I feel a bit like the painting above. An unfinished fence, waiting for completion--for purpose.

I'm blessed with some very wonderful long-distance friends, whom--'tho we'll likely never meet, have given me so much that I feel I can never truly return. A year ago, I had virtually no one. It's a warm feeling, knowing there's someone out there, that acknowledges my existence. I am only alone in the physical sense.

I don't seem to have a use, anymore, though. I don't--really not--I don't mean that in the sense that I'm feeling woefully sorry for myself. I mean that in the real, practical sense.
I just don't know what to do with my life. I got turned down--tho' not totally rejected--for the freelance offer at the local paper--writing's "very good, but.." I "need to work more on (my) journalistic style." As rejection letters go, it was actually very nice--constructive criticism--which is actually helpful, sort of. I was asked to re-submit at an unspecified "later date," whatever that means.

Reckon I needed to study my newswriting stylebook a bit harder, I suppose. My portfolio was a bit lame--I'd only managed to recover one of the four feature stories I'd written for the college, and had to submit mock-ups, mostly, and some online articles.

But really, it's hard. Knowing--and again, this isn't an "oh, poor me" thing--it's sincerely difficult, going through life, with the very real knowledge that no one actually needs you. No one. Not even my employer. If I suddenly couldn't work--nothing would happen--they'd fill my spot and life goes on. I've no one to care for, but myself and the three cats--and I have no illusions--given enough love and attention, they'd not be missing me long--animals are even more resiliant--mostly--than many people.

I miss having something to actually DO. In school, there was continually something to do, at home, mum needed care. But they're gone. The apartment's so small--even when it's a total pigsty--like at the mo'--, it takes less than two hours to be made nearly spotless. I have no real skills, to speak of--good phone presence, or so I was told, but so what? So do a lot of other people--and everyone now wants a bunch of computer skills, and...just not gonna' happen. I can get by, with a computer--but things like Excel and Photoshop and Quark, and stuff---beyond me. I've tried--I've taken Excel 7 times, and bombed out, and Photoshop classes twice, and totally suck at it. What use is it to read well and have an okay speaking voice, be an average writer and be someone can file and do research virtually in my sleep--all nearly useless skills in the 21st century! Trust me. I've found this out the hard way.

They don't even use file clerks anymore, research is done either by student interns or people with PhD's, receptionists now have to know fancy computer programmes...I came to the coldly real conclusion last year--that I have no real useful job skills, anymore. I don't fit into the work world of 21st Century. I am employable only as a drudge. Mind you, there's a whole lot of us out there, in the same boat--the S.S. Titanic.

Which leaves me wondering--what good am I? Where is my place in this world? Do I even have a purpose, anymore? I've no answer to any of that. I never thought I was special--but somehow, never really thought of myself as anonymous, before. And that's a rather somber realization. Just another weathered old fencepost by the roadside.