an unexpected change of plans
A year ago, I would've never expected to do what I just did today. A year ago, I had big dreams to get my PhD, write a book, be some historian on the History Channel, and be a lecturer on urban history that people wanted to hear.
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. Read more
my recent life’s constant
Over the past few years, many of my friends can vouch for this: I'm not the easiest person to keep up with. Sometimes I spend weeks lingering over decisions, and sometimes I decide in an instant to go somewhere and I'm gone. I can withdraw for days and then jump out into the scene as if I was never gone. Usually, I'm always asked what I'm up to at the time, and it's not the easiest question to answer… mainly because much of the time *I* don't know. At times, my life resembles a scattered flight pattern that an untrained eye has to figure out. But, there is always one thing that everyone knows they can ask about, and one thing that is always a constant for me: hockey.
Well, actually history is too. But, it's the NHL playoffs. So, I'm rolling with this theme for now…
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minor setbacks
It's sad to think that simple things such as the flu that develop into severe things like bronchitis and pneumonia, that become critical enough to keep you down and sick for almost three weeks, including a hospital stay, can make you so far behind in academics, and life. It's amazing to see how such a nagging virus can take toll on your life and make you stressed to the core as you try to catch up… For me, it's not just catching up in grad school; it's also catching up students I'm teaching. Of course, this all occurred in October, just after I got back from New York, but one of the major consequences just hit home.
I've been going at the fastest pace that I can go, and there is no way that I can keep up, and last week, I waved the surrender flag for one of my graduate classes. I'll have to withdraw, which means that I'll either have to take an overload next semester if I teach, teach and take only 2 classes and take the final class in the summer (meaning no graduation ceremony; at my school, on May & December), or take my last three classes in the spring and don't teach. I feel like I'm stuck with a massive decision that I don't want to make. Either way, it's a pretty major consequence that doesn't give me much breathing room for error.
Hah. Breathing room… and that's where it all started… stupid pneumonia.
line change
Well, it was shorter than I anticipated, but I had to pull the Goalie… and all bets are off.
So, I know he's a Ranger and all, but if anyone has Lundqvist's number, feel free to hook me up, since I've got some free time now… Hands down, I'm a Caps fan, but I'm not ashamed to say that he's my favorite NHL goaltender.
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.
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.
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.
cat-like reflexes
Today, my friend Wade sent over images of celebrities and cats, which I loved. One in particular stayed with me, though… mostly because of the quote that followed it.
Here is a link to Brigitte Bardon, coaxing a cat across the tightrope.
I love her quote on the page:
"I really am a cat transformed into a woman… I purr. I scratch. And sometimes I bite."
It's true… I feel like my life is like that. Sometimes I bite, but I don't mean anything by it most of the time, and I usually regret it later, and forget why I did it 10 minutes later.
i feel like dancing
I have good days, and I have bad days. My bad days have been greater lately, just with the overwhelming stress of work and exhaustion, but I digress.
I get sick of the bad days… I'm an optimist by nature. Even when things are crazy busy and everyone around has a bad attitude, I continually try to find something to smile or laugh about, just because I don't want to be dragged down. So, being stuck in the house all week with a virus and basically exhausted and flat on my back has kept me from being able to see the glass in its proverbial hall full state.
Today, I schlepped out for an early morning meeting (to me, anything before 10 a.m. is early, yeah, yeah, say what you will, I'm NOT a morning person) at 8 a.m. out in past the beltway in NoVA. From where I live, that's basically about a 35 minute drive on any given day without traffic. Thankfully, I saw last night that the National Marathon was going on this morning and found an alternate route, or my commute would've been even longer. THAT would've made me even unhappier. The meeting was 4 hours. FOUR HOURS. ON A SATURDAY. Now, given the fact that it is for an alumni association, I am more than happy to give of my time for them and help out, especially now that I'm required because I'm an officer. But, seeing as how I had a few bad days already, an 8 a.m. meeting out in Timbuktu from D.C. did not add any glimmer of hope to balancing my scales toward the happy side.
After the meeting, I once again dodged the Marathoners, secretly hoping to possibly hit one, two, maybe a spectator, or even better a tourist for some points. OK, I kid. As I'm rerouting my way home, I run into another detour… there's a protest march going on down Rock Creek Parkway toward the Pentagon (thanks WUSA for letting us know that this morning AFTER it started… you guys are 2 for 2 on this now in 12 hours). I finally get around the detour and head home, and my stomach is growling ferociously.
I decided to stop into the neighborhood deli… It's a quaint Jamaican bakery that made me the most amazing 
King Cake for Mardi Gras! 
And, they have wonderful sandwiches. So, I ordered myself a sandwich and was waiting when the two most adorable girls came in, chattering in what is most likely an Ethiopian language (one of 84… how am I supposed to know which one?). And then, they see the cakes they want in the cooler window, and start singing and dancing! I couldn't keep a frown on my face and just started giggling along with them like a little school girl.
I realized then how I've been missing my own dancing in life lately. The old adage goes:
Dance like no one is watching,
Love like you'll never be hurt,
Sing like no one is listening,
Live like it's heaven on earth.
I need to remind myself more often that life's moments are only here for that long, and I need to enjoy them while I can. So, I'll be cranking up my iPhone/iPod a little louder, and probably looking a little more like a fool when I walk down the street, because the sounds of my playlists will be putting a bit more rhythm into my step, and making that water glass a lot fuller. Heck, it may start overflowing.
retro-introspection
Now that the Board Meeting at work is over, and my life is back to some version of normal (or something like that), I've been given a few more moments to think about my own life (shock, right?!). As soon as I got back on Sunday, I finally had the chance to process the news of rejection letters from the doctoral program to which I applied (this year, only one… last year, eight). I had received the news before I left for the Board Meeting, but I refused to inform anyone I knew (except for my family), because I knew that everyone would issue regrets and try to console me. At their attempts of consolation, I knew that I would probably break down because of the Board Meeting stress, so I just withheld it until after the meeting. In fact, a coworker was surprised that I had held the secret the entire time until we were on the plane back to D.C. when she brought up that I'd be hearing soon about school. And, because I'm awesome at hiding my feelings when surrounded by hundreds of strangers, I was quickly able to brush off with a joke and move on to a funny picture in Sky Mall.
Everything about what I would now not be doing really hit on Sunday night after I had a bit of rest… it was kind of like a gut punch to the stomach. Combined with the exhaustion, it's probably why the virus that I'm suffering from right now was able to complete knock me out. And, yeah, the news, it sucks. However, I refuse to let it keep me down and make me a pessimist.
I met with a good friend for dinner right before I went to Board Meeting, and he shared with me his planning tool: a 10-10-10 (10 weeks, 10 months, 10 years). So, in my downtime, I'm working on my own 10-10-10, which is odd for me, because I've never been the kind of person to make timed long-term personal goals for myself. I like to plan for the week, and things that are coming up for work and social events, but not personal goals. So, this is really a first for me. And, I won't lie, it's a little challenging. I feel a little vain and conceited thinking that I should be so awesome as to complete X & Y by year A or B. But, I'm determined to start thinking that way. And while I do have a Bucket List/wishlist of things that I want to do before I die, I think of those in a totally different way. Now my feet are to the fire with these goals.
I am also having to work on another life plan in a sort of way. It brings me back around to the question that I asked myself in high school and in college of what I really want to do in life, and if I will really be happy doing that, or will I be happy just getting a paycheck as long as I like where I am and enjoy the atmosphere. Should I be happy to have a job and stick to it (and most Americans right now I'm sure would say yes to this)? Or should I take that leap of faith and really go after what I want to do? It's a complete reversal on what I expected that I would be doing as I am approaching my 30th birthday (even more rapidly than I expected).
I guess viruses can be sheep in wolves clothing sometime (you read that right). While they are horrible and leave you on your back, they leave you with time for reflection and introspection, or even a retro-introspection. It has been good to have the time to think and to wonder about what can, might, or will happen, but I can also overthink and overanalyze, or even just boggle my own mind. It's good to have a few good friends that jump in and ask the right questions to help you work your way out of your own maze of the mind and get you back on track. It's also strange to me that I have to reflect and think back as far back as I have just to get to the point that I can start on my plans again. Who knew I had gotten so far along without thinking about what I wanted for so long? Not my parents, friends, or professors. Crazy, isn't it?
At this point, there are still so many questions that still don't have answers. But, I do know that I have a greater sense of peace because of the time that I have had to consider life plans and options instead of feeling rushed to make decisions. And, at this point, no matter what, I will consult my plans and my 10-10-10 to see how to map out what I'm doing and if it makes sense toward a final goal. If it doesn't, I will hope money starts growing on trees, or that I've bagged Nelly or George Clooney as a boyfriend!
