Stagnant

Quite possibly a false perception on my part, but it is rather disconcerting to see progress in your peers while your own life spins in the mud, burrowing deeper into stagnant muck. I take very slight comfort in my age, thinking that the lower thirties aren't quite a lost cause, but nevertheless a call for concern. Looking into my bag of tricks isn't encouraging, there's really nothing beyond the usual card tricks or a string of multi-colored hankerchieves that most employers have not already seen done or done better, so I'm basically starting off at ground zero. I'm not better than a recent high school grad, except there will be this cavervous gap that I'll have to account for whereby my career stalled in the wrong lane, seemingly oblivious to the other open available lanes next to me. I can't help but be frustrated and guilt-ridden at my desire for more. It isn't more money, or a glorified position, but rather finding my place in this world doing something that I'm gifted at. My great hope is that November is a month of obligation, that even a shoddy first draft will be enough to warm my blood to yearn for more inspiration. I have to write to stay afloat from drowning in my pool of utter despair.