Moving to the suburbs?

I woke up this morning at 6:30, ready to kill. Kill, or curl my knees to my chest. I can't remember. Thinking "I can't do this anymore, and I don't want to move to the suburbs", I slept in till 8:00. Had I gotten up at 6:30, I would have left the apartment at 7:00 to catch a bus that would take me to the train station, which would take me to Lake Bluff, where the Abbott shuttle would pick me up and deposit me at AP6D promptly at 8:50. Just under two hours, and three modes of transportation- four, if you include Tevas.

As I couldn't force myself to do this, I left at 8:30 in my car, dropped Jake off at the Damen stop, and carried on to North Chicago in the Yesmobile. IT TOOK AN HOUR. Half the time, and I was at my desk by 9:30. (Clausal statement: I do not have a set time to arrive at work, so I was not 'late'.)

As I drove this morning, I thought about how I couldn't possibly leave Chicago proper to live in the suburbs, and that I would immediately look online for my new job. As I perused Craigslist and Hotjobs, I realized that not only were there few if any jobs I am qualified for (that I would take), none of them would pay as much as my current job. Stuck, I am.

In fact, surfing the Hotjobs site actually made me like my job here even more. Perhaps my continual vacilation needs a good dose of every once in a while when I start getting wishy-washy about whether I should leave or stay.

As I first began thinking about leaving, I thought I'd probably be happier working anywhere else. I'm a good waitress, having been through the trial-by-fire of Village Inn. I would make enough money to pay the rent, and I would continue to look for that better job on the horizon.

Of course, all of these jobs are just temporary, considering my desire to go back to school and become a librarian. It's now been two months of a consistant desire to get my MLS. I don't think I've had this much consistent focus since I wanted to be a catastrophe claims adjuster for State Farm.

Part of me thinks about how I'd rather not work at all. 'Work' being the job you go to daily. I wonder if I have the cajones to up and make photographs for a living. There are plenty of mediocre photographers out there- I could always join their ranks. I'd probably get sickle cell from the fixer.

I have yet to hear back from Mike at Manpower about what options I have, and I haven't had a chance to ask my supervisor here about the possibility of a permanent position. In other words, there's no reason to overanalyze now. Oooh, but it feels so good.