Engagement

A long time ago, in a land not so far away, but in a much younger version of myself I had this idea of what it would be like to be engaged. Granted, in my young mind, I envisioned being a princess and had daydreams of a prince charming on a white horse and what not. However, I never got so far as to have my wedding planned out in my head. I figured out early on that such a thing was silly. Furthermore, anyone who rode up to me on a white horse and asked me to marry them would definitely be something I would find so odd that I would probably just run away and hide and possibly change my phone number.

After that stage, I had never really thought about it. Sure, I had some thoughts on how nice it would be to find someone I could connect with and travel my life with, but such a thing got moved very far down my list after other things came up in my life. It’s not that I thought I didn’t deserve it or that I had this idea that all men are evil or anything. I just figured in real life, this day and age, to be swept off your feet is truly something only found in fairy tales.

To my great surprised, I was wrong on so many counts. Yes, it’s true; a relationship is something you work on. This notion that a person is just going to pop up in your life and be perfect from the beginning and will always seem perfect is unreal. That part is true. However, what is also true is the happiness that comes from finding someone you can be with and honestly say you could be with them forever. The peace they bring in your life, the happiness that comes from being with someone who actually understands and accepts you. A person who thinks you are beautiful and believes in you, who shares similar goals and beliefs, enough that you can always find common ground between you. It’s amazing how much joy comes from such a relationship.

As happy as I have been, I have also been very scared. I guess I am to some degree because such a commitment is scary. However, primarily I’ve been scared for an entirely different reason: I’m afraid people who have known me in my life, my family, my friends will not share in my happiness. My fear comes from the fact that I often get compared to who I was, a very long time ago, when I was a very goal driven, workaholic. I would go to school, come home and spend hours studying all in effort to have an opportunity to advance my education, something I had dreamed about since I even knew what a University was.

However, I learned that there is so much to learn about this world and life that cannot be learned in a classroom, not even in a university classroom. It was difficult, but in a nutshell I had to accept that while my goal to advance my education had stayed the same, the way I wanted to, no, needed to acquire it had to change in order be successful. No, of course this may seam like a simple thing, but you would be surprised. People in my life have been oddly very quick to judge. It’s for this reason that I’ve been afraid. I’m not living a life that they have either wanted me to live or in other cases thought I would want.

Things change, and now I have. I’m now engaged. It’s funny. I find myself looking in the mirror and saying to me like a proclamation, “This is what an engaged person looks like.” Of course I follow this up with, “I don’t look any different.” I don’t know what I was expecting; maybe I thought I would glow with joy or something? I have no idea, but it’s funny to me that what is finally convincing people back home that I’m really okay with myself is my engagement, something that causes no change in myself and all the things that did bring me great change have gone completely unnoticed by them. Oh well, at least now I can finally share a piece of my happiness with them and that alone brings a huge smile on my face.

Aww, but I liked my punching bag....

It’s one thing to have internal demons since it can be a private matter, one that you spend a little bit of time on again and again until you can make peace with it. However, when the pain, the sadness and the anger involve experiences that were shared with another it’s so difficult to make peace since to do so often requires understanding what happened and learning what you can from it. That kind of perspective can only really occur with discussion from both (or all) parties. I'm not talking group therapy or anything but rather a way to remind yourself that this so called evil ex friend or significant other is simply a human (just like you, not a devil spawn or anything) that has qualities you greatly dislike or don't function well around or they don't function well around you, or whatever the reason(s).

That kind of analysis, as painfully as it can be, provides a way to assure yourself that you won’t make the same mistakes and while you may have burned a bridge or two, lost some connections with some really fantastic people along your path, you sleep well knowing that you learned what you could, you’re moving on and feel confident that you won’t make the same mistakes and will be able to hold on to the next friend or lover you find in your life.

It’s with this understanding that I have decided that the only people I really, honestly, truly have a hard time finding goodness in are those who refuse to help others with this kind of closure. They cut off contact entirely from people, preventing peace. I know it’s an odd concept and that most would say that closure comes from not communicating, but does it really? It’s only after being apart from someone for a while that you begin to realize that there is so much you did not ask, forgot to say, need to say, wonder about.

Yes, it’s true, when you end a relationship with someone, it’s probably good to have a period where you don’t speak so you can get it through your head that it’s over, at least that type of connection is. However, why don’t people stop, remove the jealously hate stick from their butts and realize how much good could come from some type of contact? Even if there was some kind of issue in regards to pain, why not communicate via email? If you can’t talk to them that day, ignore it, sleep on it, wait a few weeks, and then respond, when you can do so without words of hate and meanness. What harm comes from this exactly? I’m finding out that very little does and I’m sad that I couldn’t keep contact with more people. You’d think with social networking sites it would be easy to reconnect, but alas, I can’t.

I guess for all those unsolvable issues there is chocolate. Yay, chocolate!!

Mallrats

As much as I don't want to really to admit I've been hanging out at malls, there's only so much to do during the winter up here in Maine when there isn't beautiful snow to admire. It comes as no surprise I'm sure that most of the people wondering the mall are teenagers. I know, a shocker, right? It's sad though, that despite this fact, there isn't a whole lot there for them to do. In general, there isn't a lot for that age group to do anywhere actually. BUT, how hard would it be to include things in a mall that would be fun for that age group that would not involve spending money? Whoever owns the mall has to make a killing on renting out the store spaces, so why not take some of the store areas and turn them into something like exhibits or interactive games? I know by that age, the last thing they want to do is learn something, but surely older, wiser folks could come up with a way to trick them into doing something more productive then hiding in corners of the mall making out with their boyfriends/girlfriends of the moment and stealing things out of boredom. Just a thought. :)

If You're Tired From Biking, There's Always A Gold Chair To Sit On.

There are these signs all around where I live and I have been too embarrassed to ask someone what they meant. At first I thought they meant, well, here, let me show you what they look like:

Now, what would you think they meant? Yes, exactly. In actuality, they are signs for the Eastern Trail. It’s a route you can fallow all along the Eastern coast by bike or foot, whatever floats your boat.

I find these signs incredibly amusing because I look at them and wonder what the goal was of the design. If it was simply to inform, would it look like that? It almost seems like they wanted people to notice them, even those who are driving past just like I have. In that case, wouldn’t they be more like an advertisement since they are so eye catching? Also, in a way, they are persuasive, yet another way they are more like an advertisement.

At least that question of mine got solved today, now if only I could figure out why there is a large golden chair and footstool in front of a building near downtown. The footstool is taller than me; the chair looked like it was two stories tall. When I say large, I mean LARGE. The off season for tourism and activities is now, around Christmas, even the museums are closed. I also can’t figure out what the building is and it’s interesting that it’s at the intersection of Rice Street and Love Lane which leads of Government Ave.

So there you have it, further proof that I am not supposed to live a normal life. Well, at least I’ll never get bored, which makes me happy.

The Glass Is Really Half Full

There is something very nice about going to someplace and taking all the time in the world. I once went to a museum while on vacation by myself and read every single title plaque or exhibit description. It wasn’t a very large museum, but I was there for four hours. I did my best to take in the moment, understanding I was on vacation there and would never come back. It’s hard to do that kind of thing when you are with someone else or on a date because you’re often more interested in the person than your surroundings.

I know I have heard from lots of people how they can’t do something without someone to go with them or it wouldn’t be any fun. There are even people whom only do things when they are with someone else. It’s like there’s a law some where that says you can’t go to a zoo by yourself. What’s the deal? In some situations, I can understand the safety issue. It’s probably not a good idea to go rock climbing alone, or in my case, go swimming by myself, so there are situations. However, why do so many people hide from experiences simply because they do not have someone to share them with? What are people afraid of exactly?

The Aliens Attack

This morning I awoke to lots of lights in my room coming from outside. There were no sirens or anything so in my half awaken state I thought that we were being attacked by aliens. Granted, it probably didn’t help that I watched the movie War of the Worlds last night. Regardless, I felt so brave at 5:30 this morning sneaking to my window and looking out, expecting to, well, I don’t know, it made sense in my half awaken state. To my surprise, they were actually snow plowing my little, tiny street at that hour. Talk about service, in my home town of Lawrence we were always thankful if they got the major highways plowed by rush hour, but I guess here they mean business. I imagine no one ever calls into work and says their running late because the roads are bad.

Sigh. I keep forgetting to invest in a snow shovel. I guess in some small room of my brain it was decided that I could prevent winter from coming if I just was ready yet. I now have a drive way that will be a total nightmare to get out of, but if I can slide out into the street and not hit the mailboxes, I should be fine. I also do have lots of hot chocolate and marshmallows. I also have the internet, Netflix and the complete collection of Charles Dickens, so I’m fine.

Now, if I can only convince the gods to bring back sunshine and my wonderful, amazing sailor, life would be alright.

(I’d forgive them for this whole snow business before Christmas thing.)

The English Connection

I can remember a time when I was much younger and beginning to take an interest in the history of my family. I can remember realizing that, well, of course, my family didn’t always speak English, followed of course by the odd noise I make in my head that basically sounds like, duh. Anyway, continuing with my thoughts on language and communication, it seemed acceptable to note some of my thoughts on the United States and its history of a common language, although, not “official.”

Yes, it’s probably safe to make the general statement that we are a country of immigrants. In fact, this is such a part of our culture that we hardly identify ourselves as American. Rather, it’s I’m German, Swiss, English and so forth. Even when you read American celebrity profiles you can find out where their family emigrated from. It is sometimes mentioned as an actress of Italian heritage or of Irish stock. What is absolutely amazing about this country is how even though most people have retained a sense of pride about their heritage, within a generation, if that long, you speak English. There’s this story that gets told over and over again, in my family, how when my great grandfather first came to the United States he took the train down the St. Louis. By the time he got there he could say, “Fuck You,” “Song of Bitch,” “Dimmit,” and every other curse word you need to know to defend yourself against the welcoming citizens of the United States. What can I say? This country has a long history of having mixed feelings about immigrants.

Now, I simply mention this for two reasons. First, what currently is taking place, with the fact that people are choosing to permanently relocate here is not some new problem that only occurred as of our generation, nor is the fact, that as a whole, we are not as welcoming as we could be to our new neighbors. This trend has been occurring for, oh, I don’t know, since the very, very beginning of this country’s history. A better question might be, when did this not go on? My second reason is to share, or rather remind that we all have noticed how much information is being presented in more than one language in this country.

Seriously, name one other thing that connects this people of this country, something that connects every single family, name one other one. I honestly do not think there is anything other than the language of English. Unfortunately, we live in a world where people really need to speak more than one language, and maybe in a generation, three or four, so it seems natural to want to present information in more than one language. However, this creates an issue where people may only choose and can get by with knowing some language other than English and then that is when this country will begin to be divided, the very moment we can not communicate with each other. The day we need a translator in Congress so that get things done, that’s when it will get ugly. Yes, it’s true, it probably won’t happen any time in the near future, but it wouldn’t surprise me if my grandchildren had to deal with this.

White Fuzzy Dice

Being a Kansas girl comes with its stereotypes, one of which is the belief that I have always owned a car and know how to drive (cars, trucks, tractors, etc.). There are people in this world (mainly those from Missouri) whom believe that being from Kansas I am a horrible driver, but let me assure you, there are some prize drivers up there in the North East. Yes, it’s true, they all come from New Jersey.

While my boyfriend has a wonderful, much newer car for his adventures, which I should note, he deserves and pays a lot of money for; I have a delightful red truck. I’ve named it Clyde, it’s awesome. It’s three different colors of red and if you floor it and are going down hill, he may even reach sixty miles per hour traveling speed. It’s a great car for me to have while I remind myself how this whole driving thing works. If you saw it you would understand how it matches my personality quite well.

The world through the eyes of a driver is so much different than as a passenger. At least, I notice different things. The first thing I noticed is that I may very possibly own the oldest car the whole area. Granted, I may just be the bravest person in the area to drive an almost twenty year old truck, but I’m just saying, it’s the first thing I noticed. I’ve also come to realize that my biggest issue is this whole parking thing, which is really funny considering a heck of a long time ago I had a part time job issuing parking tickets. I think it may very well be karma biting my butt, so when I do finally get a ticket for being parked outside of the lines I’ll know I had it coming.

Yesterday, my truck and I went on a big adventure, all the way to a Walmart and a job interview. (I know, VERY exciting.) Outside of a driver’s education course I took when I was fourteen, I had never driven on the highway and hate bridges with such a passion that I have always avoided them, especially during weather where the temperature likes to hobble back and forth around freezing, so it’s impossible to know when there’s ice on the bridges. Here in Maine, that’s the only type of weather we know around here, so I was a little worried and scared of driving so I was extra cautious and took routes with slower speed limits, just to be on the safe side.

Now, if you’ve read my previous rant, you would know how I have had a difficult time communicating, much less relating to my new statesmen so at a stoplight in New Hampshire, when I looked over and saw a woman driving a white station wagon, almost as old as my truck, with the fake wood paneling I was so very happy. She even had fuzzy dice hanging from her mirror, from my height in the truck I could see some of the contents of some of her car and could tell she was my kind of person. It was a wonderful moment, she never saw me and since her car wasn’t quite as old as my truck, she sped off and I thought that would be the last I saw of her.

I saw her again, later that afternoon. It was a very chilling, sad sight. I didn’t see her actually; I saw her car, fuzzy dice and all, smashed, along the highway in a very nasty accident. While I was at my interview we heard lots and lots of sirens. It was very troubling, but the relief that comes from not knowing anyone is not to worry when the sirens go off. It’s not like back home where if they were near you then you’d peek out the window, just to make sure the neighbors where safe (and to be nosey). It was one of those back to reality moments for me. Sometimes when I get stressed and busy I ignore what’s going on around me that doesn’t involve me directly just to simply focus on what’s at hand. I’ve pretty much been doing that since I’ve moved to Maine. The sight of the wreck changed all that though and reminded me how little control we sometimes have over what little time we get to spend with people. I didn’t even know her name and yet she changed my whole day so much. Funny how that happens sometimes. It also makes me wonder if I have ever had that much impact on someone.

Mainglish

I have long been fascinated by how people communicate. I imagine that had my life worked out slightly differently, I would have studied linguistics and could speak five languages by now. Instead, English is the only one I really know, and at times I wonder if I really should even make that claim.

When I first arrived here, I noticed the surrounding nature and culture. I would at times get so giddy I would make squeaky noises and dance at the thought of being so close to beaches to ocean gaze, mountains to hike, new food to try, and a foreign country to visit even. Not that Canada is really all that exciting, but just in case I get really bored, it’s an option. The thought never occurred to me that I would have difficulty communicating with people.

It’s not a problem with dialect and if anything, I am the one with an accent. People here sound like the characters you might find on television. They sound like Americans. I’m the oddball for saying yer instead of your. I like to ask people, “What’s yer phone number?” I get lots of looks. I concluded early on that my issue with communicating with the locals was not one of pronunciation. I can understand every word that a Mainer speaks to me; I just don’t understand what they are talking about.

When I can ask someone a simple question like: “What methods of payment do you accept?” or “Do you have any LED lights?” or “What paperwork do I need to bring with me when I get my driver’s license?” I get a response, they use words, they are English words, but all I can do is tilt my head and give a look of confusion. Often, I ask for things in writing, “Do you have a handout explaining that?” Even then, I usually walk out of an office with three more handouts than I need because it wasn’t until they gave me the fourth one that I had my question answered.

Even when my boyfriend and I both are present, it still does no good. We come back home and compare what we heard and still have no idea what was said to us. We’ve even tried negotiation by word order. For example, at the hospital billing window, we tried a line of questioning like: “What amount do I owe you?” “Do I need to pay anything now?” “Would you like for me to pay now?” “What amount would you like for me to pay you?” “Do I owe you any money today?” “Can we get a bill?” “Do you have my mailing address?” “When will you bill me?” The reply to all of the answers was something like this: “You can pay today, if you want, we ask for fifty percent down, but you don’t have to. We will bill you, after the insurance, it looks like they’ll pay more than fifty percent, you can wait, until after they pay, but we would like it if you pay, the fifty percent of course, today, at the hospital, you don’t have to….” After a while, when she took a breath, each time we asked what that amount would be, an estimate even, if we did pay, what amount would I pay here and she cycled right back to “Well, you can pay today, but….” We stood there for quite awhile. Even if my life depended on it, I would not know what to make the check out to, what amount to write or to which person to give it to, not even which department nor did I leave there with an account number to reference if I needed to call back and ask about something. After a couple of weeks I got a letter in the mail with an account number, my name and date that they saw me and a note saying they were going to bill my insurance company at some point in the next thirty to forty-five days. Again, no dollar amount. I still have no idea what that visit cost.

At times I feel I need a notepad and just write things like: Me want this book (draw arrow to left hand holding book) Me pay you. (Hand person a 20 dollar bill) Give me change. I want receipt. Of course, even if I did that they would probably still be confused. I’d get a receipt that would be for a Mocha Frappachino and all of my change in quarters. I have never felt a bigger urge in all of my life to just simply order everything I need online and have it mailed to my house just so I don’t have to deal with people. Sadly, here in Maine I have to pay sales tax and if I drive a couple miles into New Hampshire then I don’t. Unless I get really rich, I’m going to have to keep talking to these people.

For the time being I talk to people using phrasing found in most early twentieth century writing like in the Narnia Chronicles. It seems to have worked. Now people return my phone calls and I have job interviews. I had one today and it went really well. I guess I need to talk like I’m trapped in a novel. I wonder if that’s why people call this place vacationland and say it’s the way life should be. Should we all be trapped in books? I guess so according to New Englanders.

Maybe it's the water

Before moving up north, I had been told by many people that in their opinion I was both non-judgmental and open minded. I had been led to believe I had a fairly decent grasp of how things worked despite never really escaping for college or studying abroad or anything else of that nature. Sadly, that whole image was rocked last week when I woke up with an attack of pain so vicious that had I also woken up back in the caveman era of time, I would have gladly taken some sharp rock and jabbed myself at the painful area of my body and removed organs until I was in less pain.

Luckily, I wasn't home alone. While I rolled up into a little ball on the bathroom floor alternating between hugging a pillow and the toilet, depending on which direction my fever sent me, he made calls. I'm used to being a short drive and a waiting room away from seeing someone. On the off chance that I couldn't, say a large percentage of people came down with the flu or something, then there was always walk-in prompt care clinics and such. Even in the inner Kansas City there was a day clinic. Back home people complained if they had to wait a whole day until they could see someone. With that said, you can imagine my surprise when not only could no doctor in the area see me, but that they weren't accepting patients. That's right, there are so few physicians in the area that they cannot even accept any more patients.

I ended up calling my physician's office back in Lawrence, whom rightly told me to go to the emergency room. It's still very odd to me how the nearest emergency room is in New Hampshire. Back home, Kansans didn't dare go over to Missouri for care and vise-versa. Regardless, it is so noted that I was here a grand total of eight days before learning where the nearest hospital is. Insert jokes here.

Why is it that the smaller the town, the slower the emergency room? Also, doctors and nurses in small town emergency rooms are less impressed with injuries. They don't panic, there's never any reason to. It's very odd since in small towns, the latest bit of gossip will get the pants of all waded up into a bun, but if someone is attacked by a wild, furious squirrel, no one really says anything besides the fact it happened. It's like there's this understanding and acceptance that in life, to a certain degree, these things are bound to happen. It's always the "tough" gang bangers of the inner city whom brag about how many gun shot and knife wounds they have "survived." In small towns it's, remember how stupid Jim Bob was for provoking that squirrel and standing to close to Billie Ray when he was loading his gun? Scars of such nature in small area are a sign of stupidity, not bravery.

I guess it's a good thing that I didn't act all caveman like and went to the emergency room. There is something very odd and twisted in the fact that it took a small town doctor in New Hampshire with a very heavy New England accent to figure out that all of these years I've been dealing with kidney stones. It's also very odd that my follow up appointment with a specialist (not a physician) that should have been just seven days from my ER visit, is actually next month, and that was after the scheduler, rearranged things so that they could fit me in.

I can only imagine how it must be to live in rural Maine up north from where I live. Clearly, I should never live in such a place since my body refuses to operate at some state of efficiency for any period of time. As my sister has pointed out, maybe I should just become the bionic woman and start replacing organs with artificial ones. It may actually be cheaper. Until that happens, I think I'll stay away from the true wilderness and start propaganda quietly teaching people to fear the squirrels.

Goodbye Kansas, Hello Maine.

I have heard many people tell me over the last couple of weeks how difficult it must be, how stressful it must be, and how brave I must be for moving across the country. For one, technically, I didn't move across the country, I was already half way across, residing in Kansas. For another, things are often more easy to do than to think about it. For instance, it's much easier to buy a plane ticket, pack boxes, mail boxes, go to airport, get on plane, get off plane, navigate around an airport, catch next plane and walk off plane into arms of Maine than it is to think about it. In case you were wondering, that's my big secret, for a few days, including the day I did wake up and catch a plane out of Kansas City, I did my best to live in the moment. If you string them together, it creates this story of moments:

Waking up at three thirty in the morning is never the best way to start a day, nor is twisting my ankle while trying to load up the SUV with my luggage in dark a grand way either. However, the drive to the airport, the empty highway, the eerie darkness created an grandeur only a traveler could love. It represented my peaceful transition. I wasn't running away, I was leaving.

It was my grandmother who volunteered to drive me to the airport and she choose to wait with me while they searched my luggage. We commented on how difficult it must be for the security officer to stuff everything back in my lavender suitcase. I, after all, have a reputation of stuffing things in containers finer than any pack rat, and this packaging job was no exception. We made small talk, a few jokes, the content of which I cannot recall. Behind her smile was that of pride, behind mine was that of relief. I felt I was finally, after a long last, getting on with my life.

As I was gracefully lifted off the ground by the aircraft I looked out and could see each individual street lamp, each traffic light, the headlights of each traveling car. I know in time it was a just a few minutes, but that sight, the layers of light, the patchwork of dull colors lasted in my mind for several hours. Through out the day I simply closed my eyes and thought about that moment, followed by the sun rising, the bands of color it created in the atmosphere and recaptured some joy, almost as if I could contain it in a jar.

The landing at Washington Reagan was scary, it seemed at first as if we had landed on water, only to realized it was the furthest runway. My fear left quickly once I realized that from my seat I could see the doom of Congress, the Washington monument, the Jefferson Memorial and the Watergate Hotel as the plane was taxing to it's gate. My lay over was interesting to say the least. It involved two buses. Sadly, due to cloud cover, I could not see the eastern coast as I flew up to Portland. Outside my window was just a sea of white and as the plane descended, I wondered if we were just descending into an abyss. As we lowered beneath the clouds, a cross wind made the plane fished tail the whole way, into the landing. I could tell it was cold rain that was pouring down my window, I could just sense it.

As I walked off the plane and up the ramp there was a sign hanging from the ceiling that read "Welcome Home" with a red lobster off to the side. Since that moment, I have indeed, felt like I was home. It's different somehow, it brings a new kind of peace than my hometown, or my college apartment. It also brings new freedom and opportunity.

Also, as an added bonus, I live less than a hundred yards from this:

Granted, come winter, it won't be as pretty, but for right now, it's quite a sight.

Downtown Charleston

Every other time I’ve gone downtown I’ve just stayed in a small three or four block area, but for my last visit, we ventured out and really explored the area. It was quite a sight. I know that there are a lot of wealthy people in Charleston. I needed no other indication then the many Hummer H2 and H3 vehicles that I see on an almost daily basis. However, I now have several more reasons to add to the list.

There is so much to the area, mainly, clothes, expensive clothes, and more expensive clothes. There is also antiquing, if that’s your thing. It’s such a bizarre sight to see beautiful, historic, colorful buildings being the homes to luxury line products. My first impression of the place is that each store should be some locally owned mom and pop kind of place and it struck me off guard, that even in a place as unique at historic downtown Charleston, American consumerism wins out. It’s kind of sad really. As you drive towards the area you pass a sign that says “Charleston: All American City.” Well, I guess they got that right; you can’t get any more all American than block after block of store after store.

We did find a luxury chocolate store. I have never spent so much money so few pieces of chocolate, but it was definitely worth it. I’m beginning to think that maybe the wealthy have good taste or at least good taste when it comes to lovely chocolate. I was about to just let that comment go as simply good taste, but then I remembered the really large, tacky chancellor that I saw in the hotel we walked through and had add an additional two cents to the comment. Why is it necessary again to have stores inside the hotel? It was an odd sight as well. Are there really people whom would fly out to Charleston only to never leave the hotel? Maybe people just forget to buy a new outfit before they get down here so it’s convenient to have a Gucci store downstairs so you can pick up a new purse before any one sees you in public.

There is only so much window shopping one can do in an afternoon. (No, I didn’t have the guts to walk into Saks Fifth Avenue wearing my target clothes.) We ended up going through all the antique stores. We didn’t really have any business in those shops either, but the people who run them are really friendly and as long as you look like you aren’t going to randomly break stuff, they’ll let you stand there and fondle old books to your heart’s content. It was a nice outing. After several hours and talking to people I really started to appreciate antiquing and why people spend their own life in that line of work. It was really quite fascinating. It is so much more than owning a piece of history because almost every item has its own history. When tend to think of history as simple big events, but walking through a bunch of antique shops reminded me that there were so many little events too. Yes, it’s important to have historic districts and preserve the locations of important events in our history, but there is something to be said for also taking care of the furniture that existed in a local home during the civil war or turn of the century brass buttons.

I guess it’s possible to get too carried away. You can’t really preserve everything. I wonder if we’ll ever reach a point where we think enough is enough and are more selective about what is preserved and what isn’t. I wonder if a group of people will sit down at some point and reevaluate all of that and decide that it’s okay to bulldoze Rainbow Row and make way for a different kind of development that would suit the needs of the people better. At some point, it will happen. Things only last for so long. It’s because if that thought I ended my day thinking that the small things in those antique shops were even more important because I would imagine it will be the small things like silver serving spoons or snuff boxes that will last longer. After all, it’s easy to have a museum exhibit of old civil war weapons, but it’s difficult to imagine that people in the distant future are going to go visit a museum and see an exhibit of original, colonial houses (it’s not like they are easy to transport) so when they tare them down, they’ll be gone for good, but people will probably always be able to see bits and pieces and from that try to imagine what it would have been like to live in years that have already past.

Holy Sheez Batman! I'm an Average Woman!!

It’s so strange. I have never had the problem where I felt inadequate and I’m starting to notice what women look like on magazine covers more, which such a bad thing since they touch up every last one, but I can’t seem to stop myself. I’m starting to think I’m fat and while it helps to go to the beach in a bikini and see lots of people who look worse in one than me, by the time I get home, I am all self concisions again. I’m noticing every little imperfection about my body. It’s really starting to freak me out.

It also doesn’t help that I am technically over weight. It’s sad, I know it doesn’t look it, but when you’re a short five feet four inches and have a tiny, small ass frame for a body, you really aren’t suppose to weigh more than about 130 pounds. It’s sad, but it’s the truth. You know what else is weird? While I’m very uncomfortable in my skin right now, I really, really value my health and feel guilty for not wanting to eat well and exercise on a regular basis earlier in my life. “My poor heart,” is what I think to myself. For the last few years it’s been working overtime and I wonder what it would say to me if it could talk.

Because of my whole weight and healthy eating obsession of the moment I have taken more notice to diet and health data that has crossed my path. I’ve concluded that what makes the most sense to me is that everyone is different, so why are people trying to create a one diet fits all kind of program. I know this in recent times has a been a running theme of mine, how it’s very unlikely there is really a universal any way of doing any thing since all people are different, BUT, it’s still true. We are not all meant to eat the same exact diet, eat the same amount of food and exercise the same way. That’s right, there isn’t a one exercise program fits all either.

Being me and accepting me as unique is such hard work. In order to be really successful and happy I’m going to need to take more notes and understand myself better. However, I hardly doubt I’m the only one with this kind of problem. Most people have to deal with this reality as some point in their lives. I also think it’s fairly normal for someone my age too and that thought is really the only thing that is comforting me right. I can’t help but laugh at that fact. Yes, the thought that is providing me the most comfort as I am going through the crisis of trying to discover how to change and personalize my life habits to make ME and only ME happier is that I’m having a life experience and moment of maturity which I have in common with most EVERYONE that walks the planet. Funny how that works, yes?

Walking With Red Slipper Pride

I’m beginning to think that it is common for people on some level resist change. It’s not individual people though, whole cities, communities, countries, cultures, you name it. Anything involving people resists change. I always figured that was a bad thing. I was in a big rush to grow up and leave town just to end up somewhere that wasn’t interested in fast growth. However, I’m really beginning to enjoy living in the South. I love how people here are not scared of each other. They are not afraid to start a conversation with you at the grocery store or at the DMV. It’s not weird to be friendly here. I really enjoy that. I love how I can go for a morning walk and run into people who are sitting outside with their coffee and I can just stand there and talk to them for a good fifteen minutes before it seems at all weird. I also love Southern hospitality. I tend to be very trusting and open with people, which is something that gets me in trouble most other places.

It just fit in well here. The lifestyle and culture is different enough that I don’t think I would get bored with it any time soon and I don’t feel like I have act differently out in public, put on a face as it were, like I have to do back home. I guess the biggest change I have been resisting is the change that has occurred within me. That’s always a hard one. I need to stop running away from myself and just be, just exist and here, for whatever odd reason, I can do that. It’s easy to live here, there’s no force about it. I introduce myself and it means something. For the first time, when I open my mouth, honesty just comes out. I’m beginning to develop some pride down here. It’s a Southern thing; it’s rubbing off on me. People down here are proud, they may at times be arrogant, or confused, or to the rest of the country seem backwards, conservative, behind the times, but you have to give people one thing, they are very proud.

It’s an odd thing. I know that my self-esteem is shot. A lot of change has happened to me, but somehow at the same time I’m very happy and comfortable. I think this picture from the local beach illustrates it best. Look at the people in this picture. I am like these people. I am not like the people in the Midwest who shop at cabala's and even when they are on vacation own things that go well together. I have heard people tell me that people in the Midwest have no fashion. Well, they do, but everyone wears jeans and t-shirts. Plain. Plain. Plain. I need to live somewhere where I can express myself, like this lady is doing with her umbrella. You see? I belong in the south. If I owned an umbrella like that, I'd take it out in public and I would be proud of it. In short, while there is no place like home, Dorothy needs to wear her red slippers.

Yet Another Ocean Trip

Recently I returned to the beach to yet again attempt to overcome my fear of floating. All the previous times I went to the beach there were hardly any people there, but this time, it was the classic beach scene: there were the chairs, the umbrellas, the really hot people in swimsuits and the not so hot people in swimsuits, there was the ultra hot sand and the whole time I couldn’t help but think of the famous Calvin and Hobbs strip where Calvin complains the whole time. Being from the land locked state of Kansas, it was quite an experience.

My first thought while in the ocean was that it really wanted to eat me and it was going to the first chance it got. In my mind it was just waiting for the moment when my boyfriend wouldn’t be watching me and then WHAM!! A big wave was going to just appear and swallow me. If that wasn’t traumatic enough, my boyfriend insisted that I attempt not only floating, but also body surfing. The whole time, I was frightened. I panicked a lot I think I must have screamed in horror a few times because even though the beach was quite crowed, before too long people gave me LOTS of space. No one was anywhere near us. I have drawn a picture to illustrate, because let’s face it, I laughed later, you should laugh at me too. It’s just really that funny. My boyfriend and I are the yellow dots.

And of course, in true Calvin form, when we had to leave I was very sad. The ocean is so much fun, once you learn that it’s not going to eat you, unless it’s a riptide, in which case, the ocean is angry and you should leave it alone, but on all the other days, it’s really just there to enjoy. Just don’t drink it, it tastes bad and it sucks to wear contacts in the ocean because salt water in the eyes hurts like nothing else, but despite all this, over time, the ocean and I have gone from being mortal enemies to being acquainted with each other. Also, I broke my record, on this day I floated for a whole FIVE seconds. Yes, I was yelling and screeching the whole time and almost forgot how to breathe, but I was quite proud of my accomplishment. However, my boyfriend now thinks that I may be a lost cause and has suggested that should take baby steps maybe I should practice floating in the apartment complex’s pool with a life jacket. Sigh, okay, okay, I know I’m pathetic and he’s for the most part kidding about buying me a life vest…I think…

First Step To Becoming An Old Geezer

I don’t know if I have been in the South too long, but I’m starting to really enjoy spending time in places that have a very relaxed atmosphere and an older crowd. Honestly, I think this is a sign that I’m turning into an “old geezer” as some have already pointed out to me. I really enjoy being the youngest person in the room.

For a while, we would go to Barnes and Nobles and get specialty drinks and browse the books and thoroughly enjoy ourselves. They have a collection of books, I guess you could say that they are classics that are super cheap and I love them dearly. They have wonderful introductions. It is solely because of these books that I have grown to love reading once more.

However, recently, the college students have returned and now my beloved bookstore is filled with very obnoxious freshman girls who think it’s proper to walk around with friends, point at books, and make comments like, “Oh, I read that like so long ago, like in middle school and I didn’t like it, it was too wordy.” I can’t help but think, it’s a freaking book, it’s suppose to have words, maybe you should try shutting your trap, choosing a book, finding a chair and reading. Who knows, you might actually grow intellectually and learn something. Good grief.

Sadly, I know, deep down in my heart, I once was that annoying. I think we all have caught ourselves judging someone whom is younger than ourselves and later realizing that at one time we were just as young and foolish. Sigh, yes, I am becoming an old geezer.

Unconditionally Loving Another

I’ve spent the last several days thinking about unconditional love. I think most people, when they think about finding that “special someone,” a soul mate, or true love they think that they kind of love that will exist between them is unconditional. I thought that too until recently. Loving someone unconditionally can be dangerous and at times energy draining. It can also be the foundation for very unhealthy relationships.

I think unconditional love is great between family, maybe even friends and everyone needs to be unconditionally loved at some point in their lives. It’s important to have people that will accept you for who you are everyday of your life and to have their opinion of you not falter even when you make bad decisions or questionable choices.
However, unconditional love has also evolved to mean that in addition to a type of emotional state for feeling for another person you also don’t change the way you treat them or the amount of support that you provide. That kind of support often means that you don’t try to change them in any way or persuade them to think differently, form another opinion or explore other avenues.

I think there is a serious problem with those kinds of relationships. No matter what kind of a relationship you are in you can’t run away from the fact that there will at some point and time be conflict and with conflict come a need for accepting fault and some change. These type of situations posses a huge problem because we think that to ask someone to change means that we don’t love them for who they are, but in order for a boyfriend/girlfriend or husband/wife relationship to work there has to be change. It has to be okay to ask your partner to make a change or at least a compromise from time to time so that conflict can get resolved.

Does this mean that the best kind of love between life partners is not unconditional love as we have come to know it to be?

I can’t help but think of arrange marriages when the topic of love and marriage comes to mind. I know that if you look at data and studies you will find that arrange marriages or more likely to last, in other words, those marriages are less likely to end in divorce than marriages where people pick their spouse. Also, that couples in arrange marriages report loving their spouse more over time than couples in unarranged marriages. Does this mean that in this culture we have lost what a marriage is supposed to be?

There has been lots of discussion about what marriage is and how to define a married couple, but I look at the arranged marriage data and wonder what type of love exists there and if it could be defined as unconditional. I also know that there exists a theory in psychology where if a person is more likely to accept sometime if it can’t be returned or exchanged. A simple way to illustrate this is to give the example of purchasing something at store like a CD and the store offers a no exchange policy. A costumer is more likely to not only like the CD, but to like it more than a person who bought the same CD at a store that did offer the customer an easy way to return it. The same can be true with people and just about everything and this theory has been at the foundation of some arguments that it’s too easy to get a divorce and since that is the case, people jump into marriage and are quick to leave without really putting forth great effort to make things work.

I don’t know about all of this except that clearly, at least in this country, the ideas of love and family are going through some type of revision process. At one time, actually for a long time, people lived in what most refer to now as a nuclear family and that kind of family structure disappearing. Is this good or bad?

Human Contact

There has been a lot of discussion about how technology has changed how we communicate with one another, but I don’t think enough attention is being drawn to the fact that even though it is much easier to communicate, in many ways we are doing less of it. Our social circle is really much less social and much bigger. Also, the less we like someone, the less contact we have with them. We each can place our “friends” into three categories, those who we speak to personally, face to face, those who we speak to over the phone, and those who we speak to via the internet. There are, of course, sub categories to the above three, such as communicating with people via instant massager, by personal email, by the email that in no way identifies yourself, messages relayed through a social network website, and so forth. The fact of the matter is it’s easier to hide from people, to avoid people who not only you don’t like, but don’t know. It creates a way to further isolate oneself and make believe that establishing relationships is as easy as typing.

However, it is not the case. It doesn’t matter how many “friends” one has listed on an online profile, forming real, life long, meaningful and health relationships take work and, you guessed it, personal contact. A lot of communication is relayed through body language such as facial expressions. All of that is lost when communication takes place online. Granted, there is only so many ways to communicate with someone who is several hundred, or maybe, thousands of miles away. In the kind of sense of connecting the world, the internet is fantastic. However, I find it odd and strange how people use the internet to communicate with people who are in their own community. People set up online gaming and interact through characters. They share a make believe world with each other while pretending to be someone else. How is this healthy or satisfying? How can this possibly replace real, honest interaction with real live, in person human beings?

I don’t really understand the world of video games, online gaming, gaming, fantasy, etc. Granted, I love reading a good science fiction novel, but I, personally, only find it rewarding when done on occasion. I think it’s sad that we don’t have places where people just interact and are expected to interact. I think it’s sad that it’s almost become taboo to strike up a conversation with a stranger. Sure, we are more than happy to do it online, when we don’t even have any way to verify any information given in such a conversation. We have spent many generations reading people through behavior. In person, it’s fairly easy to tell if someone is lying when they say they are a twenty-four year old male and are standing before you with gray hair, lots of wrinkles, and big boobs. Yes, it’s true that even in person you can’t always tell, but I would be willing to guess that striking up conversations with strangers is in some ways much safer.

I’ve also noticed that people who spend a lot of time alone, isolated tend to care less about other people. I’m sure they care on some level, but they lack the ability to be empathic, to place themselves in someone else’s shoes. I believe that on some level and in some fashion the ability to do that is necessary.

Also, and finally, personal contact is great. I love hand shakes and eye contact. I love seeing someone’s smile in person and just feeling their aura which is something that gets missed when communication happens online.

Personal Pilgrimage

I finally caved today. It happens to all of us at some point. Granted, there are those few people that walk among us who believe that they would never stoop to such level. However, I am proud to say, to everyone, that I did indeed cave today. I broke down. I have had too many days of eating not only healthy, but just simply eating all new foods. I have yearned for something familiar in my stomach. Something to remind me of my glory days of college where my stomach was more like a garbage disposal that would take on the challenge of processing anything I gave it. No, I needed more than just going to the grocery store and buying a bag of tortilla chips, velveeta cheese and a can of chopped tomatoes. No, this was not a day for devouring chips and salsa while I watch my favorite movie. No, what was needed was something more sinful. I needed fast food.

Now, I had fast food one other time since I left the bread basket state, but this food that I needed not only had to be fast food, but it had to remind me of home. I needed to be comforted by food. Yes, I know it’s wrong. It’s even more wrong then buying a chocolate bar, but I’m still in America by golly and I must act like an American and consume some good old trans fat and grease. I needed a roast beef and cheddar sandwich, curly fries, mozzarella sticks and a nice, cold, sugary, carbonated beverage. It wasn’t a desire, the more I put this off, the more it became a need.

In my mind I was worshipping the taste and aroma that I envisioned of this glorious American food. It was interfering with my ability to keep my priorities straight. All I could think about was the taste of the fat and the grease. I was imagining the joy of looking out the window at all the cars that would zoom by on the highway while I enjoyed my food. That is how it happened, that is why it happened. That is way I caved today. It is why earlier today I made a pilgrimage to find something to satisfy my soul, my American soul.

I know that it is quite pathetic. I am convinced that if I was living in a foreign country I would be handling these things better. If I had no choice but to conform to the local culture, then I would. I would do so proudly and with grace. It’s just so confusing moving to a different part of the country. In so many ways, if feels like home, it’s the same country after all, but at the same time, the new place demands that you change so you do.

At least, I was set out in doing so until I caved. I don’t regret it. I enjoyed eating my fast food. I enjoyed how much it hurt to drink a carbonated beverage and how I couldn’t control my loud belching in the restaurant. It had been so long since I had a soda that I forgot that burps are part of the appeal of the product. I will admit that half way through the meal I felt sick and that I didn’t eat everything. I will also admit that since I am currently unemployed, on some level in my mind I’m telling myself that it was stupid to spend $8.63 on one single meal. Yes, all of this is true. I will admit. I have my moments of weakness and sometimes my moments of weakness leave me feeling incredibly sick. However, my soul is satisfied and I can now go back to living the healthy life where I treat my body with respect and not pollute with crap like greasy food.

Oh, but it was so delicious….

Short Note On Racism

Racism is such a sticky topic in this country and definitely more in some areas than others. Spending time in Charleston, just miles from what used to be plantations that had slaves is certainly opening my eyes to the issue. I can remember back in the eighth grade when in history class I first learned about the slave trade. I also remember going home and throwing my history textbook at my father and demanding to be transferred to a different school because the one I'm attending is teaching me such crap these days. It just didn't make sense to me and I didn't understand why the Europeans thought they needed it, they already had indentured servants. What was the point? My problem is just basically that I'm ignorant, always have been, will probably will be to some extent, but spending time in a part of the country where there definitely is a big difference between "whites" and "blacks" is certainly helping me understand racism a lot more, especially how it is a alive and well in this country. It's quite sad. I rather enjoyed believing that all the stories weren't true.

People are also really nice and sweet down here, so it also makes me wonder how bad the racial divide is in areas of the country where people are not so nice. It's just so strange to me. I feel like I need to leave just so that I don't turn into one of those people who is so negative about people who are African American. I can't even begin to tell you how many times my jaw has just dropped when people say things. For example, I was talking about a story I had seen online about a young girl in her early teens getting a DUI and the person who I was speaking to, before I had even finished relaying the article blurted out, "Was she black? I bet she was black. Only a black person would do something like that." I'm not kidding, direct quote. Can you believe this rubbish? However, this is the kind of thing that gets said down here, it's really sad.

I've also noticed that if a line of people are waiting to be helped, say buy a ticket at a movie, and the ticket issuer is black, then all of the white people in the line get very antsy and annoyed after just standing in line for a couple of minutes, some even complain about how the long line is a direct result of the ticket issuer's slowness and all of the people who are black just stand there patiently. BUT, if the ticket issuer is white, then it's vise versa. It's so strange. It's like a whole other world in that sense. I have never seen anything like it, but at least now I'm beginning to understand what all the fuss about racism is about.

Lack of Green

I am rediscovering my love for color. It's quite pathetic, I know, I'm such a lost puppy. If the University had only offered a degree in color theory, but alas, I am having to settle for all the free paint samples from Home Depot and visiting an exhibit on the history of color fabric dyes at a local museum. Some say I should consider being an interior designer and go back to school and such, but I don't know if that would be such a good idea. I'm such an efficient freak, I would strive to find that colors and designs that would bring out the best in people and just design everything as such. "No, you can't have a yellow nursery for your baby! He'll have trouble sleeping!!!" Yes, I would never have clients, ever, so I think I will just stick to this being a secret passion of mine.

On that note, an old friend of mine, from Atlanta once told me that the most popular color for cars is green in that area, so when I came to Charleston, I thought I would find a similar phenomena, but no, there is no popular car color here. It makes me sad. The only things that are green around here are the trees, it's odd, people don't even really wear the color green. Kermit the Frog would be sad if he lived here although, he did always say, it's not easy being green...

Being Lost, Keeping Love

I find myself thinking of a lot of firsts in recent days: The first time my parents trusted me enough to be home alone, my first airplane ride, my first bathing suit, the first and only time I ate french fries with ketchup, but none of my firsts take up more of my thought then the first time I was "lost" or "unlocatable."

I remember it clearly, the first time in my life that if someone wanted to be able to find me, it would take them several hours, maybe even days. I had lived on my own for a few months and I went for a walk, didn't tell anyone where I was going, left my cell phone at home so no one could contact me and it was possibly one of the most wonderful things I have ever experienced in my entire life. It was so freeing, so honest, it was just me and the world, no one else. I found myself traveling to places that I had often thought of going to, long winding streets, odd stores, but just never could find the time, and loving just simply existing in that very moment. It was bliss.

I find myself, as one could imagine, doing a lot of new firsts here in a new town during what must be the "next chapter" of my life, but at the same time, I keep breaking down in shock and sorrow. I find myself doing things that remind me of home: I watch a lot of movies, spend a lot of time on the Internet, walk around stores even though I don't need anything...

And yet, at the exact same time, I'm forcing myself, no, forcing is too strong of a word, I'm allowing myself to let go: I hardly ever wear my watch, I spend so much time reading now, I clean things daily, I can't stand to see a dirty dish anywhere in this apartment (eeekkk!!!)

It's things like these that make me wonder if I am being myself. I look in the mirror often to verify, I reach out and touch things, I go outside and stand on the balcony and say to myself, "Yes, indeed, this isn't Kansas anymore," I go find the few things I brought with me from home and hold on to them for a few minutes. The one item that I am finding myself looking at the most often is oddly enough something I packed by accident. It's a note written by a dear friend, and it was given to me on my birthday several years ago. It's a card and inside is note written on half a sheet of a notebook paper, folded to which is says, among other things, "Just remember it's OK not to know where you're going. You'll get there."

So basically, in mind, my dear friend has given me his expressed permission to get lost as much as I want and that it's okay. Every time I read this note I tear up a little, how could I not? There are so many people who travel through life never knowing what love is, not in any way, not even loving themselves, and here is a person, a dear friend, left from a relationship of not so long ago who loved me so much, even then, when he knew less about me to say that it was OK, that I was OK, that my life is OK.

Yes, it's true, I don't need any one's permission to do anything with my life, but to know that even those who love me will always love me, no matter where I am or how lost I get, is definitely something I hold on to and even though from time to time in life I'm going to be lost, there are definitely things I can pack with me, even when I can't take suitcases, one of which is going to be that love, it's going to go with me every where I go. I hope that it never gets lost and that my love, in return, will never get lost.

Charleston Weather and Cars

Back home there was this saying, "If you don't like the weather, wait five minutes." We often joke about how forecasts are never accurate, but here, near the coast, it is all very strange. Back home, if it was going to rain, there would be some kind of warning, a front would move in, you could see it coming and it always came basically from the same direction. I don't ever recall getting rain from Kansas City...

Here, it is always rain, and only rain, but it could come from anywhere. It could be clear as day and sunny and then ten minutes later, it could be raining and the rain could come from the west or the east or where ever, it's just seems odd to me, but yesterday I decided it would be the same way if I lived on a tropical island, so now I rather enjoy it.

My tropical island with lots of freeways....

I am also fascinated by the small number of crappy cars here. I'm guessing it's because there is no sense in buying a car unless it has good air conditioning, so if you can't afford something that good, you just rely on the bus. Also, there's all the freaking highways, so maybe that's a factor. I don't know, I'm just noting the observation.

A Short List of Goals

Yesterday I made a list of things that I wanted to do at some point or stuff that I want to have. It's odd what kinds of things I miss and what I want to do. On one hand I think I'm a weird freak, on the other I think I'm perfectly normal.

Own for some length of time a hammock and accompanying tress
Learn how to sew and make the quilt that I have been wanting to make for years now
Learn how to float and swim
Own a car
Know how to fix a flat tire
Read a bunch more books of all kinds including the "classics"
Teach for the experience, not as a career
Be a salesperson for the experience, not as a career
Write an autobiography and possibly never share it
Write a set of short stories or a book and really never share it
Understand once and for all what the heck a semi conductor is, how it works and what it is used for
Make my very own banana bread
Live in a foreign country
Wear a dress for a whole day for no reason

That is all for now, I'm sure I'll write more entries like this later.

Sand Fish Makers

Dear person who made really neat sand fish all along the beach on Friday,

Next time, don't make sand pits along the beach! People, such as myself, whom like to walk along the beach and look at the waves and stars tend to fall in such pits and twist ankles and knees. Why can't you just join the flashlight people and spend your evenings trying to find jellyfish?

Finding Solutions to Problems

Why is there this desperate need and desire to explain everything in simple, universal terms? Why are there so many lines of thought, philosophies and religions devoted for being the answer to everything, the one and only way to see and think about things?

Yes, there are things that people have in common and it’s an interesting concept that besides the physical things that we can see we have in common, eyes, ears, heart, feet, and so forth, there are behavior things and reactions that are so universal that we can say with certainty that they will always happen.

But is that true?

Genetically, we are different from each other, generally, there are identical twins, but even then, they have differences that the acquire from their environment, so what gives? Why are we so obsessed with a universal way of acting, behaving, believing, and living of life?

At no time is there such a fascinating example of this conflict then how people react to stressful situations. Sometimes, for everyone at some point, a lot gets thrown at you, sometimes faster than you think you can handle. At times like these, people panic, they do things that seem out of character. People who have never prayed in their lives will show up at some random church and ask for outside help, answers and solutions to current life problems that seem so impossible thinking there is some universal, standard way to solve it.

Why do people ask for solutions? Why not ask for the strength to handle the situation? Isn’t that by far more important? I found a journal that I used for a while, when I was very sick, back in college, most of it was rubbish at this point in my life, but one page just made my day, gave me the self-esteem boost I needed to keep going with the packing and the moving and the life changing. It said the following:

Rule #1: You must come up with your own answers to everything. You cannot steal anyone else’s. That’s cheating.

Rule #2: Everything is temporary.

I think in life, so often, we “cheat,” we don’t ask for help, we ask for solutions, we ask people what they would do if they had the same problem and we then copy them, we do the same thing instead of taking the time to understand that there is so much more to be taken from that problem that appeared for us, in our own life.

Also, we also forget that things change. My grandfather always told me that if life gave me too much to handle, that I should take a nap because when I wake up I’ll have more strength to deal with it or the problem will change into something else, so that it may be easier to handle. No where did he ever call up someone and ask for assistance, however, he was a guy, and guys tend not to, but regardless, it’s still a good point. It’s silly to get upset with a problem for too long, because it, like everything is just going to exist for a while and then leave or turn into something else. It’s just the way it goes.

I currently have so many problems and concerns that I feel overwhelmed. I just don’t know what to do, except wake everyday and hope that I will find the strength to keep my head up and keep asking for more information. I think that’s reasonable, because with more information I can find solutions, at some point, for my current problems and although with new information comes new problems, they will be ones that will help me grow even more in life, so it’s a good thing.

At least, that’s what I keep telling myself, but in reality, I want to just pack up my suitcases, runaway back to Kansas and just hide under a bed in my grandmother’s basement for the next several months. I’d make an appearance for Christmas.

Sigh. I can’t though, I can’t do it. I haven’t run away from anything else that has been thrown at me so this should be easy, right? Truth is, there is no universal answer to the question of what I should be doing. I’m not just talking about the question of what one should do with their life, but just even in an everyday kind of sense. Oddly, while it is so obvious that my life is unique and I need to discover this myself, there is the temptation of stealing an answer from some where else, some place else, from some other life and claiming it as my own.

However, it’s not entirely possible, we each steal things and ideas all the time. How many things do you use that were invented by someone else? See? I guess, there is something we have in common besides processing the same organs: we are all a bunch of conniving thieves. I think I want a t-shirt that says that…

The Benefits of an Extended Vacation

I have heard it said by many people how important it is to at some point in life go visit some place that is away from home, most say a foreign country, for at least long enough that you no longer feel like you are on vacation, where you can be yourself. It’s a hard feat, I think. When you are home, you are yourself, but so much of yourself is defined by your life there. I think that is something that most don’t realize. When you are out of your safety net of home, hell, even going away to college has a safety net, but I am really talking about going some place that doesn’t have that kind of familiarity in any way. Granted, I’m still in the United States, so I guess I can in no way consider myself knowledgeable about finding ones self in a new place when I clearly can locate a familiar fast food place in a short amount of time. Regardless, I do think there is a lot that I can say about my experiences here, especially along the lines of self discovery.

First and fore most, I need to give myself a lot more credit. I am definitely braver than I thought, stronger than I thought and healthier than I ever dreamed of being. I’m also incredibly lucky and fortunate. I don’t know where in life I developed the type and degree of level headedness that I have, but it’s fantastic. I have encountered so many people who are closed minded in some way and I’m sure I am in some respect also, but it’s just be interesting to see how I tend to relate to people so well. I can’t walk anywhere by myself without complete strangers just walking up to me and starting a conversation. People of all ages, races, backgrounds. It’s like I give off the ultimate I am a nice, friendly person vibe. I’m also a lot more empathetic, which I guess is why people seem so comfortable around me. It’s been interesting. I went into an interview for a sales job, something I have been telling myself I could never do and I would hate if I ever did, but I found it easy to interact with and communicate with all of the different people there. I don’t mean to ramble about this. It’s just so fascinating since for such a long time, a period of years, I couldn’t communicate what time of day it was, much less how I thought about anything. I still have issues, but I’m very optimistic about it now. I almost have the self confidence to be even more open and honest with people, especially family and friends, which is something I have struggle with.

I’m also learning that I do indeed have dreams and goals I want to accomplish in life. Discovering this about myself just makes me so incredibly happy. I guess it’s a good sign that I can leave home for several weeks and return with the inner power and belief that I can get things done and feel good about it and myself at the same time.

Granted, there are things I can’t get away from, like how I am a woman, so yes, I would like to lose ten pounds and yes, I do day dream about some day having a fairy tale wedding and yes, I am a sucker for a massive blow out sale at a girlie place like bath and body works. On a related note, I’m way more girlie than I thought I was. If I had, say, a thousand dollars to blow on clothes, I would go to the mall and buy a bunch of sun dresses with beautiful prints and other type things and pretty shoes, probably not high heals, but just nice shoes, not tennis shoes. I would also buy jewelry. I haven’t decided yet if I want to get my ears pierced. That’s kind of a conflicted issue on a personal level. (The whole belief I have had for a long time how if I was meant to come with more holes, I would have been born with them.) I would also like to have some purses. I am sick and tired of wearing Bermuda shorts and carrying everything around in my pockets. Also, as funny as this is, I’m starting to really like pink, but I think that one is to blame on being in the South in the summer. Pink is just everywhere and it’s hard not to like something that is in so many places.

Sorry, I started to day dream about shopping for clothes and dancing in the rain in a yellow sun dress so I think I should end this post and move on to another when I regain my brain.

Charleston Bridges

The geography in this area is interesting. The population is spread out over several peninsulas that are connected by a series of bridges, not to mention the swamps that sometimes create extra divisions. There isn't some downtown commercial center with sky scrapers anywhere, everything is so spread out. I've spent a great deal of time ever since I spent some time studying urban geography bad mouthing suburbia development, but I guess in a swamp land like this, it may be the only way to go. Now, I'm not saying the road system is efficient, because it's not and the bus system is it's own type of ridiculous, but it is amazing that things are connected at all down here. I have never seen a ten lane highway connect two areas of such little population, and there are several of them, but it makes sense, I guess. I hardly see any major traffic, which is good, because drivers down here are nuts. However, when there is a traffic jam, it goes on for miles and there is often the one bridge that connects point A to point B so you just inch along while it takes you the hour or so to cross the bridge. If you look past all the concrete, the landscapes are beautiful. It's amazing how you can sometimes just look out your window and see magnificent birds, alligators or other wildlife. It's quite lovely.

The Fourth

It's funny how life works sometimes. I keep thinking to myself, why am I here? What am I doing here? And then I just sit back and try to enjoy myself. Yesterday, I was freaking out, mainly due to homesickness because I love spending the holiday with my family, eating lots of good food, listening to the same stories told year after year and later on in the evening, watching fireworks as I get eaten alive by bugs. Tradition is important. I can't help being who I am and how I tend to follow life by the ideas taught in Methodism, granted I'm not the most religious person in the world, but there is something to be said for a modern twist on Wesley's Quadrilateral, which stressed the importance of tradition.

Even though I couldn't do the standard hang out with family and watch fireworks, we did go out and eat ribs, which were fantastic as well as walk through a mall. Can I be any more American? It was strange how many cell phone booths, jewelry stores and shoe stores there were. Also, I have never seen so much 'bling' before in my life. Other than that, a nice relaxing holiday. I have more to say, but it will have to come later. :)

Soul Searching in Charleston

In case you haven’t heard, I am currently located in the town of North Charleston in South Carolina. My reasons for coming out here are rather personal; at least most of them, but among them include the basic soul searching that one must do in life from time to time. I haven’t been here for very long, but I must say, my stay thus far has been very rewarding. I’m discovering, or rather, reminding me what is most important to me, my personal beliefs, values, dreams and how I really need to redirect and reorganize my life. This kind of overhaul is necessary so that I can continue to be happy.

I know such a concept may seem strange to some, but in life it’s not about asking what is normal, what is average, what one should be doing right now, but rather, what is normal for me? What is average for me? What should I be doing right now? I find it rather interesting how I live in a society and culture focused on individualism but yet at the same time there is so much emphasis on fitting in. We spend so much energy telling people to be themselves, yet at the same time give so much advice, sometimes directing people as to what they should do with themselves, pressuring them to fit into some standard picture in some way.

Back home, I consistently felt like I couldn’t get out of the sick person mold. I would start something and someone would always take it over somehow and the end result would be not what I had envisioned. I could never when that battle. I apparently lack the ability to communicate when I need help, what kind of help I need and when I no longer need help with something. I also couldn’t say no to any one. I’m doing much better down here, I can actually stand up for myself and say no and stop and be demanding and fight for my needs. It’s a strange feeling, I feel guilty about it, but at the same time it’s empowering.

I think on some level a person needs some kind of a purpose or a role to fill and I am no exception. I desire to fill a role other than the sick, hopeless, crazy, dumb person. How one defines purpose and role is personal, at least I think it is. Some people are satisfied defining it as sister or friend, while others need to define it as teacher or engineer. There are of course others, the small short ones that often get over looked. How many times has a complete stranger brightened up or ruined your day? How many times have you walked down the street and because someone smiled at you, your day was better and how many times has a moron driver sent you plummeting into a bad mood? The point is, we are filling roles, finding a purpose, to a large degree, by simply being ourselves and living our everyday life.

I know that for most people, what is normal for them is to reach for and obtain big goals, to become a writer, a firefighter, to obtain skills that take lots of work and effort over many years. What is normal for me, is lots of little things. I don’t want some life long career; I don’t want to live in the same town my whole life. I want to do many different things, see many different places. However, at the same time, I don’t want to be a nomad traveler; I just want a change of scenery every now and again. I want to explore a little, try new things, but at the same time I want to find a place I could call home. I haven’t quite figured it out yet, maybe I need to have a home base and then go on lots of vacations and see the world as a part time hobby or something. In short, I still don’t know. It’s okay though, it’s alright to not know everything, to just wake up each day and enjoy it. I won’t lie, I have had my days where I wake up at six in the morning, eat breakfast and get so overwhelmed by all the luxurious freedom that I have that I go right to bed and sleep for a while. Somehow by shortening the day by an hour just makes it seem more conquerable.

I do my best to get out everyday and enjoy the sunshine and allow myself to break down and cry every once in a while because, well, it’s a lot of change in a short amount of time and it’s healthy to emotionally react to all that is around you, which sometimes means crying…and other times it means breaking out in a funky dance in your pajamas and making lots of little squeaky happy giggling noises.

Regardless, this too won’t last; soon I’ll be somewhere, starting over all over again, probably for a couple more times. It’s a lot to handle. Can this whole situation be even possible? Is it real? These are questions I ask myself repeatedly. What is love? How do I know when I meet the person I want to travel along life with? Is it a feeling, a spark? Is it more gradual? What would one do for love, if that is indeed what they had? Should I plan the next phase of my life around this person I’m currently spending the summer with? It seems it would be a bad idea on so many levels. Forget all the previous reasons people had to call me crazy, doing that would establish a whole new list of reasons to do so. It also implies that this guy somehow replaces the love that I had for the last person I was dating, which isn’t true, and never will be. People aren’t replaceable, not on any level. I still firmly believe that.

No, what I have here is something entirely different, something that I had never encountered. It’s very odd in that respect. It doesn’t replace nor is it like any previous relationship and he’s not like any other person I have met either. I don’t feel I have to give up anything about myself, my life, my future, and my dreams to have it. It’s an addition, a wonderful addition. Knowing him, being in a relationship with him, just adds things to my life. I can just be myself and everything is okay. I don’t have to lie about my moods, my feelings, my past, my opinions, everything about me is okay here and with him, I’m okay here, me, in my entirety. I can be open and honest in way I never could before. It’s not a competition and I’m not competing with him. We’re not fighting for the spot light; we are just enjoying each other’s company, so maybe I’m not crazy, maybe this is the person I should travel through life with. We do seem to bring out the best in each other…

I just don’t know, I bloody just don’t know.

More to come later…