Dear Mel,

Note to self: Slow down.

The older I get, the faster the earth spins. Hours are busier, days shorter, years pass by in a blink. This time last year I was:

Walking away from graduation with my masters degree, thinking about all the wonderful jobs I would have to turn down when I accepted the perfect one (ha, ha, HA). Thinking about how I would pay for two more months in my apartment until my least was up & where I'd go once it was time to move away.

Having a brief facebook conversation (romantic, no?) with M -- who was just a friend at the time --, thinking about how we had flirted and wondering why I hadn't been more upfront about my crush.

Enjoying a little time at home with my family in my house, listening to them talk about renovation versus new versus construction versus plain old furniture replacement. And around we go.

And now? Now I'm in this "big city" in TN. My family is visiting me here for the holidays because they decided on new & construction and in a few weeks time, the house I grew up in will be no more. M & I have been together for a year (!). It seems like a lifetime ago that we were "just friends" and was crushing like a 12 year old. And then in the same instant it seems like yesterday that he surprised me with a kiss in a parking lot. Now I have a job, albeit not the perfect job, but a job. In my field. Where I get to contribute. Where I feel like I'm useful and helpful and capable after 8 MONTHS of no job and 15 months before that of miserably slogging through my master's thesis (a word of new years wisdom: may I caution you against this--or at least encourage you to pick an easy professor).

Today I watched my co-worker type the year 2010 and had a woah-moment. This year I will turn 26. This year I will deal with the same job search dileima as I did last year, but I will face it with new eyes, wisened eyes, more purposeful eyes. This year I will celebrate with my family. I will see them as much as I can, because I am blessed to be able to see them (even if we make one another crazy after a couple of days!). This year I will nurture my relationship with M. I will remember all of those things that made us successful to this point, our communication, our effort, our sincerity, our investment in each other.

At Christmas dinner, meaning nothing but honest encouragement, my uncle told my brother that things would work out. I interrupted him, as I am wont to do, and said, "And sometimes you have to work them out." This year I will not look back and say, "I can't believe that happened." I will say "I made that happen." I will slow down and take stock of my actions and decisions. How's that for a resolution? It sounds big and impressive, and yet is abstract enough that I can hang the Mission Accomplished banner without too much defense (thanks for that trick, Dubya). In all seriousness, personal responsibility is probably a resolution I should have made long before my 25th year, but here I am and here we go.

Here Comes Santa Claus

My house is a wreck. I've been working on Christmas presents so there's stuff EVERYWHERE. Balls of yarn piled up in a bag by the couch, pens, paint and paper spread out on the coffee table, clothes from the last three weekends I've spent out of town all over the floor, etc.

It looks like a tornado ripped through my lovely, neat apartment (see last weeks pictures)-- albeit a festive tornado. Money's tight this year, so Christmas presents mean lots of homemade things and lots of work on my part in the 18 days I have left. I'm looking forward to spending some time with my family. I spent thanksgiving with M's family and as great and welcoming as they are, as much a part of their family as I feel, it doesn't mean I don't miss MY family.

Sometimes when my mom throws passive aggressive remarks my way about not moving back home, I think, "Are you listening to this conversation, I'm good. Thanks." Other times, I think "Mom, I miss you so much, I hate that I moved so far away and can't see you whenever I want, don't you know that?" Thus is the nature of our relationship. It's not so different from others I've heard. We try to protect each other, that's what family does. It can be frustrating. Love can be frustrating.

And on that note, here comes Christmas. It Arrives with boughs of holly and silver bells. (And often leaves with a feeling I can only imagine is similar to being run over by a reindeer.) In two weeks I'll be picking up my family at the airport and they'll see my new city as my city for the first time. I should probably start picking up my messy apartment.

Welcome to December

Things I love:

• Thanksgiving. It always makes me happy no matter where I am. I like to cook and eat and spend time with people who love each other.

• Christmas Lights. Both professional and amateur displays, electric and wax. My lights and tree are up, candles are everywhere. This is my favorite part of the season.

• Snow! Which is forecast for Thursday morning. Just flurries, but I'll take it.

Things I don't love:

• Loud neighbors who listen to their TV with THE VOLUME ALL THE WAY UP.

• Leaving my house early to defrost my car windows.

• Service departments that are supposed to close at 5, but go home earlier than that.

(p.s. Did you know if you google 'amateur,' but misspell it 'amature' all you get for results are porn sites? Doesn't say much for that "recession-proof" industry.)

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday

This was the first full weekend I spent in town, so I decided to go to church this morning. Now, I'm not a bible thumper. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure there are 6 year olds better versed in the bible than me, but I like to go to church. I enjoy the hour or so of reflection on a Sunday morning, before a busy week. It's been a while since I've been travelling over the weekends and Sundays have been about being lazy lately. Still, I'm in a new town, and visiting a service is a good way to get to know people. So I got up & went.

I felt so welcomed.

I was raised in a Presbyterian church and I know generally what to expect before I even walk i n the door. Big Presbyterian churches don't spend much time getting to know each other, there's too many people! They operate like a well oiled machine. Sunday School, Church (scheduled to the minute), coffee, and you're out. Sometimes groups will bond over bible studies. In contrast, small Presbyterian churches are families in the truest sense of the word. They notice an outsider, and (for the most part) make an effort to make them feel welcome. Occasionally they'll call them out during the service (embarrassing), but the truth is, by the time they get around to calls for concerns or celebrations, you feel right at home. And sometimes they invite you to their potluck lunch.

And sometimes they sit with you and talk to you about anything and everything. And ask you about your life and your boyfriend. And invite you to spend time with them outside of church. Sometimes they ask you to come back whenever you can, and friend you on Facebook (these are the moments when I'm so thankful for the internet).

It was a wonderful, tiny church, with about 35 members in attendance. They clearly celebrated their children (they were everywhere). They clearly cared about their community (the night before they had housed a "Room in the Inn" program, and 10 homeless men slept in the Sunday School wing). They clearly cared about making everyone feel like they were a part of the church. The minister stopped himself and changed his wording to be more inclusive about 5 times during the sermon, in the most sincere way. But what touched me most was the congregation. One elderly man, who had been a member for many years and was living in another area, had been driven to the service by another member. He had on clothes that were brand new and too big for him. He clutched $15 for the collection plate. The pastor welcomed him by name, during the service, and when it was time to get together for the potluck supper, he had no shortage of invitations to sit at tables.

I'm not one to go on and on about church. I'm not one to try to recruit or convert or whatever. But these were real Christians. Good people. Good Sunday. After a week of talking about poverty, about talking about building nonprofits and trying to make a difference, a morning in church, in reflection, is what brought it all home. It's almost Thanksgiving and I know what I'm going to say when we go around the table. I'm thankful for moments of stillness, for thoughtfulness, for welcoming people, and warm places.

30k

Nope, not how much money I'm making (I wish!). I'm currently 30,000 feet above the ground typing this blog from the airplane as I fly home from the ATL. I'm blogging on a plane because I can and I think it's cool.

I have never been so excited to sleep in my own bed.

I went through lots of training this weekend to begin my Year of National Service. Today I swore to protect and defend the constitution of the United States against all enemies foreign and domestic as a VISTA member. We (a subdivision of Americorps- think domestic Peacecorps) take the same oath as the Military. Someone actually asked as we were about to stand and swear in if saying these words made us the first line of defense in case of a national emergency. Come on. It's called common sense. Amidst all the talk of poverty and capacity building this week, did you spend even 2 minutes in a firing range? No? Well that probably means that you won't have to stand on the beach as Al Qaeda floats up. Can you tell how frustrated I was? I'll continue this vent after we land-- holy short flight, batman!

On the ground now.

Let me preface this by saying; I understand that talking about poverty from varied perspectives, especially when you're supposed to be working towards reducing it, is important. I also had a great facilitator (Sylvia, who I'm absolutely positive is NOT hurting for money by any measure). But when you are trying to convince us of the truth behind certain rhetoric, there are rules.

For instance, you can't be totally hypocritical. The motto of the week was to be "Efficient and Effective." I'm going to say it, they could have done this whole training online. As a matter of fact, we did do it online, we just did it all again in person! We had one session that I felt like wasn't review, and was something I could actively apply to my work experience. It was good. I learned something. I would have appreciated more like it, if we were really going to have a training that lasted an entire week. Imagining what the Federal Government spent on this training...I don't even want to think about where that money could have gone.

I did meet some great people who will be affecting change in the next 12 months. Here comes my soapbox (just for a line or two). We, as a nation, are facing harsh realities about our economy and the ability to make things different. The 150 people who were at the training this weekend will make changes. They may not be huge, or noticed by everyone, but there will be constructive, positive changes, nonetheless.

Climbing down now, so that I can get to the forehead-slapping moments.

• One woman in my group referred to welfare as "entitlements." When the group facilitator stopped her and asked her to think about why her words might be considered offensive, she didn't understand at all.

• After she explained AGAIN why someone might take offense to welfare being called "entitlements" the facilitator asked "everyone understand what I'm saying?" A woman sitting off to the side, who missed the point on multiple occasions, says "Yeah, it's bad to live off of the government." Sigh, really? Did we not just spend two whole days talking about how you can't make sweeping statements or judgments? WERE YOU IN THE SAME ROOM I WAS FOR THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES?!

• Another woman INSISTED that education was not a factor influencing poverty (her evidence was she's "seen people with college degrees in the shelter"). Ok, I understand that every situation is unique, and I'm the last person to guarantee that a degree = a job, But seriously? If you cannot read, it makes it pretty hard to earn more that minimum wage. If you didn't graduate from high school, it's hard to become an executive.

• One girl had all the trigger words and idealisms. This is going to be a hard year for her. While I think that people who stay positive do better at this job, a healthy level of realism can help in avoiding frustration. You can't expect quoting your college professor all day to get you through a year of service to a rural, undereducated community.

In sum, the training had pros and cons, ups and downs, helpful moments and wasteful moments. It was an experience to kick off a year of experiences. Deep breath: here. we. go.

1 Day, 2 Posts!

On a lighter note, I had a very interesting cultural experience this weekend.

Have you ever been to a baptism that got broken up by the cops? Because I have.

Have you ever been to a baptism that looked like this:

Because I have.

Would you believe that this was a baptism for 1 year old twin girls?

Here they are in all their cake-eating glory:

My aunt is really involved with the Mexican community in her town in middle TN. She takes the (legal) children back and forth to see their grandparents in Mexico, because their parents cannot. She's God-mother to so many of them even SHE can't keep it straight! And she translates for me when I have no idea what is happening. (Which is pretty often. Anyone have the Spanish Rosetta Stone they would like to share?) Let me tell you, when it comes to parties for the kids, there are no limits! The DJ they had at this show had a more impressive light rack than the Rock of Love tour. (Disclaimer: I did not go to a Rock of Love tour concert, so I'm just assuming. I did have an unhealthy interest in the show, however.)

What. an. experience.

[Apologies for the picture quality, they were taken with my cell phone.]

Let's Talk About Stress, Baby

This is a pretty common topic for me. If I could make a living off of worry, I'd be a bajillionaire That's somewhere between a quadrillion and a umptillion, if you were wondering. I'm in a strange lull of my own stress and am currently worried about others who are feeling that elephant on their chest. It should be easier for me to recognize it in others, but I seem to have a hard time. So tell me, the three of you who leave me comments regularly, do you freak out? How does your stress run it's course? How do you solve it? I'm looking for pointers for me to use in the future (because I know that no matter how smooth my plateau feels, it'll come back around eventually) and for me to share.

Here's my usual cycle (although you could probably figure it out from my series of past posts):

1. Do anything but think about whatever problems are weighing on me.

2. Totally freak out. Hide in my apartment for a couple of days (way easier when living alone).

3. Take one of two courses of action:

A: Cycle back to step 1.

B: Solve something. (Usually the most minor problem first, then work through the others as I build my confidence.)

Does that sound familiar? Foreign? I'm interested in how everyone solves their "I'm-totally-overwhelmed-and-I-don't-know-where-to-start-making-this-better" moments.

It's Monday and I feel...

1. Accomplished. The silent auction that I helped to put together (read: walked into in a sorry state and cold called my way to success) raised $5,500+ at our fundraising event last weekend! With matching funds that is over $11,000. And my boss was thrilled. Here's just a little aside for me to say: GO ME :)

2. Nostalgic. This weekend is probably the last time I'll spend time in the house I grew up in. December 6th deconstruction/construction will begin on their new house. I took some pictures of the house the last time I was home. That's all we'll have left in just a matter of a few weeks. A lot of people have asked if I'm sad, but I'm ok. It's really up to my mom and pop, and if it makes them happy, welp that's all that really matters.

3. Conflicted. Thanksgiving's coming up. We always spend thanksgiving with family in NC. My mom & dad aren't going this year because of the aforementioned construction and move out date. Not to mention that with the issues on I-40 it would take about 8 hours to get there. So. Do I come home and spend the holiday helping my family move out of our home (p.s. I've done a ton of travelling in the last few weeks and am facing much more) OR do I have thanksgiving with M and his family. Which I think would be easy and fun, except I think it would make mom upset. Sigh. Anyone got the right answer here?

4. Psyched. M's coming Thurs-Sat and I get to find some (cheap) funnn things for us to do in my new town! I'm trying to keep in mind that it's just the first time of many that he'll be coming to visit and I'll have plenty of time to do lots of fun things with him. I don't have to get to it all in this day and a half.

5. Expectant. Official training for my new job starts one week from today. I will officially take on the VISTA title one week from Friday. One week and I'll be working 40 hour weeks like a regular person. (I won't be seeing the paychecks...but I've been working on NOT saying this every time I talk about my new job. Because, irregardless, it is a real job and I'll be doing real, important work and I'll be getting real experience.)

My over all mantra? "Here we go." And I'd like to make note of the face that I said here we go and not here I go. There's a difference. Even though I know very few people in my new town, I don't feel alone. That's huge. I would also like to point out that "anxious" didn't make the list. That is also huge. Really huge. Good things, people.

Old(ish) Dog, New Tricks

Tonight I learned that if you call AAA to check on your service request, and they have lost your service request, they will flag your call as "urgent" and you will have an agent at your car in 10 minutes or less.

Ok, so maybe I locked my keys in my car tonight as I ran a quick errand for work. That errand, which could have taken 5 minutes, resulted in me sitting alone at an indoor/outdoor bar at a restaurant waiting for AAA for over an hour. Eventually, I called them to check on my service (she had warned me that it might take up to 2 hours for someone to get to me, so I wasn't too stressed). I found out they had either never put my service call in OR lost it in some kind of computer glitch. The customer service agent told me that "it's been happening today" and that it was "nervewracking for them." Um, I'm sorry your nerves are rattled, girl sitting in a warm AAA call center, but I've been waiting for an hour and a half(!) so anything you could do to expedite this process would be much appreciated. Please and Thanks.

8 minutes later a AAA truck pulled up (lights flashing- gee, I wasn't embarrassed enough before) and my savior got out. Between this big black man and a tiny airbag, my car was unlocked in 20 seconds, for free. I think that AAA roadside service agent must be the most rewarding job in the world. If I had a 1st born, I might have given it to him.

Next time (as M suggested) instead of waiting for an hour, I will just call and act like they've lost my service call the first time, and this will all be sorted in 5 minutes instead of 95 minutes. I have a feeling there's some sort of bigger lesson here about me slowing down a bit and putting more thought into my actions, but I'm too worn out to dwell on that.

Autumn in Pictures

Beautiful kaleidoscope leaves in the Smokies through the sunroof

Why the last picture was taken from the sunroof (traffic through the smokies)

Still some green left.

M checking out the view from Clingman's Dome.

M and the Clingman's Dome tower that we walked a half mile to from the parking lot. I made it too, but just barely, so I'll spare you the pictures of me after the "hike." Rest assured I took these pictures of him.

Me and my homemade bat wings (as requested). I didn't go out-out, but I dressed up anyway!

Our delicious dinner, courtesy of KT. Eyeballs (meatballs) and worms (spaghetti).

My contribution (which went fast!). Crispy Brains (rice crispy treats cut with pumpkin cookie cutter & turned upside down...use your imagination!)

My vamp-umpkin, heh heh. Which is now rotting on M's porch. Pretty sure I'll be the one to throw it away when I go back in a couple of weeks. The seeds were delicious!

October in pictures. I think I'll do this again next month, if only to force me to unload my camera onto my computer. I swear it's like that old commercial where the subjects of the pictures are all standing around waiting to get deleted to make room for more. I bet I can find it...ah yes here it is, for reference.

Charlie Brown

Tonight there was way to much competition for my attention in terms of Halloween TV. I had to pick between Hocus Pocus, some real scary movie (like Halloween XVII) or It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown. Of course, when I saw that last one, it wasn't even a contest.

I love the Charlie Brown specials, all of them. Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown is obviously a classic. But, the Great Pumpkin is my favorite. Mostly because I am Linus, sitting in the pumpkin patch all night. I am that kid whose imagination carries them away, whose optimism is undaunted. Maybe that's why I love Halloween so much, because isn't that what it's all about?

I get that, for my age group, Halloween is all about the sexy factor. This bothers some people. I'm not going to hate on sexy costumes because: (1) been there & done that and (2) really, as long as you're over 18 and under 400 el-bees, what's wrong with showing a little leg on Halloween? It goes along with the whole pretending thing. That being said, I truly appreciate a well-thought-out, homemade costume. My affection for a self construction probably dates back to the days where my mom handmade my incredible Halloween costumes. I was Maid Marian when I was about 9 (that costume lasted years in the dress up bin). I was a Bobby Soxer in the 5th grade (that one was so awesome it got borrowed/stolen a couple years later). When I was 14 (that's right, my mom made my costume when I was in the 9th grade) I was a gypsy and my mom sewed handkerchiefs together to make a skirt for me. Who wouldn't love Halloween when it came with things like that?

And did I mention I love candy? And scary movies? And haunted houses? And carving pumpkins?

I just spent 25 minutes looking for my favorite Halloween book online, signed up for a trial membership of Amazon Prime to save on shipping, and mailed it to M. Just spreading the spooky love!

This is it, The Candy Witch. It's not in print anymore, but if you've ever read it I'm sure it's stuck with you (if just for the scene with the lemonade fountains and candy filling the town square. Just remember, if you find a little bit of candy in your pocket, it was probably this little witch!

This weekend I plan to do all things Halloween, and drag M along with me. I'm using this to get into the spirit. Also, I plan on being in costume, even if I'm the only one!

I Want...

I tend to think setting goals is somewhat cliche. Let me preface that by saying: I know a lot of people do it, and a lot of people do achieve the goals they set for themselves. M's dad told me that he set a goal to be a millionaire by the time he was 30, and he did it! I'm not trying to take away from that. But for me, goals tend to be more stressful than empowering. I tend to be paralyzed by timelines and the fear of absolute failure. Today, though, I started thinking about the things that I want in my life. Wants are less anxiety-provoking. Wants are goals without pressure. On some level wants form and drive goals, but they come without the possibility of not making it.

So, without further ado, the first few things I came up with while wandering around my new city:

I want...

...to be a lifelong learner. This might mean being back in school multiple times. This might mean working in academia (though I doubt it). This might mean getting a job that requires re-certification. Whatever it means, as an alumna of Mr. Jefferson's University, I believe strongly in constantly learning.

...a partner. I want a solid, for-life, commitment to another person who I can depend on and who will depend on me. I want to build and share a life with my significant other. I would like to be married someday, but honestly, I don't need that. I think it would surprise a lot of people to hear me say that, but truthfully the foundation is so much more important to me than the paperwork.

...to do more good than harm. I want to use my education to build a career where I'm contributing to my community. I'm off to a good start with my new job. I hope this is the kind of experience that will open doors into the nonprofit or education world.

...to have a child. (Not any time soon, mind you. I'm thinking more along the lines of a decade from now.) I want to raise that child in a home where he or she knows love and structure and stability and potential. I want to be a good mom. I want to be able to put my child through college the way my parents did for me.

...to find myself alone on the beach at least once a year for my entire life. There's a new(ish) song on the radio by Dave Matthews and Kenny Chesney. One of the lines is: stars are dancing on the water here tonight/it's good for the soul when there's not a soul in sight. I know this feeling. I need this feeling. I want it. If I can't have the beach as my permanent residence then I want to be able to rely on a regular trip to re-center.

These are the very basics of what I want for me & my life. There's more that I want, but I think if I had these things I could live happily ever after. I hope so, because as I read over them, these five 'wants' would create a fairly well rounded life.

P.S. I got invited to a party here in my new town! I wasn't around to go to it (bummer) but the point is, I had an invite! After 5 days of living here. Maybe I'll make friends more quickly than I thought :)

Are You Serious?

Sometimes you have to defend The South as a whole. Sometimes you have to spend time convincing others that not everyone here is as ass-backward as the movies make them out to be.

Other times you just have to laugh, because all stereotypes come from somewhere.

Like this winner:

I made my aunt wait outside the grocery store for this guy to walk outside so I could get a picture. Yep, that's a guy. I sent the picture via cell phone to my mom, she called me and asked, "what is that?" My uncle had even seen the guy a couple days before. Know how he recognized him? He was wearing the exact same thing. What you can't see from this picture is the handlebar mustache, curled up on the ends, Snidely Whiplash style. Unreal.

And here's the second gem from my weekend:

Mhm. Two churches and some 'coon hunters. That would be raccoons (I hope), for those of you who don't speak Tennessee. My uncle says they meet weekly. Gotta stay on top of the cutting edge to catch those crafty raccoons. Side note: when my friend had raccoons in her attic, it took animal control a couple of hours and one big trap to get them out. Skillful hunting, no?

Tennessee, let's make a deal. I will attempt to defend you, my current state of residence. In return you must try to keep these kinds of things to a minimum. There's only so much I can explain away.

Home?

If the adage, "home is where the heart is," is true, I'm a long way from home. And probably a bit scattered. Some of my heart is up with my mom and dad, some is in Bburg with my brother, some is in Boston with my friends from college, some is in Kville with my friends there, and a big huge piece of my heart is back with M. I've officially moved 175 miles away, as of this morning. Yeah that doesn't sound so horrible, but here I sit, my life changing dramatically, and no one who loves me within check-in distance. Everyone keeps asking me if I'm excited. I don't know how to answer that question. I know the answer they're looking for is a simple and exuberant "yes!" but I can't bring myself to do that without tearing up. Here's what I feel:

I'm anxious. I'm starting a real job tomorrow that isn't going to pay me enough to live. I'm far from my family and friends. I know no one in this town. I'm not sure I live in the safest place ever. I have no idea how I'm going to take care of my health here. Not to mention that I do anxiety pretty darn well.

I'm sad. I left my handsome, fun, funny, sweet, charming M more than two hours away. In a different timezone. I know people do this all the time. I've done distance before myself. It doesn't mean I can't be sad about it.

I'm lonely. I've never been a very good play-by-yourself person. I like to be around other people. I don't know how I'm going to meet people. I have some connections through friends back in Kville, we'll see how that goes.

And I am excited, a little. About the potential of what this job could bring. Because they're so excited to have me working with them. I'm in a big city again, with lots to do and see.

I just wish some things were different. Namely I wish my innately anxious self would just chill out so I could enjoy this new step. (Anyone have some Xanax I could borrow?) I also wish that more people could just listen when I say these things. I'd give voice to them more often if I knew I wasn't going to be met with the same five statements of encouragement every time. I know every single person means well, I don't mean to be ungrateful for the support. It's just frustrating. Then again, maybe giving voice to my myriad of feelings isn't the solution. Maybe I need to swallow those anxious feelings and fake it til I make it. I think there is a lot of validity in that process as well. It worked in College, it worked in Kville, maybe it'll work here too.

I honestly never thought I'd drive away from Kville crying. After a year and a half there, I figured I'd be ripping off the rear view mirror and flipping the town the bird as I burned rubber off into the distance. Then, something changed over the last year. Kville became my home. I have an incredible community there. It was so hard to leave it behind. I type all this melodrama knowing full well that I'll be going back there a week from Friday. If I listen to that other old adage, "home is where you hang your hat" then Kville isn't my home. But so much of my heart is there. So much more of my heart than I ever imagined.

This post seems disjointed and poorly written as I read over it. It makes sense because that's how I feel. Disjointed. Out of place. Uncomfortable. Tomorrow I start work, and maybe things will be a little better. And maybe I'll just spend the next two weeks counting down to going back to Kville. It's okay, I knew I would feel that way at first. New places are hard. I need to work on repeating, "I'll make this better," instead of, "it's only a year and then I can move." Then again, the second was my motto when I first moved to TN and that turned out alright too.

Spoiled Girl - Part II (Atlanta to Fairhope)

Part II of the trip morphed from my birthday to being in town to help M's mom celebrate her birthday. She's so kind to me, and loves to see her son, obviously. I was excited to spend part of the weekend visiting with her, too!

Sunday 9am: We wake up, drag ourselves out of bed and pack up. The valets bring the car around (doesn't that make us sound rich?) and we're on our way. We've decided to take a meandering trail down to M's mom in Fairhope, Al. so we need to start early!

Sunday morning: Our route takes us through Eufaula and Dothan, Al., straight down to I-10, which we follow over until we are just north of Destin, Fl.

Sunday 1:30(ish)pm: I have never been to Destin, and after sharing this fact, M decides that's where we're having lunch. We're looking for a waterfront hole-in-the-wall and find the Boatdock Oyster House - perfect! Half dozen raw & a fish sandwich for M, Oyster po-boy for me (yum!) and we're back on the road.

Sunday afternoon: Our next goal is the world famous Florabama Lounge and Package Store. We drive through Pensacola, Fl., which takes us by this gem of a billboard:

We make it just in time to have a can of corona (I know they're selling these in stores now, but this was the first place I'd seen them) and dip our toes in the ocean.

Sunday 7pm: After 11 hours in the car, we're finally headed for our final destination for the day; beautiful Fairhope, Alabama. When we get there M makes us all an incredible steak dinner. I fall asleep on the couch watching family guy. It's been a long day, and we've got plans for tomorrow!

Monday 8am: We wake up and have a big cup of coffee on the porch and make a plan to go explore downtown. M's not feeling too well, and he's so sore he can't walk fast enough to keep up with me (nor can I make myself walk slow enough to keep down with him). We make due, and see the Fairhope library, as well as several shops in the artistic, eclectic downtown area.

Monday 1pm: M's mom has driven into Mobile, so we meet her there (a whopping 20 minutes away) for lunch at a local wing restaurant. No one gets wings, but it's delicious nonetheless.

Monday 3pm: On the way into Mobile, M saw the U.S.S. Alabama and arrows to the National Battleship Park, and suddenly we had afternoon plans. I know a lot of girls who would hate this plan for the afternoon, but climbing all over a big spooky WWII battleship sounds awesome to me! So after a quick drive down government street in Mobile, oohing and ahhing over the gorgeous southern homes, this is where we end up:

Pretty sure there are ghosts in the infirmary. Creepy:

Monday 6:30pm: We call M's mom on our way back and have her meet us at the Fairhope Pier to watch the sun go down over Mobile bay. M's looking like he feels worse and worse as the day goes on, but he seems to enjoy the peace of watching the sunset.

Monday 8pm: After a simple and elegant dinner at home (steak and rosemary potatoes), M completely tanks. Running a fever, totally out of it--he's not okay. A couple of Tylenol, an antibiotic, and a cup of tea later & M was passed out in bed.

Tuesday 8am: It's an early morning after a long night. M's fever spiked again in the night, but between the two of us (and Tylenol, thank God for Tylenol) we got it to break. He's feeling much better this morning, which is good because we have an 8 hour drive ahead of us.

Tuesday Morning: We shop a little with M's mom (I got a great trench coat for $25- original $130!) have a shrimp lunch and hit the road by our goal time of 1pm. An amazing feat, trust me.

Tuesday 9:30pm: We're rolling back into town, totally worn out, but happy with our adventure. We've spent 5 days with little or no time away from each other and not killed one another. This is a good sign for our relationship, methinks.

All in all, it was great (minus the whole M-knocking-on-death's-door thing). I'm really enjoying telling people all about our wonderful trip, emphasis on my M's superhuman effort to give me an incredible birthday present.

Spoiled Girl - Part I (Atlanta)

Here's a recap of my crazy, 1,300-mile, spoiled-girl, weekend. We got back Tuesday. But like everything else in my life, I've been procrastinating. Better late than never? (Maybe that should be the title of my blog. Sidebar: It is very very very conflicting to be both a type-A, high anxiety person, and a professional-level procrastinator.)

Friday morning, 8am: Get up to run errands: Bank & Walmart. Thank God for Superstores or my errands would have taken four times as long.

Friday morning(ish), 11am: M picks me up & we run his errands.

Friday 12:30pm: We hit the road headed for the Westin, downtown Atlanta! My babe treats me right.

Friday 5(ish)pm: We arrive at hotel, check into our room on the 44th floor and take in the breathtaking view. From the window we can see our next stop, the Georgia Aquarium!

Friday Evening: I am beyond excited about this trip to the aquarium. Shark week is possibly my favorite week of the year. I was promised Whale Sharks and I can't WAIT to see them. They have four in a huge 'ocean' tank. Here's an incredible picture I took while we were there:

And another of us being silly:

After the aquarium we wander around centennial park for a little bit & check out what was going on at the Coke Museum - a Darius Rucker Concert! M learned the song "Alright" and has been singing it for me in a few of his shows lately. When it starts playing outside of the museum he said, "Ok, now we have to stay and listen!"

By this point we are starving. Dinner was Mexican, a favorite of ours, and right next to the hotel! Then we went back and change quickly. We walk a million miles to find some live music and were accosted by a few homeless people along the way (I got conned--well technically, I got M conned--out of 3 bucks. I've been out of the city way too long!). We hang out at a cool place in midtown called Publik and then head back to the room. We have another long day ahead of us!

(Check out how I got to end my night. Am I a lucky girl or what?)

Saturday 8:30am: Hit snooze.

Saturday 9:30am: Get up & shower. We have things to do!

Saturday Morning: I'm wondering where my coffee is, M needs some supplies (shorts, a mouth guard, socks) before his big rugby game! We take a quick driving tour of his Alma Mater, Emory & head over to his fraternity house. (Personally I was a good ole GDI in college.) The place is clean and the boys are nice, M's friend shows up & we're off to the intramural fields!

Saturday 2:30pm: The game starts just in time for a major downpour. I've seen a couple of games before, but I've never seen M play. It's hard to watch him get hit, mostly because I know: 1. He doesn't have health insurance, 2. He's going to hurt for a week afterwards, and 3. I have to pee so bad that once it starts raining ridiculously hard I'm debating how (in)conspicuous it would be if i just peed my pants and then let the rain do the cover-up work.

(that's M on the ground...)

Saturday 4:30pm: I tell M we have to go somewhere I can pee RIGHT NOW, or I'm going to die. I am not exaggerating. On the way out of the parking lot I see bathrooms. Not port-a-potties that I was desperately searching the sidelines for, but actual, concrete bathrooms. My exact words were, "Son of a bitch! Pull over, I can't wait."

Saturday Evening: The pain's starting to set in for M, the hunger's starting to set in for me. We hang out at the after party for a little while, and then, deciding we are too old for all this hoopla, get some gyros (which I hoover) & go back to the room to lay down. Our weekend is not over. We have another early morning ahead of us. (See Part II)

Happy Birthday to Me

I turn 25 in two days and I have a birthday present request.

If you graduated from high school the same year as me, please do not have a baby.

I am so so so not ready for my peers to be having babies. COME ON. Not only are we in the prime of our lives, ready to experience and do and meet and go out and have fun, but for Christ's sake(!) we're in the middle of a horrific financial depression! Are you not watching the news? People everywhere are losing their jobs. I have a dual bachelors degree and an advanced degree and am going to be working a less-than-minimum wage job. Hello?! Not a good time to have a kid. Those of you in military relationships are somewhat excused from this rant just because you have a fairly guaranteed job at the moment. You're only somewhat excused because I still think having a kid right now is silly. And you're freaking me out because I'm nowhere close to having a kid (I feel the need to add, "Thank God," to this comment).

I had a plan to write out some sappy, "25 things I want to learn in the next year," or, "25 things I learned over the last year," etc. But facebook baby pictures and announcements slapped me in the brain when I logged on, so I ranted instead. Maybe I'll get around to that sappy one between now and Thursday. Eh.

(Disclaimer: If you consider yourself my friend and found & are reading this somehow...I don't mean you, obviously! I think it's awesome that you two are having a baby.)

Falling Into Place (Update: Or Not)

Update: I am not nearly as positive now (at 4:55 pm) as I was when I wrote this this morning. I found out some things about the space that are less than appealing. (Take for instance that the "studio apartment" is a room with a bathroom--ugh.) Luckily I have my dad to keep me somewhat stable. Trying to picture it as a cheap hotel until I find something that will work better. General sentiment now: UGH!

Two days ago I had a job offer (with no pay - to start off) in a new town, and nowhere to live with a very tight budget to find something. Today I have a place to live, well within my budget, and all on my own! Let me explain that by saying, I have lived alone for the last 3 years so having a roommate, or being a roommate, wasn't exciting to me.

I got the place through M's dad. I told him that I truly couldn't have done this without him. He just looked at me, like always, and said, "I'll do anything I can, anything my dad can, to help you." Then he said that maybe this experience will help me understand his life a little bit better, at least the fact that I had to wait and let things fall into place. I laughed and said that this is not my typical life strategy. I'm not the best planner and I love to procrastinate, but I don't like the unknown. Especially when the unknown is something important -- like say, a roof over my head. I really had to just hope things would work out on this one. I was as proactive as I could be, and then things were in someone else's hands. Lo and Behold, it worked out. I told my dad I just needed some mini-sign that I was doing the right thing. Here it is.

So, all this to say, I have a new place to live in my soon-to-be new city. Now, if I could just get used to the idea of not seeing M whenever I want...

Today

I'm sure there are a million 9/11 remembrance blogs getting posted today. I'm also sure there are a million blogs getting posted today that have nothing to do with September 11th, 2001. I'm not one to think this is a wholly terrible thing. I think that it has been 8 years. I think that a lot of healing has gone on for those who can heal. There are those whose lives have been left with a hole that can never be filled. The rest of us have reached some stable level of insecurity. A feeling of a lack of safety. But life goes on, even if it is in some mutated form.

My mom said to me that day (or one of the following days, they all ran together--then and now), "I thought your generation would never go through something like this." We didn't either. We grew up in such a bubble. I was 16 on September 11th, 2001. My birthday was just two weeks away. I was a senior in high school. On September 10th, 2001 my Girl Scout troop had booked a end-of-the-troop trip to New York City for December. I was in the process of procrastination from working on my college application.

Life was totally normal. And then it wasn't.

All of a sudden it was scary and unsafe. In Arlington, VA, parents (including mine) and friends, and neighbors work in the Pentagon and travel out of Dulles Airport daily. Everything is federal government centric. School was closed. For days afterward, instead of the regular air traffic over head (I grew up in a flight path for Reagan National Airport), we heard nothing but fighter jets. I had no idea how comforting that sound could be.

Life wasn't normal. And then, slowly, it was.

Normal took on a different meaning. Our college application deadlines were pushed back, but they still existed. I was accepted. I shopped at The Container Store with everyone else. My Girl Scout troop went to New York. We paused in silence by the gaping hole in the financial district and we saw the Rockettes. I went to college. We went to war. I dated a soldier. I graduated from college. I had friends who came home from battle, no older than 23. I got a Masters degree. We face a major recession. Life goes on. Normal is different, but it is still normal.

And so, here we are. Eight years later. Eight years of war. Eight years of mourning. Eight years of healing. Eight years of shifting normal. We can't forget. It seems so cliche. It is, really, but it would be such a disservice to the victims, to us, to forget. To forget would be to let something happen again. We also cannot dwell. This, too, is a disservice. There is a difference between remembrance and dwelling. Life. Goes. On. When we do not move with it, it moves without us.

So, normal is different. So, many blogs will not be about 9/11. It is somewhat of a comfort to me to think that thousands of people will wake up tomorrow and realize it is the 12th. In that moment they will pause and remember. It's fitting. The 12th is the day after. Eight years and one day after. Normal.

IFTIT

I am a football girl. My dad wouldn't have it any other way. I LOVE college football. I LOVE fall. I LOVE chili cookoffs & hot cider and jeering and cheering and wearing ORANGE for both of my teams!

I am pumped about the start of the season last night (although the games were not so impressive). I'm sure if you go/went to NC St. or SC you would disagree with me, but that game was just plain boring. And the BSU/Oregon game, what can I say? Nothing that went on after the game was okay. Not the taunting, not the hitting, not the freaking out. This is a prime example of why we need better mentoring. Really, these are children. At most they're 22 years old, at the least they're 18 or 19. Many of them have never had a role model hold them accountable for anything but their on-the-field actions. Mentoring mentoring mentoring. I had a long conversation last night about why it is SO important. Especially to kids who have been left behind to begin with. One consistant, positive, role model can make all the difference in the world.

Alright, just give me a minute while I climb down off this soapbox.

That being said, GO VOLS and GO HOOS. Woohoo football season!

p.s. If you're not from around here IFTIT means It's Football Time In Tennessee!

I Knew it Would Happen

I'm getting worse about posting. It's amazing. The busier I get and the more I have to write about, the less I feel like I need to be writing. I don't feel lost like I was feeling. I don't feel alone. I can tell you it all stems from a moment over the weekend (really the past five days in general). But this one moment meant the world to me. When his family asked M when he was moving down there, he replied, without skipping a beat, "In 14 months when Mel's done with this job."

The other night as I sat and listened to him get lost in music I had a Faulkner-ian stream of consciousness moment. And I wrote this:

Compromise

Can mean two very different things. You’re supposed to compromise when you’re young. It’s kind of like sharing. Being somewhere in the middle between where you want to be and where someone else wants to be. Compromise when you’re older means you’re giving something up for someone or something else. You compromise your morals, you compromise your dreams. You compromise the possibilities for your own future. Or maybe…maybe you go back and you compromise the same way you did when you were a kid. You compromise with someone or something to make something bigger or better than you had planned. But you have to have a medium. Your final wants can’t be so far apart that there’s not medium between the two. There’s a happy compromise.

I wrote it for me. It was a thought in my head and I put it into words. Not even eloquent words. Just statements to help me clear the echos of ideas from my head. M tried to peek over my shoulder while I was typing, but I stopped him. I told him I might change my mind later. When he asked me again, I reluctantly agreed. There's a big difference between sharing this with the internet where no one knows me and letting him read it. Especially when it is so explicitly about us. I didn't ask him what he thought, and he didn't offer his opinion, other than saying, "I'm glad you let me read that."

Then we talked about possibilities. Potential. The future. Our future. I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop, and the "our future" that I toss around in my head all day to not be anywhere close to the future that he has planned for himself. I'm starting to understand (after nearly a year) I can let my guard down. Our future is a mutual vision. Our future is a compromise that will lead us to something bigger and better than I could ever imagine. I'm scared of what people will say, of how this is going to affect the happiness of others who are invested in my well being. However, I'm on the doorstep of my 25th year and facing yet another year of dependency on my parents. Maybe it is time to take a leap toward compromise. It's not so much of a scary leap anyway, when you know who is waiting there to catch you.

Life on the Gulf

I'm at the beach. It's incredible. I'm staying in a million dollar condo for four nights for free. I'm watching M do what he loves. I'm eating so much seafood mercury poisoning is a real possibility. This is the life.

Fresh Air

I'm back and refreshed. I said more than once over the weekend that when I top Afton mountain coming into Cville I feel like I can breathe again. I went to see Annemieke, and meet her boyfriend of 3 years who I haven't even spoken to on the phone. In a world where people complain about the lack of intimacy in relationships because of the internet, I am so thankful for facebook for making me feel like I'm still part of her life. When we talk about what's new, it's not all a total surprise. Of course it is better to get all the juicy details in person.

Luckily, I got to see her parents and brother too. I love these wonderful people like my own family, and they treat me like I'm one of theirs. I even got to see my mom and dad who came down on Sunday to have breakfast and wander around grounds with me.

Aside from the people I got to see this weekend, the highlights of the trip were:

• Eating my way through Cville (as usual). This means I had Take it Away, Bilt, Bodo's, Southstreet, Mudhouse Coffee, Arch's, and the Tavern. I also took someone to eat at LJ's. I'm pretty sure I gained 5 lbs in three days. I'm pretty sure it was worth it.

• Private tour of Ashlawn in the rain, all because it cost $20 to go to Monticello.

• Apartment party with lots of red wine and salsa dancing. Seriously? When was the last time you were hanging out in a 2br apartment with a bunch of grad students and a full blown Latin dance club broke out? So fun.

• Dusting off my tour guide skills and talking about the history of UVA. I could go on forever, seriously, you wouldn't be able to shut me up.

• Finding M the perfect birthday present from the perfect store!

• Driving through Blacksburg (this is hard for me to type, we're supposed to hate those hokies) and having dinner & coffee with my bro on the night before his first day of classes!

Low lights of the trip were minimal, but:

• Getting rained on all day Saturday.

• Not being able to afford to walk the grounds of the home that belonged to the founder of my university. Mr. Jefferson would not like that at all.

• The driving part of my trip back (18 wheeler blowing a tire right in front of me, too tired, and then too hopped up on caffeine).

Next up? Finding and securing a place to live in my new town. But first, I think I'll go to the beach for a couple of days!

Reunited And It Feels So Good

This weekend I'm driving up to my old college stomping ground, Charlottesville, Va., to see my one of my very best friends, Mieke. My 1st year roommate & all around confidant is in the country for two weeks (she lives in Belgium now) and I was absolutely determined to see her! I'm beyond excited. I know we all have those relationships where distance and time really have no effect. This is one of those.

I told all of my friends from high school that I just knew my roommate would be some tall blonde who the boys fell all over. I was right, she's 6'1", beautifully blonde, not to mention foreign...What I didn't expect was how strong our connection would be. We lived together again the summer after 3rd year, before she moved back to Europe, and I've been waiting for her to come "home" ever since. I miss her all the time. But it is an amazing feeling to know that I have someone like her out there. If I needed her, she would be on the first plane, expenses be damned, and she knows I would do the same. We've been through everything together from the little things (general college stress) to the medium things (major break-ups) to the big things. You don't really know someone until you live with them, but I got to know her by living with her. I was one of those lucky ones who gained a forever-friend out of the random roommate drawing (thanks, UVA).

I'm also psyched about spending three days in Cville (the happiest place on earth). I'm bringing M back a t-shirt, it's about time he get inducted into this part of my life!

Midnight Krog, Part II

Yesterday I drove to Nashville (and back) to look for a place to live. After 12 solid hours in the car, I was deliriously tired. Not to mention still apartment-less. My poor legs were so swollen, I had to take a nice bubble bath just to calm down my joints. M came over after work and brought Madea Goes to Jail (so funny! Tyler Perry is hilarious.), and a bottle of red wine. Yeah, he knows me. Halfway through the movie, which was paused several times because we haven't had much facetime lately, he looks at me and says, "I'm hungry." If you know M, you know he's not really hungry all that often, but when he is, he means business! After a quick review (read: veto) of my cabinets, I said, "well, Kroger is open 24 hours." This is what we (he) bought:

Yesm, we did buy 2 bags of Tostitos. AND Cheetos. Carb-fest 09. Also, who would have thought the Krog at midnight on a Monday would be prime people-watching time? We saw six sorority girls in matching t-shirts carying a case of Miller Chill & piling into one small suv. We saw two groups of 19 year old fraternity guys, who were clearly underage and just hoping their horrible fakes would work better on the third-shifters (they did). On the way out of the grocery store we heard, and then saw, one guy yelling at nothing and throwing half-full cans of coke at the ground. Eventful.

M made two packs of ramen, and ate them straight out of the pot. I made rotel (a southern staple) and we both commented repeatedly that we should put it away, while dipping yet another chip. And we laughed. The whole time.

I love you, Midnight Krog.

Nine

My counter says 9. That means 8 different people (one hit was me) have, at the very least, been here. I know that there are very popular blogs out there that get hundreds of hits a day, and comparatively this is nothing. I still feel strangely connected. I'm not writing about fashion or politics (rest assured I have a lot to say on these topics). I'm writing about me.

I love Sundays for everything the represent. Relaxing, sleeping in, reflecting...and of course - postsecret. I wrote a postcard to send to Frank once, but before I could send it, my secret was revealed (don't worry it was a good secret :). Maybe I'll send one that says "I have a blog."

www.postsecret.com

Counting

"When I am troubled and I can't sleep, I count my blessings instead of sheep. And I fall asleep counting my blessings"

Bing Crosby was not a nice guy in real life, but I sure do love him in White Christmas.

Most of my posts have come late at night. One of the reasons is I feel like writing should be a wind-down, recap activity. The other reason is that when I've got a lot going on in my head I have a very hard time falling asleep. This post is going to be a list of all of the amazing things I have going for me. In no particular order...

1. My parents love me. We don't always see eye to eye. They don't support every decision I make (although they have been incredibly financially supportive lately). But, bottom line, they want the best for me and it comes from a place of love.

2. My little brother is my friend. After all these years of sibling spats (and we're good at those) we have finally arrived at a friendship. He gets life in my family like no one else ever will, and I hope that I do the same for him. Also, he lets me call him 'kiddo' (and take pictures like this one of him) even though he'll be 21 in March.

3. I have made incredible girlfriends in each of my life incarnations. My high school (mostly rowing) friends were the best sounding board, the best encouragement I could ask for. If it hadn't been for my college suitemates (plus one or two honorary 210s) I truly believe I would have left college and moved home. My friends here in Tennessee have been family when I had no one else, and bouyed me when my favorite words were, "I can't."

Lauz and Mieke, the loves of my life. Distance knows no bounds.

Jen. Her family is my family. Thank God for them.

Who wouldn't fall in love with these two?

4. I am so in love with my M, my heart grows like the Grinch's when I'm around him. I'm thankful he doesn't call me on the dopey expressions that he no doubtedly catches on my face on a regular basis. He's so smart and talented, and I am so blessed to have his love too.

5. I got a graduate degree for free. I'm not using it at the moment, but I will someday. And If I don't...well it was free.

6. In October I am starting my first 40-hour-a-week job doing something that I am passionate about. I waited a long time to find something that I would love doing. It's not in the right city, but I can work around that for now. (A wise man told me that when I'm 80, this will have been 1/80th of my life.)

7. I'm creative. Not to toot my own horn too much, but I love to do creative things and I think I'm pretty good at it. I make jewelry, paint, refinish, decorate, photograph, sew...Really anything that lets me see things in an artistic light makes me happy.

I painted this.

Those are the biggies. I bet dollars to dimes I sleep much better tonight.

She's With the Band

I'm not a particularly jealous girlfriend. Yes, I get those pangs when other girls hover around M, but I really think they come from a different place. I worry from time to time that I'm not quite enough, that a better girl will come along and that will be it. This is a totally irrational worry (as most of mine are). Not because I'm the perfect girl (this is for SURE not true), but because he reassures me constantly, with words and actions, that he's not looking for anything else.

Part of why I get to have these moments of inadequacy more often is because of M's chosen profession. He plays in a band. They're awesome, by the way (www.homemadewinemusic.com). But the girls. I had some great friends from college who play in a band. We always used to go out to see them play and make fun of the college girls who threw themselves at the stage. This is even better. I go to about 2/3rds of the shows they play here in town, and I can spot an interested girl from a mile away. "HE'S cute," they shout to their friends above the din. Then they make their way over to dance right in front of him and make mooney eyes up at him. Now, he's not the only one that gets individual attention. Each of them have their own obsessed fans. But in the case of M in particular, I want to say, "waste of time, girls. I tried that tactic for moooonths before he finally noticed me. Oh, wait, what I meant to say was, he has a girlfriend..."

All this being said, I do understand that part of being a successful band is working a crowd. Part of working a crowd full of women is leaving the suggestion that they could get somewhere. We've had this conversation before. The one where he assures me (without prompt) that while the first words out of his mouth might not be, "I have a girlfriend" (duh, how weird would that be? Those aren't the first words out of my mouth when I meet a guy either), he knows--as any great boyfriend does--where to draw the line. So, as long as the girls keep dropping a couple of dollars in the tip bucket, I won't say a word. Those tips take me out on dates ;).

Love/Hate

I love going to the grocery store at midnight. It's awesome. At my local Krog that's when they put out the fresh produce (Strawberries for 1.88!). There are no cutesy shopping-for-dinner-together couples who make me want to barf (even though I've been party to this). Also, I think that's when the nicest people work. Three people asked me if I need any help, and two offered to take my basket for me when I was done with it.

I hate it when they're out of one of the 7 basics I need. This means I have to go back the next day. Out of Skim Milk this time, boo. I get that it's shelf restocking time, but come on. Pull the old stuff and stock the new stuff - right away. How hard is that?

Name Calling

I have been called an, "old soul." I have to say I take this as a great compliment. When I was working in child care, the "old soul" kids were always my favorite to be around. If you don't know what this means, picture a child who might not even be verbal yet, who, unlike the other kids (that claw and explore and get in spats with each other) sits and watches everything. This child is curious in a way that would not kill the cat. For the most part, observation is their strongest ally. He or She (usually she) always appears to be in the process of understanding something on a level that is way to deep for the current developmental stage. I love those kids.

However (the downside), I usually end up feeling like the most responsible person in the room. I figure this will end at some point, although stories my mom tells about her peers makes me think this might not be true. I told M last night, I often think to myself, "You guys would be doing all kinds of stupid s%!$ if I wasn't sitting here." He agreed.

Good Friends

My anxiety level progressed to 100x worse than it was when I posted last. The night before last I slept maybe 3 solid hours without waking up & feeling like I was about to throw up/have a heart attack. Pretty dramatic, huh? The good news is last night I had plans to hang out with a friend and while I was laying on her couch I nearly nodded off a few times. When I got up to pick up my stuff and go home, I could feel that old anxiety boiling up inside me. It's like a pressure cooker. I just looked at her, and she said, "I'll bring you a pillow, you can sleep here tonight." I was so grateful. I know I wouldn't have slept nearly as well at home. And although I woke myself up more than a few times throughout the night, I'm sure that I got a lot closer to 7 hours just sleeping on her futon. And today I feel better. And tomorrow I'll feel better than today. And the next day I'll feel even better. And eventually I'll be fine & back to normal. It's been a while since I've had one of these all consuming periods of anxiety. It caught me off guard this time, but I know I'll get back on my feet.

It has struck me that this blog has taken on a bit of a whiney tone...Something must be done about this. I'll do my best to pull myself together and make a change. I can be more than just whiney, I can be witty too! (At least I think so :) )

(I Y xkcd - http://xkcd.com/313)

Self Diagnosis

If you've never been an anxious person, you probably have no idea how stressful situations can be all consuming. I am often told (while chuckling) that I need to calm down or relax. I hear, "you need to chill out," all the time. Ususally when someone says this to me I laugh it off with them. "You're right," I say, "I'm fine, just over thinking it." It's easy for me to put it off this way infront of other people. It's easy to say, but this is what it feels like: My muscles hurt (particularly my shoulders and back) because I'm tensed up constantly. I have a lump in my throat, the kind you get when you're going to throw up or cry. And finaly I feel like I'm on the fringes of a migrane all the time.

Here's the thing, these feelings can be brought on by small or large worries. And newsflash: If I've made the effort to actually come out and tell you what's worrying me, laughing at me or rolling your eyes and telling me I'm overreacting is not helpful. I already know I'm overreacting. What I need to hear is that whatever I'm scared of is not going to happen, or will work out, etc.

We all have our own reactions to stress. Some of us have mean moments toward those around us (I have those on occasion), some check out on the rest of the world (yep, done that too), some eat, some don't eat (that's me), some overshare, and some hold it in (I'm in the middle on that one). The good news for me is that I have an incredible support system who know me very well. They (mom, dad, brother, boyfriend, good friends) are incredibly adept at talking me down. Perhaps because they have to do it so often. I'm not always so bad but I definitely have my moments, mostly in times of transistion, where I just need someone to make it better for me. I would have a hard time believing that no one else shares that feeling. I'm trying a new outlet with this writing thing. I'm still in the, "we'll see how it goes," stage.