Instead, today, I just signed and mailed a letter declining $40,000/year to go to school to get my PhD. When I got ready to drop it in the mailbox, I had to call one of my friends who always gives witty perspectives so that I could laugh as I put it in the mail. Her response: "You don't want that money; it's New Jersey, it's mafia money, anyway." I chuckled, and dropped it and went on my way.

About two months ago, I struggled with the decision of what I would do, whether go to school in NJ and get my PhD in Urban Systems or possibly get a second Masters in Urban Planning somewhere else. This is all because of one event during the spring semester that put me behind. One class shattered the pathway to my PhD, and made it virtually impossible to make up over the summer. And by virtually impossible, I mean that it was possible, but I'd be so braindead that I'd not even want to begin studying in the fall for another program. I needed the summer to breathe, not study. And, it wasn't possible. So, I was left with a decision to make: PhD or less.

I told myself that I would wait until after my family vacation to decide. We went to Walt Disney World. In all truth, it only took one day with my family to decide what I wanted to do. As the week progressed, my decision was confirmed. As we returned home and tragedy struck our family, my decision again was confirmed. As I've continued to try to dig roots where I am now that I've decided to stay, there are so many ways that my decision has been confirmed, and I've not turned back. 

I may have been a tad nervous to drop that letter in the mail, but I never hesitated to sign my name and mark "I decline" on my response form. I'm completely confident in what will come forth in the upcoming days, months, and years, even though this decision is completely different from what I expected just a year ago. Yes, life is taking me a different route than what I planned, but isn't that sometimes the most fun part of the journey?

For now, I'm enjoying the scenery while not trying to break the bank, but also trying to see what options are available (which are often slim to none with my degree background, but plentiful with my skill set) for work. I'm thankful that I will be close to my family for a while, and I will continue to enjoy the travel, as I've got a list of places to see that is still growing. Mostly, I'm continually watching in expectation to see just how one decision can change my life.

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.

I got to get back in a pretty decent time frame, mainly because my symptoms triggered the sirens of crazed illness beyond just the viral or bacterial sickness. Of course, once you get back, that's when the waiting begins. I was poked and prodded every way possible. Blood work, head CT, strep test, x-rays, UAs, and a spinal tap (which failed because the doc didn't have the right needles, and just left me in pain). 

But, while I was waiting in the lovely clinic-like ER side unit that was divided by lovely curtains, and I was nestled in "room" D5 for about 8 hours this evening, I got to hear every single conversation going on in D1-D4 & D6. And boy were they interesting.

In D3, a 13 or 14 year old girl came in claiming that she had abnormal "spotting," so they did blood work. It turned out that she was pregnant. The mom stayed calm the entire time. They went for an ultrasound, and then came back and announced that there was no heartbeat, and the girl probably had a miscarriage. The girl had absolutely no response whatsoever. After the doc left, she told her mom she was going to get a candy bar. Her mom then got on the phone and started rattling off that she couldn't believe what was happening to her daughter: first, that she was already bed hopping, two, that she had no emotion about being pregnant, and three, that she still had no emotion about losing the baby. 

In D2, the man had kidney stones that were 4MM and were too small to do the laser beam explosion. Instead he'd have to pass them himself. He said he was worried about being doped up on pain killers when he had to present for his client tomorrow in court.

In D1, the girl had a doctor send her in for an abdominal CT, because she was "sick." She had a friend in with her, and they were cackling and chatting the entire night. Apparently, she had been tested for mono and it was negative, and other tests were negative as well. But, it all came back to the fact that she just needed more potassium.

D6… he had the flu.

Well, you get the picture. I got every bit of information going on in the section of the ER that I was in tonight. It was completely miserable. Which bears in mind the question: how in the world does HIPAA not go crazy nuts over curtained instances like this? They won't even let my mom call in and ask questions and get a status on me in the ER (there was no reception in there, and my mom wanted to know what was going on… you know, super nurse), yet they'll announce decisions by the doctors so that everyone can hear, and the nurse will ask you personal questions from her computer/nurse's station in the center of the room and expect you to answer. Oh, and don't let me forget to also add that the nurse announced lab results from said station. She told one patient that she was pregnant. I know everything about my neighbor, but my own mother can't find out about my status. All because of HIPAA. Sheer irony.

HIPAA??? Really? For hospitals, they're really more like HIPAA-crites in practice half the time.