Old Story, Getting Older All the Time

One of my best friends is married. Lots of people are on their last year of grad school, or done already. On their second or third post-college experiences. They have jobs. Some of them have jobs that they want, or jobs that might get them the jobs that they want. Others, like me, have the jobs that they have. I have two jobs. I recently dropped one and picked up a better one; I keep reminding myself that this is proof that I am in control of my life. But I do not have a plan. I do not have an inkling of a plan. There were reasons I chose the things I did. I picked a school, then I picked some classes, then I picked a major, and within four years, I brought it all to an officially successful end. But somewhere between freshman orientation and college graduation, the dots stopped connecting.