Tag Archives: stroke out

“I just applied for a job in Vietnam. What’s for dinner?”

Above is the contents of a text message I sent to a friend telling her I had just applied for a job in Vietnam, softening the blow by asking what we’re going to have for dinner tonight at our weekly Tuesday night get-together. She took it well, replying with exclamations of excitement and asking if I still wanted macaroni and cheese or if I’d changed my mind. My mother handled it surprisingly well too. I sent her the link to the job description and she replied, “The hell you are moving to Vietnam.” After I explained to her the job would only have me in Vietnam for a year, she seemed okay with it, but then she reminded me how my grandparents would react saying they’d “totally stroke the hell out”. She’s not wrong, but they’d get over it. Eventually. The third person I told had a more radical reaction. “Vietnam?! Have you lost your MIND?! That’s a war zone!!!” To that, I just laughed and reminded her that technically we could be considered a war zone as well.

When I found the job posted online, I didn’t see all the scary things my friends and family were weary of, and I still don’t. All I see are possibilities: the chance to learn the e-book publishing process, the opportunity to go abroad and explore Asia. I know it will be scary, and the likelihood of me actually getting this job is slim, but I took and chance, and I have hope.

There’s a quote I believe is very fitting to this situation by Neale Donald Walsch – “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” That is certainly the case here, as moving to Vietnam would be outside of my comfort zone, by a long shot. I think it would be a fabulous opportunity though, one I would be crazy not to jump at, seeing as it’s only for a short period of time… I mean, what’s a year really, anyway? It’s already almost April, and I feel like it was just Christmas.

Time just seems to fly past without any real thought. And of course not; time doesn’t and cannot think. Time is not a tangible thing. What is time even? Just the way someone once decided was necessary to mark the passage of days? Even a day is a matter of time made of intangible hours, minutes, and seconds that are used to classify and compartmentalize our world, but they really have no meaning at all. They pass quickly and slowly and without any regard or meaning, or perhaps with a great deal of meaning depending on the circumstances. This is becoming much more philosophical than I’d intended, but so it goes.

Here I am droning on and I haven’t even told you what the job entails. I would be considered an e-book associate and would be learning the ins and outs of publishing e-books as the publishing house expands their market. They mostly deal in publishing compilations of fine art, which is right up my alley. I could walk through art museums all day long.

I’m also in the process of applying for a job in California as an editorial assistant for a company that publishes mostly academic journals. That could be interesting, and California is California. I’d be just outside of Los Angeles, which sounds nice in theory. I’d be a lot closer to Oakland, where my darling friend Caroline lives, at least for a little bit longer, though Oakland is still a pretty good ways from Los Angeles. At least it’s not as far as Vietnam!

Well, today I’m taking chances. I’m stepping out of my comfort zone and jumping head first into the abyss. Here’s hoping.

With love,

Haley

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