the night I was working on a manuscript at the laughing goat & there was live music & a black coffee was too much & I joined a mailing list

I was reading La Fuite de la Lune by O.W. and felt a little hopeful, like just beyond my cloud of constant question is a place that is silent. Or maybe I'll get to hear a shrill cry from my corncrake mate; the cry the answer, and it's as sudden as the length of a cry, and by the end I'm wrapped gauze yellow and heading somewhere. [And now I'm imagining the yellow vintage dress I'll be wearing when I get there - how wonderful. If you see a picture of me in yellow, you'll know I've found something.]
I think the hardest thing is that I never had to question anything about what I should do, before this. And the irritating part is that it's a typical post-collegiate lesson to learn, and I don't like typical, and despite typical, I feel quite alone and separate. I feel as though it might be as easy as the exact right advice - the length of a cry - at the exact right moment, that dispels the cloud and provides the answer. Keyword: Easy, but Easy probably just means out of the blue or Quick. A mere walking over a line. Which reminds me, as a child I dabbed a bit in undiagnosed OCD, like life-hindering needs & number games, like frozen over trying to walk through Bellis Fair on no lines and no white tiles, like standing at store entrances until the handle had been fondled the right amount of times. So, yeah, maybe hesitancy in entering has always been hovering. But back then at least I knew what the mall looked like, despite having rules about getting in and through it.
I'm flailing a little, like in the last few days I asked a tattoo shop if I could just be around them, I said, "Even if I have to learn how to pierce," which was really awkward of me, but the guy didn't know how to spell "does" and it made me sad. Then I applied to be an assistant manager at a thrift shop (I'll find out next week if it's a Go), but in the interview had to confess that Yes, I do not have managerial skills. Then I applied to be a basketball coach for a private K-12 school about a half-hour away, writing in my cover letter that I miss the "team atmosphere" and though I have no experience in coaching, I played once. Now I have an interview for that next week, and I'm more afraid that they'll hire me. I don't know how to be authoritative when my emotions are jumbled & I keep circling the woe my life and my college education cycle. I guess I'm just at the end of my line, which means that I have a 6 month line. I'm not sure if I'm afraid I'll be like my mother who has worked odd jobs her whole life. But I feel like I know the true answer to this. I'm not, and I won't be. My mother has been a wild animal vet, a grocer, a taco vendor, a hot dog vendor, a bank teller, an antique sales specialist, a collector, a diamond saleswoman, a repo security guard, and probably probably so many other things I haven't asked about. I mean, already I have been:
1. A telemarketer
2. A hot dog vendor/cook
3. A cat care specialist at a cat inn
4. A lunchlady in oregon
5. A beverage cart attendant
6. A host, a server
7. A mannequin dresser at a homeless store
8. In retail sales low-end to middle-end
9. An editor
10. A writer
11. A nanny
12. A banquet server, bartender, prep chef
13. An organic farm stand hand, a chili roaster
14. An assistant college running coach
15. Once I got paid to be a pacer
And it keeps growing, so maybe I have to be okay with not having a direct path in which each step & each job leads me towards a bigger picture, a career path, and instead see that maybe one day "suddenly the moon withdraws her sickle from the lightening skies, and to her sombre cavern flies, wrapped in a veil of yellow gauze," me. It's called idealism I think.