Texarkana was deemed the midpoint between Houston and Mena, Arkansas during the child swap that results from divorces. It is not the midpoint. In fact, it is about 300 miles shy of being the midpoint. Win mom.
During said child swap trips, my brothers and I would beg for mom to stop at Pancho’s. For those of you who are not from Texarkana or other similar sketchy towns, Pancho’s is a Mexican buffet. If those two words together don’t bother you, they should. It is inevitable that such a place would be shut down for health code violations. By pure coincidence, this fate befell the castle that held our crown jewels; sour cream enchiladas, chili rellenos, tacos, and sopapillas. This was all served on a metal plate with a red plastic rim. Raise the flag was the motto. Once you were seated at the table, you simply had to raise your flag to let your server know that you needed something. My brothers and I would have enchilada eating contests at Pancho’s. We also had many illegitimate birthdays here. Gone are the days where you can get away with such shenanigans…I’m fairly certain that most places check your ID now. It is a sad day when a kid can’t get a free piece of birthday cake you know? I digress. These sopapillas were made in house, and the smell was overwhelming and wonderful. They’d bring them out in a basket at which point my brothers and I would swarm them like we were prisoners who’d been in solitary confinement without food for a week. The flag would go straight up, and the server would walk over and wonder what the hell else these crazy kids could possibly consume. Christopher liked to refer to Pancho’s trips as the time to break out his “hollow leg.” I never really liked the term, and am still not a fan. I feel like people who use terms like hollow leg have illegitimate children at an early age. Case in point.
Honey reminds me of these trips to Pancho’s with my family. I have acquired a strange obsession with honey this year. I don’t remember ever wanting it all the time before in my life. Sure, I like the occasional bowl of Honeycombs. Honey on my biscuit, done. I have been through three bottles of honey in four months. This is not normal. I put it on peanut butter and banana sandwiches, in my smoothies, on hot biscuits, on a brownie the other day. I even tried it on vanilla ice cream. Hot tea. Everything. I can also not confirm nor deny that I drink honey out of the bear bottle when I need to get a sweet fix.
I read somewhere that if a person was to ever become stranded on a desert island, the one food they could eat for the rest of their life on this island is honey. Honey is apparently the only food that could sustain you for the rest of your life. Nothing else, just honey. Sure, your teeth would fall out, but you’d be alive. This beat my mint chocolate chip ice cream answer hands down.
Does this new love of honey mean that I am subconsciously missing my childhood? Am I so far into the throws of adulthood that I am already having a midlife crisis? Or are we programmed to worry all the time even if life gives us nothing to worry about? Borrowing worry out of the worry bucket is never a good idea if that is the case. Either way, I hope I can find a study that suggests that there are huge health benefits to consuming mass amounts.
I’d like to apply the “raise the flag” concept to life. Think genie in a bottle type of thing. Raise that flag, ask away, wish granted. Trifecta. Hey, it worked when we were kids at Pancho’s – binge eating sour cream enchiladas and betting each other that we could out eat the other. Those were great days.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Drink It In
It seems as if there are times in our lives that seem to stick out more than others. Times that we can look back on and remember minute details; what we were wearing, the food we ate that day, the people we chatted with, the conversations that we were a part of, or logistical details that are of no real importance in the overall scheme of things. This weekend in Kansas City is now one of those times for me. It started out on a late night flight from DCA. I checked into my hotel room at The Hyatt Place near the airport, took a bath, and feel fast asleep later than I should have. Routine. The next morning, I began a two day journey on this herculean ship that was my outbound seminar with the Ambassadorial Scholar class of 2011-2012. Twenty-four of us gathered from all over the country. Strangers passing through each other’s lives – new Rotarian faces dotted the room and further enhanced the weekend. Larry Lunsford and Jorge Aguilar started us off as we went around the room to introduce ourselves. Two minutes each of who we are, where we are from, what we plan to do, and how our lives led us on this path. Twenty-four individuals spoke on Friday and each and every introduction was awe-inspiring. Sharon Benzoni will study water anthropology in Ghana and work towards solving the crisis of water in Africa. Jessie will study sustainable development and agriculture in New Zealand and help cure world hunger. Greta is about to publish her novel on women in Liberia and will study forced migration in South Africa. Angie will study rural development and food scarcity in India. To say that I was blessed to be in a room with such amazing human beings is an understatement. I want to be each one of them. I want to study the things they will study, work on the same projects alongside them in Ghana, Peru, Hong Kong, Thailand, Australia, England, Switzerland, India, South Africa, Costa Rica, and Scotland. I want to till the soil with Angie in Delhi and work with refugees in Africa. Each person will spend the next year doing extraordinary things with extraordinary people throughout this world. All because we have been afforded an opportunity through our Rotary Clubs nationwide. This organization has singlehandedly almost eradicated Polio. For one dollar a vaccine, Rotary has changed the lives of hundreds of thousands of human beings. $26,000 is being given to me – an amount that could have bought 26,000 lifetimes for those in the countries still stricken by the disease. This could purchase thousands of wells in developing Africa that could furnish clean drinking water to hundreds of towns that have never seen water that is clean and sanitary. Collectively, our group was given $624,000 from the pockets of selfless men and women who believe that we will deliver on our promise to change this world. It will be no easy task, but it will be the spark in the fire that will change the rest of our lives. I am infused with enthusiasm, inspiration, and hope for the upcoming year.
I am already impressed with the reach of Rotary International. Every corner of the world seems to be brimming with Rotarians who are working on project after project that furthers the mission of the organization. They are building wells in Africa, and working with women across the world and teaching them how to take care of themselves physically and financially. Little girls in India are being given the chance to educate themselves in schools that were dreamed up by Rotarians. Microdevelopment, sustainability, renewable energy, food scarcity, peace and conflict resolution, climate change…these “bigs” in the world – the things that can overwhelm both the individual and society…the things that sometimes feel too staggering to address…are being addressed right now by these amazing people. They need hands on deck for each project. Faith. Vitality. Vision. All qualities I possess and want to dole out immediately. For this reason, I have decided that my plane ticket to New Zealand will be a one-way ticket. My studies will end after a year, this is true, but my studies in life will be just beginning. It is at this point that I will begin my trip around the world. This trip will start in New Zealand, Australia, Fiji, and Tonga. I plan to work my way up the map into Indonesia, Bali, Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam, China, India, Russia, The Middle East, Eastern Europe, and finally, Africa. I imagine that a large part of my time will be spent throughout Africa, as there is the most need in this part of the world. After my time in Africa, I hope to work my way to Central and South America, and finally, back to the United States. I am not capping this trip at a year, as I have no way to know what amount of time I should anticipate on each project that I do, nor do I know exactly what projects will arise. I have a fierce savings goal that I am currently pursuing, but will work when I can while abroad. I will work as the people work whether it be on a farm in India or selling vegetables in Tibet. I am doing my best not to worry about the details, for those will fall into place. I have ten months to prepare myself and my mind for this trip to New Zealand, and then a year to deal with the rest…I will be drawn to the projects that need my attention, and stay as long as I am needed. I anticipate a year now, but I will allow for more if that is necessary - without question. It is an amazing feeling to finally have an answer to that ever present pull I feel within myself – the pull to change the world person by person, place by place. I will finally capitalize on my urge to write as well and catalogue my journey. So stay tuned friends, the next few years will be extraordinary.
I am already impressed with the reach of Rotary International. Every corner of the world seems to be brimming with Rotarians who are working on project after project that furthers the mission of the organization. They are building wells in Africa, and working with women across the world and teaching them how to take care of themselves physically and financially. Little girls in India are being given the chance to educate themselves in schools that were dreamed up by Rotarians. Microdevelopment, sustainability, renewable energy, food scarcity, peace and conflict resolution, climate change…these “bigs” in the world – the things that can overwhelm both the individual and society…the things that sometimes feel too staggering to address…are being addressed right now by these amazing people. They need hands on deck for each project. Faith. Vitality. Vision. All qualities I possess and want to dole out immediately. For this reason, I have decided that my plane ticket to New Zealand will be a one-way ticket. My studies will end after a year, this is true, but my studies in life will be just beginning. It is at this point that I will begin my trip around the world. This trip will start in New Zealand, Australia, Fiji, and Tonga. I plan to work my way up the map into Indonesia, Bali, Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam, China, India, Russia, The Middle East, Eastern Europe, and finally, Africa. I imagine that a large part of my time will be spent throughout Africa, as there is the most need in this part of the world. After my time in Africa, I hope to work my way to Central and South America, and finally, back to the United States. I am not capping this trip at a year, as I have no way to know what amount of time I should anticipate on each project that I do, nor do I know exactly what projects will arise. I have a fierce savings goal that I am currently pursuing, but will work when I can while abroad. I will work as the people work whether it be on a farm in India or selling vegetables in Tibet. I am doing my best not to worry about the details, for those will fall into place. I have ten months to prepare myself and my mind for this trip to New Zealand, and then a year to deal with the rest…I will be drawn to the projects that need my attention, and stay as long as I am needed. I anticipate a year now, but I will allow for more if that is necessary - without question. It is an amazing feeling to finally have an answer to that ever present pull I feel within myself – the pull to change the world person by person, place by place. I will finally capitalize on my urge to write as well and catalogue my journey. So stay tuned friends, the next few years will be extraordinary.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Amos Lee
February 8, 2011
It became very apparent to me today while I was watching this week’s Grey’s for the third time (slumped down on the couch so much so that my neck is permanently injured from the contortion)...apparent that I am not dealing with this break up well. Let’s backtrack. September 17 was quite the day for me. It was that day I became a reflection in the rear view mirror for the one person in this world that I am absolutely crazy about. I love him with ferocity, and have not figured out the right way to move forward. It has been roughly four and a half months, and I am nowhere near not missing him every minute. I read somewhere that you should allow half of the time you were together to really get over the grief that sometimes results post relationship. If that is the case, I will need about five more months. Fantastic news. In the meantime, rest assured that I am trying absolutely all of the wrong things. If it is advice, I’ve heard it. If it has been suggested, I’ve tried it. I’ve passed the time with all the wrong people, binge eaten ice cream consistently, taken long hot showers more often than I should (sorry mother earth, I’m working on it), avoided reading the new Nicholas Sparks book, worked out twice a day and cut my caloric intake to about 500 a day for the so called revenge diet, (that last about a month) and have forced myself to go out more often and hang out with new friends – and that just scratches the surface. Everything seemed to come to a head today while spending time with a man friend.
He kept asking me what was wrong – over and over – at which point I puffed up like a fool and started crying so much that my face turned the most attractive shades of red. Phrases like “I just miss him, I can’t breathe without him, I can’t get this brick off my chest, and I can’t believe I lost him” started barreling out. Ladies, boys love it when you talk to them about your exes, believe me. This specific gentleman is a gem (for the most part) and let me soak his grey shirt with snot and tears and held onto me tight. He instructed me that I shouldn’t be dating et al. anyone. At all. Until I’m okay. I imagine that he is right, but this insight happens to conflict with the advice of many of my girlfriends…”the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” This doesn’t have to mean sex of course to anyone reading this…I choose to think it means anything man related in general. These two conflicting ideas have left me in a fair amount of confusion. Why is it that the girls in my life suggest that finding a new man is the best way – and the boys say slow down and focus on me for a while? Could this mean that they, for once, are onto something? And by they I mean men. Because they are the they and we are the we…we being the more logical of the wes and theys. Most times. In this case, I’m not sure which route to go.
Today I feel like throwing in the towel and pulling a Clueless. Ordering myself flowers and shopping for no one but myself and maybe volunteering to remember that I am not the only person in the world. I need to strap my boots back on and check back into life, but I’m at the bottom of the ocean right now and blue. Amos Lee says when you get right down to the bottom of the barrel, you’ll flow back on top. Let’s hope you’re right Amos, because I’m not sure if I like this fragment of myself bit. I’m over it. Who would’ve thought my whole heart would be living in freaking Omaha, NE? My fancy spaceship phone tells me it is -1 degree there right now. Yet another reason I want my heart back. Maybe I will take a vacation. Carnival has cruises out of Baltimore now. Solution.
It became very apparent to me today while I was watching this week’s Grey’s for the third time (slumped down on the couch so much so that my neck is permanently injured from the contortion)...apparent that I am not dealing with this break up well. Let’s backtrack. September 17 was quite the day for me. It was that day I became a reflection in the rear view mirror for the one person in this world that I am absolutely crazy about. I love him with ferocity, and have not figured out the right way to move forward. It has been roughly four and a half months, and I am nowhere near not missing him every minute. I read somewhere that you should allow half of the time you were together to really get over the grief that sometimes results post relationship. If that is the case, I will need about five more months. Fantastic news. In the meantime, rest assured that I am trying absolutely all of the wrong things. If it is advice, I’ve heard it. If it has been suggested, I’ve tried it. I’ve passed the time with all the wrong people, binge eaten ice cream consistently, taken long hot showers more often than I should (sorry mother earth, I’m working on it), avoided reading the new Nicholas Sparks book, worked out twice a day and cut my caloric intake to about 500 a day for the so called revenge diet, (that last about a month) and have forced myself to go out more often and hang out with new friends – and that just scratches the surface. Everything seemed to come to a head today while spending time with a man friend.
He kept asking me what was wrong – over and over – at which point I puffed up like a fool and started crying so much that my face turned the most attractive shades of red. Phrases like “I just miss him, I can’t breathe without him, I can’t get this brick off my chest, and I can’t believe I lost him” started barreling out. Ladies, boys love it when you talk to them about your exes, believe me. This specific gentleman is a gem (for the most part) and let me soak his grey shirt with snot and tears and held onto me tight. He instructed me that I shouldn’t be dating et al. anyone. At all. Until I’m okay. I imagine that he is right, but this insight happens to conflict with the advice of many of my girlfriends…”the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” This doesn’t have to mean sex of course to anyone reading this…I choose to think it means anything man related in general. These two conflicting ideas have left me in a fair amount of confusion. Why is it that the girls in my life suggest that finding a new man is the best way – and the boys say slow down and focus on me for a while? Could this mean that they, for once, are onto something? And by they I mean men. Because they are the they and we are the we…we being the more logical of the wes and theys. Most times. In this case, I’m not sure which route to go.
Today I feel like throwing in the towel and pulling a Clueless. Ordering myself flowers and shopping for no one but myself and maybe volunteering to remember that I am not the only person in the world. I need to strap my boots back on and check back into life, but I’m at the bottom of the ocean right now and blue. Amos Lee says when you get right down to the bottom of the barrel, you’ll flow back on top. Let’s hope you’re right Amos, because I’m not sure if I like this fragment of myself bit. I’m over it. Who would’ve thought my whole heart would be living in freaking Omaha, NE? My fancy spaceship phone tells me it is -1 degree there right now. Yet another reason I want my heart back. Maybe I will take a vacation. Carnival has cruises out of Baltimore now. Solution.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
2011
I came across something the other day that threw me for a bit of a loop. While packing up my house in Fayetteville and moving my things there into storage (DC rooms don't allow for much excess), I stumbled upon a file folder of quizzes, stories, poems, and artwork from K-6th grade. One prompt in bold block letters begged the question - "When I grow up I want to be...." Underneath this half statement was once a page full of blank white paper now yellow with time. When did I grow up enough for my papers to oxidize? In shaky cursive, I began to state my case. "When I grow up, I want to be a writer. Writing makes me happy, and I want to spend my life making everyone smile just like I do." However simplistic, this threw me for quite a loop. When recounting my childhood, I cannot remember my career aspirations before politics. I heard that I had real interest in becoming a flower, but that didn't come to fruition. I have always known that I enjoy writing, but with that comes this feeling of dread. What if people don't like what I write? What if I cannot come up with something to say? Does enjoying writing mean that I should write a novel, and if so, how in the world do you begin to develop a story line and characters? I imagine that every author grapples with these questions at some point in his or her budding career, but at which point is it okay to stop asking these questions and just start writing? Aside from a blog post here or there, I've not actually sat down to write in longer than I can remember. I told myself that I would write in Honduras, and then after the election - but I didn't make time to. I never want to see writing as a chore, but as an outlet. So until some divine inspiration falls down onto me, I guess that I will still be wordless. Maybe I need to shut down my brain for a spell and learn to just be still...maybe in that stillness the words will come.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
I got a job.
While interning at Ducks Unlimited, I have put the pedal to the medal as far as job searching is concerned. I have networked like a fool - dinner, drinks, receptions, calling anyone and everyone I have ever worked for or with - man, it was exhausting. I secured an interview a few weeks ago for an LC position on the hill. The interview went great, but I didn't get the job. First blow to my ego here in DC, but hey, I have zero hill experience so I couldn't blame them. They promoted someone already on staff, so good for that person whoever he is. After that, I got off the search saddle for a bit and just enjoyed my internship with DU. It was not a difficult one - it was actually fun, a wonderful break from others I have had in the past. Around 5 p.m. on Thursday as work was winding down, everyone in the office was cracking their beer and not focused on anything work related. As I'm spinning around in my chair, my phone rings. "Hey Casey - would you still be interested in working for us?" Me: "Uh, does it have the word job associated with it, because if it does, I'm your girl." Just kidding, I didn't really say that in the spirit of not sounding desperate, but let's be honest. I am. So naturally, I said yes and she said "You start Monday at 9 a.m." Well alright. I guess I have a job now. I am not exactly sure what my job title will be or even what I will be doing. I am sure that the salary is awwwwfullll and I will be struggling to pay off my student loans, but they say that is what your first few years are like here in DC. I didn't realize that this sort of lifestyle would merit skipping two meals a day and sleeping on my new friend's air mattress, but you've got to do what you've got to do. Now that I know that I am staying, I am hot on the trail of apartment searching. Finding a decent and affordable place to live in DC is like trying to find a straight guy in Dupont. Impossible. Aside from craigslist, I don't have much to go on except word of mouth so I am hoping that something works out soon. Drifting around is not going to work out for much longer, I am ready to unpack!
It is Saturday night and I am staying in. I know that some would consider that lame, but to me, it's ideal. I am sleepy at 9 every night anyways and I don't really like to drink so I'm good. I spent this day reading an amazing financial planning book called Beyond Paycheck to Paycheck. I learned a lot. Namely, you have to have money to make money. Damniittt. I went to DU and packed up my stuff earlier and then met Tike for lunch. Tike is a friend I met during my layover in ORD, He is an amazing man with a career that most people would die for. He makes bank, travels all over the world, and is seemingly very happy. He is engaging and wonderful, and I am so glad that I have him as a friend. I will probably only get to see him once a month or so, but even so, I think this is the beginning of a beauutiful friendship. We went to Taylor's Deli. Him and I share a serious love for food. It is probable that this is why we get along so well. After lunch, I hit up Macy's and a few other stores. Shopping today = not fun and not successful. True story, I didn't buy a single thing. Those who know me well know that this is a feat. I am starting to get nervous about my first day on Monday. I have no idea what I am going to wear. What if I suck at this new job? What if I hate it? What if the people there are insane? All legitimate concerns, but I am promising myself that I won't complain out loud and that I will make friends with each and every person even if I secretly can't stand them. I am going to be an adult and not curse or gossip. I should insert the word try in there somewhere. Baby steps. At DU, I used more cuss words that regular words on a day to day basis. I will miss that :)
I imagine that it is normal to be this nervous about your first day at a new job. Apparently there is a staff meeting at 10 every Monday. I was told that I am going to be speaking to the staff and telling them about myself - freshman year style sort of thing. I hope I don't turn all red like I usually do when I am nervous. It is not cute. I will rock this just like I rock everything else. That will be my mantra. I hope I like it - If I don't, these next few months are going to be rough. Either way, I made a decision on blind faith, packed a few bags, and headed up here alone. I got a job in the toughest economy in decades, and am living on my own two feet. So no matter what happens, I am proud of myself for doing it - living the life I always said I would, and I can't wait to see what happens next.
It is Saturday night and I am staying in. I know that some would consider that lame, but to me, it's ideal. I am sleepy at 9 every night anyways and I don't really like to drink so I'm good. I spent this day reading an amazing financial planning book called Beyond Paycheck to Paycheck. I learned a lot. Namely, you have to have money to make money. Damniittt. I went to DU and packed up my stuff earlier and then met Tike for lunch. Tike is a friend I met during my layover in ORD, He is an amazing man with a career that most people would die for. He makes bank, travels all over the world, and is seemingly very happy. He is engaging and wonderful, and I am so glad that I have him as a friend. I will probably only get to see him once a month or so, but even so, I think this is the beginning of a beauutiful friendship. We went to Taylor's Deli. Him and I share a serious love for food. It is probable that this is why we get along so well. After lunch, I hit up Macy's and a few other stores. Shopping today = not fun and not successful. True story, I didn't buy a single thing. Those who know me well know that this is a feat. I am starting to get nervous about my first day on Monday. I have no idea what I am going to wear. What if I suck at this new job? What if I hate it? What if the people there are insane? All legitimate concerns, but I am promising myself that I won't complain out loud and that I will make friends with each and every person even if I secretly can't stand them. I am going to be an adult and not curse or gossip. I should insert the word try in there somewhere. Baby steps. At DU, I used more cuss words that regular words on a day to day basis. I will miss that :)
I imagine that it is normal to be this nervous about your first day at a new job. Apparently there is a staff meeting at 10 every Monday. I was told that I am going to be speaking to the staff and telling them about myself - freshman year style sort of thing. I hope I don't turn all red like I usually do when I am nervous. It is not cute. I will rock this just like I rock everything else. That will be my mantra. I hope I like it - If I don't, these next few months are going to be rough. Either way, I made a decision on blind faith, packed a few bags, and headed up here alone. I got a job in the toughest economy in decades, and am living on my own two feet. So no matter what happens, I am proud of myself for doing it - living the life I always said I would, and I can't wait to see what happens next.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Just a settin.
Day 21 living in a hotel…
Megan just told me that I should be blogging about my experiences there. Probably would have started on day one had I known that this was going to turn into a month long experience. On a side note, I don’t know how my fingers are even functioning with this crazy hunger I’ve got going on right now. I have been trying to barter with Megan to get her to come to Moe’s with me a split a burrito – oh the joys of an intern budget. Idle time can make a person go crazy with ideas. I’ve flitted around from one thing to the next this morning. I have been thinking about what in the hell my next step should be, but I keep landing at the same conclusion. 1) I want to be a writer, travel writer to be specific. 2) I need to go ahead and spend the fall in Italy. 3) I am not sure that I want to pass anymore time without Nick beside me. 4) What in the hell am I going to do in Omaha, Nebraska. 5) Is it okay to just do nothing for a while? Take some average, non time consuming part time job and just have fun? Have a huge yard sale, get rid of all my stuff, and get on livin…that’s where I am at right now. Is that irresponsible? I know what will happen – I’m gonna get a job offer the second after I make my mind up to just let loose and live easy. I want to go back to Europe, Asia, New Zealand, Australia…I want to cook and eat and live and love. Eat, Pray, Love style. And that’s okay, right? My fear is that if I do that, just go live with Nick and have fun, that I will get pregnant and then married and fall off the track that I put myself on. I created these ridiculous expectations so why can’t I break them? I think I can, and I think I want to. I want to spend a week cooking, running, picking flowers up and drawing them for no reason – I want to take photography classes and walk dogs and run around like crazy. Real life has not left me anytime for this, and I don’t know what kind of life I am living if I don’t even have time to breathe. The sad thing is that I don’t even have a real job yet and I am already feeling this way. What does that say about our society? Is life meant to be stifling? Are we meant to lose all our creativity to the working world? The key is to find an outlet where you can express yourself – how do we get there? What if I write a book? This is what happens with idle time. I sit and think. Not a good idea.
Megan just told me that I should be blogging about my experiences there. Probably would have started on day one had I known that this was going to turn into a month long experience. On a side note, I don’t know how my fingers are even functioning with this crazy hunger I’ve got going on right now. I have been trying to barter with Megan to get her to come to Moe’s with me a split a burrito – oh the joys of an intern budget. Idle time can make a person go crazy with ideas. I’ve flitted around from one thing to the next this morning. I have been thinking about what in the hell my next step should be, but I keep landing at the same conclusion. 1) I want to be a writer, travel writer to be specific. 2) I need to go ahead and spend the fall in Italy. 3) I am not sure that I want to pass anymore time without Nick beside me. 4) What in the hell am I going to do in Omaha, Nebraska. 5) Is it okay to just do nothing for a while? Take some average, non time consuming part time job and just have fun? Have a huge yard sale, get rid of all my stuff, and get on livin…that’s where I am at right now. Is that irresponsible? I know what will happen – I’m gonna get a job offer the second after I make my mind up to just let loose and live easy. I want to go back to Europe, Asia, New Zealand, Australia…I want to cook and eat and live and love. Eat, Pray, Love style. And that’s okay, right? My fear is that if I do that, just go live with Nick and have fun, that I will get pregnant and then married and fall off the track that I put myself on. I created these ridiculous expectations so why can’t I break them? I think I can, and I think I want to. I want to spend a week cooking, running, picking flowers up and drawing them for no reason – I want to take photography classes and walk dogs and run around like crazy. Real life has not left me anytime for this, and I don’t know what kind of life I am living if I don’t even have time to breathe. The sad thing is that I don’t even have a real job yet and I am already feeling this way. What does that say about our society? Is life meant to be stifling? Are we meant to lose all our creativity to the working world? The key is to find an outlet where you can express yourself – how do we get there? What if I write a book? This is what happens with idle time. I sit and think. Not a good idea.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
That Just Happened...
You know how you constantly promise yourself that you will honor your commitments and sit down to write every single day? Well, that hasn’t happened. The last time I wrote, I was sitting on a porch in Utila thinking “How in the hell am I going to get out of here?” A trip that was so fantastic from the start went from great to horrible in 2.5 seconds. It’s always fun to wake up to someone trying to break into your room in a building that you are staying in alone. The cinder blocks stacked up outside my room in the mornings were icing on the cake. With a little movement of plane tickets and schedules, I was on my way back home. Two weeks away, are you kidding me? Am.a.teur. Looking back, I probably should have sucked it up, but I am easily swayed by the hint of danger in foreign countries. I am reevaluating that decision to leave from my office chair, but hey, I did what I thought was the right thing to do. If I hadn’t left, then I wouldn’t have stayed the night at a sweet place in La Ceiba and eaten the best fish of my life there. In between now and then, I spent some time in Fayetteville and Hot Springs with friends and family, and am now city slickin in Washington D.C. I took an internship with Ducks Unlimited, and that is where I currently sit. As I age, I feel like complaining has become more of a habit than it used to be, and I just don’t like it. This internship, not the best – the days crawl, and I mean crawl by, because there is nothing for us to do. There are too many interns in a place with not enough to do, so we try to engage each other by having mini debates and making fun of Michael’s Justin Bieber hair. Hey, it could be much much worse as far as internships go, but seriously, I’m 23 and a damn intern. Not. Okay. I came here to find a job. “Don’t come home without a job” was Nick’s little catchphrase. Welp everyone, I still don’t have a job.
Finding a job here in D.C. has been something I eat, sleep, and breathe. I am a cover letter writing machine and I pump those resumes out like a mad person. I had one job interview, and it went really well. Well enough that I didn’t get the job. However, I did get the “we LOVEDDD you so much, if ANYTHING else comes open would you consider it?” speech. Apparently that is the customary, you suck, try again speech and I just don’t realize it.
Crazy things happen in this town. Every. Single. Day. Today for example some crazy woman starts screaming in my ear while I am trying to enjoy my mediocre sandwich. She says “Obama deserves to die! He is the reason that I am a prostitute on 4th and L. He is black just like the pimp I work for. Fuck Obama!” Alright, sorry about your luck, could you not scream in my face? Thanks you crazy bitch.
Ashton tells me this story the other day – so she’s walking down the street and gets hassled by some man in a wheelchair for money. She says hey so sorry, I don’t have any cash. He says oh no problem, have a nice day, enjoy your legs. He has none. How in the world do you respond to that?
During my housing search I go check out a place in Logan Circle and make a silly comment about how the house looks exactly like a house from a scary movie with it’s “old charm.” The owner looks at me and says “well, my boys have told me that they have seen, um, little ghost children.” Me: “Uh, are you serious?” Owner: “Yes, but I’ve never seen them, so don’t worry about it.” I’ll pass, thanks.
This story is my favorite, the icing on the cake if you will. My DC roommate, Ashton and I have run into a sort of unfortunate situation here in D.C. We had a place for a month and then had to move out suddenly. We thought hey, no worries, we’ll live in a hotel for a bit until we find a place. That was in June. It is now July 22 and we are still in a hotel. We have lived in 3 different rooms in 2 different hotels. En route to our current hotel room, Ashton and I are moving our own luggage from the lobby to the 8th floor. We have a large amount of stuff, including our house stuff from the last place. The cart is big and heavy and the elevator is not so big. We get the cart jammed in the door and spaghetti noodles and a bottle of oil spill out. There are two girls, probably a few years younger than us, sharing the elevator with us. They are quiet at first and just observe mine and Ashton’s … outburst if you will. We are tired, frustrated, and sick to death of being in a hotel, so the string of obscenities that came out when our groceries hit the floor and the cart got stuck weren’t pretty. The two girls offer their assistance and follow us out onto our floor. They look at each other and say…”Can we join hands?”
Um, what? Yes, join hands. I needed a prayer, so hey, let’s do this. This so called prayer turned into a two to three minute long crazy speech with one girl speaking and the other girl moaning “oh lord” porn star style. Imagine the most awkward situation possible and you can understand how hard I was trying not to laugh. My lip had blood on it from biting it so hard. True story. After the prayer, one girl tries to force Ashton and I to take clothes from her. She pulls an H&M bag out from her purse and says “While we were praying, God told me to give you these clothes. I don’t want to, but he said I have to.” This turned into a five minute barter session of..here’s why I don’t want your clothes you random crazy girl. As Ashton and I are carting our luggage to our room, one yells down the hall at us – “Pay attention to your dreams tonight!” Scary.
Finding a job here in D.C. has been something I eat, sleep, and breathe. I am a cover letter writing machine and I pump those resumes out like a mad person. I had one job interview, and it went really well. Well enough that I didn’t get the job. However, I did get the “we LOVEDDD you so much, if ANYTHING else comes open would you consider it?” speech. Apparently that is the customary, you suck, try again speech and I just don’t realize it.
Crazy things happen in this town. Every. Single. Day. Today for example some crazy woman starts screaming in my ear while I am trying to enjoy my mediocre sandwich. She says “Obama deserves to die! He is the reason that I am a prostitute on 4th and L. He is black just like the pimp I work for. Fuck Obama!” Alright, sorry about your luck, could you not scream in my face? Thanks you crazy bitch.
Ashton tells me this story the other day – so she’s walking down the street and gets hassled by some man in a wheelchair for money. She says hey so sorry, I don’t have any cash. He says oh no problem, have a nice day, enjoy your legs. He has none. How in the world do you respond to that?
During my housing search I go check out a place in Logan Circle and make a silly comment about how the house looks exactly like a house from a scary movie with it’s “old charm.” The owner looks at me and says “well, my boys have told me that they have seen, um, little ghost children.” Me: “Uh, are you serious?” Owner: “Yes, but I’ve never seen them, so don’t worry about it.” I’ll pass, thanks.
This story is my favorite, the icing on the cake if you will. My DC roommate, Ashton and I have run into a sort of unfortunate situation here in D.C. We had a place for a month and then had to move out suddenly. We thought hey, no worries, we’ll live in a hotel for a bit until we find a place. That was in June. It is now July 22 and we are still in a hotel. We have lived in 3 different rooms in 2 different hotels. En route to our current hotel room, Ashton and I are moving our own luggage from the lobby to the 8th floor. We have a large amount of stuff, including our house stuff from the last place. The cart is big and heavy and the elevator is not so big. We get the cart jammed in the door and spaghetti noodles and a bottle of oil spill out. There are two girls, probably a few years younger than us, sharing the elevator with us. They are quiet at first and just observe mine and Ashton’s … outburst if you will. We are tired, frustrated, and sick to death of being in a hotel, so the string of obscenities that came out when our groceries hit the floor and the cart got stuck weren’t pretty. The two girls offer their assistance and follow us out onto our floor. They look at each other and say…”Can we join hands?”
Um, what? Yes, join hands. I needed a prayer, so hey, let’s do this. This so called prayer turned into a two to three minute long crazy speech with one girl speaking and the other girl moaning “oh lord” porn star style. Imagine the most awkward situation possible and you can understand how hard I was trying not to laugh. My lip had blood on it from biting it so hard. True story. After the prayer, one girl tries to force Ashton and I to take clothes from her. She pulls an H&M bag out from her purse and says “While we were praying, God told me to give you these clothes. I don’t want to, but he said I have to.” This turned into a five minute barter session of..here’s why I don’t want your clothes you random crazy girl. As Ashton and I are carting our luggage to our room, one yells down the hall at us – “Pay attention to your dreams tonight!” Scary.
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