Dear Marie,

I started my very 1st office job 3 weeks ago. So, yea, I think I am ahead at the maturity game. But truthfully, I really don't think it's about being ahead, or winning at the maturity game. The only losers in maturity game are the winners.

The 1st two weeks of cubicle life were hell. I could barely see by the end of the days after staring at a computer screen all day, and the florescent lights gave me such a headache I thought I would faint. After sitting in an office chair for 8 hours, I came home complaining about my back, neck and shoulders saying, "now I know what all those painkiller ads on TV are for!"

By the end of the second week, I had confiscated a pair of speakers from an empty cubicle so I could listen to KRCL.org, the community radio station here in Utah, or Pandora.com on the internet. I stood on my desk and unscrewed the florescents, brought desk lamps and tea and chocolate and a comfy blanket. So now I work in a cozy den instead of a cubicle. But the thing that really gets me through, besides staying well hydrated as an excuse to stretch my legs and make frequent trips to the lady's room, is a picture of you I've pinned to the wall behind my monitor.

It's you so awed and thrilled at the Oregon coast during that road trip we took in '04 or '05. We'd pretty much just met and thought a road trip from Vancouver to Portland and beyond would be a good way to consummate the friendship. You're wearing that funny '20s hat of mine, and a blue skirt hiked up past your knees. We're barefoot in the freezing water. You're wearing that big wool sweater.

Whenever I start thinking that this cubicle is reality, I look up and see this snapshot of an adventure that shaped my resistance to what I had labeled "normal everyday life." Since that trip, my normal everyday life lead me from Vancouver to Ghana to Oregon to Northern California to Reno to all over Latin America and back to my home in Salt Lake City.

Now, however, I am redefining the adventure of everyday life as a search for stability. A steady job excites me. An apartment of my own is worth the work hours it takes to pay for it. But I'm still overwhelmingly frustrated because I daydream about arranging my work schedule instead of some next great art project. I keep making road trip plans (two times already this week) completely forgetting I can't just take off tomorrow and come home whenever the wind blows this direction.

You talk about resentment towards others that have what you want. My resentment/bitterness/jealousy comes from thinking people around me have an easy time maintaining the lifestyle I think I want. But, like you said about learning farm life was not the majestic one-ness with nature and romantic self-sufficiency you'd hoped, but discouragingly hard work. And really, it was the knowledge gained from the experience that has been the gift, not the lifestyle itself.

You're so right about accepting the path you've been down and being grateful you've had the experiences you've had. I was worrying to a friend the other day, "what if I'm not on the right path? What if I'm making the wrong choices?" And he said, "You're on the path you've chosen, what other path is there?"

Love, Jennica

P.S These are my daydreams: