea, about what I should do next. I can’t ask for a sign from god, since I’m not a big believer. Tea leaves? Tarot cards? Maybe I should eat alphabet soup and the answer will be spelled out for me. Or I could buy some of those refrigerator magnets and see if they magically arrange themselves into some sort of answer to life’s questions — but there’s never enough letters in those packs; you always end up trying to make a “T” out of two “l”s or something.
Maybe I’ll just have to figure it out for myself. That’s kinda scary, and a bit dangerous — but I guess that’s life. I’ll let you know what I find out.


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