Journal Entry #40: Trying to figure out my purpose.
I’ve been thinking about the Force lately. I wouldn’t say I’m super in touch with it, but I’ve come to understand that it’s always there. If I quiet my mind and sit in silence, I can sense it, like a humming in my chest. But…I don’t often make the time to meditate.
I elected not to become a Jedi, but I think I have a higher Force sensitivity than most. Especially since my uncle has taught me how to recognize the Force—not to wield its power, but to observe its energy passing through me.
I wonder what it means to be a Force-sensitive non-Jedi. To be a Force-sensitive working a 9-to-5 desk job in the most banal sector of corporate news media. Am I serving some higher purpose in the galaxy, with my restaurant reviews and community event coverage? Is it the Force’s will to assist me in meeting a Friday deadline, or not losing my mind when that one coworker is getting on my nerves?
I think of Luke, rescuing orphans and training them in the way of the Jedi, empowering them and sending them out to bring light into the darkness. I think of my old pal Fannie, one of Luke’s students, who went back to Ryloth to help free women from slavery. It’s no question that their lives’ work hold immense purpose.
My life runs on a never-ending loop. My alarm goes off in the morning, I get up and make caf, drag myself out of the apartment, go to the gym, go to work, come home, scrape some kind of dinner together, look at memes, go to bed, and then do it all over again. And it’s like…what am I even doing? Did my parents fight a war just so I could do…this?
Sometimes I think that, if I took some time to attune myself to the Force, everything would become clear, and even the most mundane of things would come alive with a new sense of meaning and purpose. But somehow, I’m afraid to reach out to the Force. I feel like the Force knows me…knows that I am a son of Skywalker and yet denied the path of the Jedi. And for what? To sit at a desk, churning out low-stakes articles for people to glance at for two seconds before they scroll to “breaking news.” Is there now a hole in the galaxy where I should have been?
Maybe I was supposed to become a Jedi after all, as much as that scares me. Maybe I’ve missed my destiny…
Or maybe there was no destiny written for me in the stars, and the pen lies squarely in my own hand…and I seem to have the worst case of writer’s block, ever.
My mom didn’t want me to move out and go to college. She was worried about Snoke preying on me again if I was separated from the family. If I was going anywhere else, she wanted me to be with Uncle Luke so he could watch over me. But Dad and Luke stood up for me, which surprised me, and reluctantly, Mom let me go. I think part of her was hoping I’d come back home after I finished my degree.
I wish I could prove to my mom that I’ve done it. That I’ve made my way, and that I’m happy with my life. But my life doesn’t feel quite right, somehow, and I’m not really sure what’s missing. I mean, things are okay. But I don’t think life, this grand adventure only experienced once, is supposed to be just okay.
I guess I need to spend some time thinking about this. But, like I said, my life is on a loop and now it’s time to make dinner. One plum-tomato and sardine sandwich and a blue milk protein shake, coming right up.
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You know, reading posts on the Dracula Daily tag about doing the same for Frankenstein next, but consider:
- Daddy Long Legs and Dear Enemy, to watch people get squicked out by stuff that wouldn't surprise anyone in the 1910s, while at the same time being charmed by Jean Webster's prose.
- The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, and it's schröedinger's timeline problem where you either start with Helen's diary and then the emails take like a decade long hiatus until you get to the letters of the framing device OR you get the whole novel in 4 emails.
- Evelina, although that one would be just unendingly repetitive and weird. But that's the evilness of it.
- Little Women, which is not epistolary but consider: you get somewhat regular emails for a year. Then there's a whole 3 years gap. You forget you subscribed. Then you get an email with all the gossip of what's been going on with the family for those years. Then you get irregular, sparse emails for 7 years. Bonus points: they also add Little Men and Jo's Boys. It takes 29 years to finish the saga.
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