Just another day in paradise... wait, no... it's only Jersey.

Well, it's the end of another day. Another day that I sit and wonder:

What the hell am I doing with my life?

Since my long-delayed college graduation a month ago, I've been officially calling myself a writer. Am I really a writer, though, if the only place I've been published is my college literary journal, circulation of about 500 extending to the furthest reaches of the expansive university campus? I'm not sure. This is my official attempt to write every day, as many writing greats before me have advised. So here is my story:

My name is Glenn, even though I'm a woman. Yes, my parents have been called creative by many. The first day of school was always depressing when no teacher believed that the little blonde girl with bug-eyed glasses was Glenn. Now I get second glances in any situation involving identity security, and feel as if I am forever showing my license. I love my name, though. I just love to be different.

I love to tell people that I have five sisters just to laugh at their shocked expressions. In truth, I have two biological sisters (Erin, 23 & Tess, 19) and my father's girlfriend has three daughters (Mandy, 17, Savannah, 15, Cooper, 12). Even the dog is a girl... Jasmine. My mother died of cancer six years ago, but she still creeps into my life in a million little ways.

So, I'm a writer... by night. I have a degree in English with a concentration in Creative Writing from a public state university, for all that's worth. It took me six years to finish school because I was a good-for-nothing slacker for the better part of three semesters and ended up "taking time off" (a nicer way to say dropping out). But I eventually went back, and last month I actually finished something, for once in my life. I concentrated in poetry and fiction, and that's what I'm working on. Next step is publishing.

By day, though, I'm a childcare technician... that's college talk for nanny. I work for a family straight out of the Nanny Diaries, complete with mansion, Porsche, and "stay-at-home-mom," a.k.a. Professional Online Shopper. I often wish things were different. When I went to my boss today with the clear intention of quitting, she told me that my resignation was unacceptable: she would need three months notice, or no references for me. This is unfortunate because it leaves a four year blackout period in my employment records. I'm not sure what to do about this.

I'll think about it in Ireland. This time in two weeks I'll be asleep on a Continental Airlines flight to Dublin, realizing my dream of over five years. I go for four weeks. Who knows, I may never come back.

Well, that's enough for a first post... that no one will probably ever read, anyway. But that's ok. Tomorrow I may attempt to answer my title question. Intrigued?

You should be.