government lessons
Bureaucracy sometimes is a beautiful thing. Of course, I'm being sarcastic, are you kidding? There's nothing worse than having to sit around in an office waiting to do something that would be so much easier to do online. Enter the Social Security Administration and the adventure of a new social security card.
This isn't the first time I've had to do this. I had to apply for a new one in October of last year, in order to take care of my DC registration. It was my first replacement ever from the one I had from birth. However, during the move from DC to Birmingham, it's been put away in a box, and I'm not really sure which one. And, Alabama is a little crazed with the new hire forms and verifying social security numbers with cards (which I've not had to do, this is a new thing… but maybe it's because this is a state job). So, instead of tearing apart every box in storage that I have to find it and making an utter mess in the possibility that I might have lost it, I figured it would be just as easy to reapply for a replacement card.
Now, the downtown office was a madhouse yesterday. So, I opted for the Birmingham "East" office. It was quite a change from the office in DC. In DC, I was the ONLY "white (not hispanic)" person in the place. And everyone was there to do what they needed to, no one talked, and everyone looked hacked off while we were there. But, in the Birmingham-East SSA office, I'm pretty sure every area in state of Alabama made sure to send representation. And what did I do? I sat back and watched… and took in some life lessons.
As the scary looking man that looked like he could kill me, whose fingernails were longer than mine, kept staring at me, this cute, little African-American boy was singing songs into the bottom of his grandmother's cane. The scary man's woman had her kid's names tattooed on her left arm, in about 36 pt font, horizontally, perfectly readable and in flowy cursive. Names like Perthashia and Jameem. I was just amazed at how large the tattoos. Down the row from those folks were an Asian couple that had just gotten married that couldn't keep their hands off each other. And she had some bling on that left hand. A few rows back was an Army man in his fatigues, sitting with his Army son, in jeans and a tight tee, discussing something that had been stolen the night before, apparently while the son had been partying. How do I know the son was Army? When you live in DC and you have family that is Army, you learn to know who's young and within their first few years. A few seats down from them, high-school aged teens, brother and sister, fighting and punching each other. Behind them was a family from the sticks… the wife looked like she was probably on meth, the dad looked high, and the dirty, barefoot kids were running around without any supervision… and as their, albeit cute, little, chubby boy (about 3 years old AND with a pacifier) was about to run out the door, the dad (too lazy to get up) simply yells, "GAGE!" I'm wondering if he's named the kid after a truck or a shotgun. Friends have mentioned that he's possibly named after the kid from the movie "Pet Sematary."
Luckily, my name was called about 2 minutes after the "GAGE!" moment. All this in about 30 minutes. The only part that was comforting was the American-Idol-to-Be singing into the bottom of the cane.
Things running through my head during my experience today at the SSA:B-E…
- If you name your child after a gun, a truck, or a horror film, I will judge you.
- If you want to tattoo your child's name in a font bigger than 10 pt, put it somewhere that I can't (and won't) see it.
- If you look like you're from the movie "Deliverance," I really want to yell "I Hear Banjos!"
- Men, you're not meant to have long fingernails. Leave it to the women.
- Hey, new couple, mazel! But, c'mon… we were about to puke.
- Excuse me, Officer and Son, I don't know what was stolen, but everyone knows about it now, and God forbid that you ever have to talk about a classified mission, because you sir, will fail miserably.
- Also, if you name your child after a gun, a truck, or a horror film, I will judge you. Yes, I felt the need to repeat.
Color me Judgy McJudgerson all you want. But, this is exactly why you should give people that feel like Yankees in the South an option for bureaucracy online instead of having to sit around in an office. This is the result.
I love the South, but after that experience… seriously, paddle faster. I heard banjos.
laughter is the best medicine
Since the last two weeks were a little rough (and hot as hades here in the deep South), this week, the Goalie and I sat down to watch a few humorous YouTube videos. However, it all started from the last post about the infamous hockey be with the Goalie (of which he's still taunting me about, even in the comments of my own blog). He laughed hysterically about the Bruins "Don't Date Within the Division" commercial, which he had apparently missed at some point along the way (and he calls himself a B's fan… psh).
The one commercial turned into the entire series of the Bruins' playoff spots, and then as I was browsing through my favorites, I remembered one of the funniest videoes that I had seen in a LONG time. Now, it's debated on whether or not the guy actually does have a medical condition, or whether he's faking it, but holy crap, it's funny. And seriously, the Goalie and I were laughing so hard, I was crying. Here's a best-of clip so you get a taste of it:
And then we swapped over to MY favorite YouTube video which had me laughing so hard that I was in tears and my sides were hurting… Not quite the same as the Tourette's guy, but oh wow, it's cute AND giggly.
And of course, the video that makes me giggle and think: "You stupid kid, but I love you because of your stinkin' cute British accent. Plus, your chubby little brother is adorable."
So, we spent an entire afternoon laughing… and laughing… and laughing some more. Who says laughter isn't good for the soul? I think it's perfect. I'd have any day just like that, because the laughter made me keep giggling too, even if it had been rainy and gloomy outside.
Oh, and believe me… There are so many Tourette's Guy video jokes one-liners made amidst conversation between the Goalie and I to try to break the serious moods sometimes, it's not funny. But, it cracks me up. Anyone who can yell "Bob Saget!" anytime something goes wrong gets points for hilarity and originality in my book.
i got nothing
No, really, I have lots of stories that I could probably tell, but I'm not ready to tell them quite yet.
I will say this… My transition to Birmingham has been a completely different experience so far than I ever expected. I assumed I would be bored and just working and not hanging out with anyone. A month into my transition, and I can tell you this:
- I've joined a trivia team.
- I get to see my family all the time, especially my cutie of a niece who is way too active for my own good.
- I learned how to waltz and swing dance. In a parking lot. Under Vulcan.
- I attended the social event of my year so far when two of my friends got married last weekend.
- I suck at trivia.
- I also suck at the waltz.
- I have laughed more in the past few weeks than I have in the past year.
- I'm learning to brave the heat, because sometimes it's worth the 30 minutes each day for a walk in the park.
- In a month, I've found absolutely nothing to do for work.
- In a month, I've gotten to a place I thought I never could in life (and it's a good thing).
More details to come soon I hope… I do know this: I may not be working just yet (and things are not looking good actually), and while that is discouraging, there are things going on in the periphery that are great and are encouraging and keep me optimistic.
For now, I'll be studying for the GRE to take in August/September, and preparing for Grad School to resume in the fall (and my last 2 semesters… holy cow). And who knows, maybe, just maybe, I'll share the fun stories very, very soon.
moving tweetlog
- While the CDT zone SAYS it's almost 11pm, my EDT zone body can feel the midnight and then some from the trip/packing.
- Destination reached (Birmingham). Beyond exhaustion. Considering a challenge to Rip Van Winkle's record…
- Music off. #pens / #canes game on XM until I get home.
- Who else has an Alabama song for me?? Unleash 'em. Hahaha.
sweet sweet home
I left Alabama in 1961 and never went back to live. Not because I don’t like it, but because living outside it, I can see it more objectively. –William Christenberry
I've told people before that I have a love/hate relationship with Alabama. Jokingly, I tell them that I love it when I'm away, and I hate it when I'm there. It's halfway right, but mostly wrong, too.
While I shouldn't joke about how my home state, there is a lot that I feel really proud that the state has accomplished. For one, I am in love with the governor right now. Gov. Bob Riley is the best governor the state has had since Big Jim Folsom. Of course, Big Jim was pretty crooked, so technically, Riley is the cleanest governor so far that the state might have had… pretty much ever. But, Riley has brought some amazing industry to the state, and most of all, he has put honesty, honor, and dignity back into the governor's mansion, something that has been missing for far too long in the state of Alabama (plus, he wears cowboy boots with his suits, and rides a motorcycle). I'm also excited to see about the prospects of 2010 for the Governor's Mansion. It will be interesting to see what kind of impact Artur Davis can make on the state and its voting habits.
I grow incredibly homesick at times… with all of my family there, it is harder and harder to be away and to see my niece growing up just by pictures seems so unfair. It's difficult to have lived there and know everything about daily lives to just talking a few times a week and the conversations are short-lived. There are also people there that I have dear friendships with that I have really grown to miss our connections. While I have been gone, one friend has birthed a beautiful son, a few have gotten married, and others, well, I'm not gonna lie, I miss their stories. I miss the lunch gatherings at regular spots. I miss getting to see friends do stand-up. I miss the BBQ. Oh, dear sweet Lord, do I miss the BBQ. I mean, not as much as my family, of course, but I can call and talk to friends… there's no connection with BBQ here. None. Nada.
At the same time, when I do go home, because of my seeming "black sheep" status in the family, or even in the state, I feel out of place because I've been in D.C. and lived a life completely separate from that of everyone in Alabama. There's a sort of disconnect that happens at gatherings and functions. Once again, it becomes small talk, which I can't stand. Much of it is my fault, because I become so busy that I don't stay in touch with friends, but it's only half my fault. Still, it's painful to have a disconnect in a place that I consider my home. I sincerely want to know what is going on with people and their lives. Sadly, instead of conversation, we've let technology in the form of Facebook and Twitter replace those meaningful exchanges. I love knowing what is going on, and it's helpful, but a simple message on the 'book or a tweet in 140 characters can't exactly divulge every emotion of the heart.
In retrospect, I am on and off the fence with Christenberry's view of Alabama. Being away from it, I don't know that I can always see it more objectively. There are times when I can, and times when I can't. It's like a power switch. Perhaps I didn't stay long enough before I departed to have a connection to be able to hold my objectivity. Maybe that it why I yearn to visit so much, and I long for home much more than many of those around me. Or, maybe Christenberry is off base, and has no idea… and we are all critics of our home, no matter where this life takes us. It's what we do with that criticism, positive or negative, that shapes our viewpoints.
Either way, I suppose that since I have been such a nomad in my life, I will be forced to live by the old adage, "home is where you are." And, I need to learn to get used to it. But, I secretly still count down the days when I get to visit my dear sweet home Alabama.
