The Lies of Motherhood

I'm half-thinking about creating a new blog entirely and calling it "The Lies of Motherhood," because every day I have to laugh at myself for thinking that this was going to be slightly more predictable and easier than it is. 

Here are my thoughts of the day:

Lie #1 of Motherhood:  You won't be able to leave your child's side for at least the first six months.

Ok, look it is hard for me to leave Abby for more than an hour or two.  But any time I hear a mom say "Oh, I just enjoy being with him/her so much that I don't really need to have any time to myself," I throw up a little in my mouth.  Stop.  Just stop.  You are a human being.  And human beings need the occasional five-minute increments of silence (or, in my case, the occasional five-minute increments of listening to the car radio at a higher volume).  Start being honest with yourself.  Or, if you are a parent that truly feels this way...knock it off.  You're making the rest of us look bad. 

Furthermore, I get that there may be some insecurities associated with leaving the little peanut.  In my case, I leave Abby with either my parents or my hubby's parents.  All four people have had years upon years of experience raising kidlets.  There's really no reason for me to fret when she's with them.  So, am I a little anxious when I walk out the door?  Sure.  Do I tell myself to shut the !@#$ up and get myself a latte while I can?  Absolutely.  And do I enjoy every sip of that latte (as well as all of the noises that come along with making a latte)?  You bet your gosh darn tookus I do.  (Sorry, working on cleaning up the language before my peanut becomes a parrot.) 

Lie #2 of Motherhood:  Only I know what will calm down my child.

Again, I say "nay nay."  Just the other day, while visiting Naomi (a good friend who has been a nanny for more kids than I can say), Crabigail was threatening to make a full-fledged appearance.  Naomi scooped her up and started swinging her in a way that I've never tried, and her little eyes just lit up with delight.  I logged that one away in the back of my brain for future reference.

Sure, Tim & I know Abby better than anyone else, and we're going to be able to tell by even the slightest cry what she's asking for (most days, that is).  But when she's fussy, it's basically just a marathon of "Let's try this" or "Let's try that" moments until we finally find something that soothes the savage beast.  I'm not too proud of a person to close the doors to possible soothing techniques for my kid, especially when I'm so new at this. 

Lie #3 of Motherhood:  Life before your child will seem so meaningless now.

I think about this one all the time.  Now, on this one, I'm willing to fully admit that I may be of the minority opinion.  But the truth is my life before was not meaningless at all, and I actually think of all the little moments and big accomplishments of the past with a high level of fondness in my heart.  And my life now is so incredibly wonderful that I can't imagine it any differently.  The point is - it's comparing apples and oranges.  All of the joy, sadness, anxiety, and excitement that I felt in life has led me up to this point, and all of those life experiences are going to make me a better mother.  I don't feel like I can shrug that off as meaningless.  Furthermore, I would be a liar if I said I didn't miss certain parts of my pre-baby life.  I miss being able to go out for drinks and hand my hubby the keys at the end of the night.  I miss cooking dinner on a regular basis.  I miss being able to spontaneously do anything.  But that doesn't mean that I don't appreciate and love my life now!  

I actually get somewhat frustrated when I hear people say that being a stay at home mom is harder than any other job on the planet for this same reason.  Again - apples and oranges in my book.  The level of exhaustion that I feel after a sleepless night and a restless day with my munchkin is so starkly different than the exhaustion I felt as a full-time graduate student who worked two jobs and picked up extra hours as a babysitter on the side.  The level of stress from one lifestyle is not greater than the other because they aren't even comparable.  I will say this, though - the rewards that you feel from the job of stay at home mom are so much greater than any reward I received from a business or non-profit organization. 

Annnnnd that's all the time that the little one will allow me to have. 

Caribou: A Eulogy

Well, until my daughter chooses to nap on a regular basis, there will be no regular blog postings.  Sorry, avid readers!!  (Bahaha...avid readers of my blog....)

I received some incredibly sad news the other day:  The Caribou Coffee which I worked at and frequented for what felt like a lifetime will be permanently shutting its doors as of this Sunday at noon. 

Let's be honest, Caribou was never exactly a stellar work environment when you viewed it from the "Does corporate take care of their underlings?" viewpoint.  For starters, there were no breaks.  Ever.  How they wiggled around that whole legal issue was the whole "flexible employer" bit that they wrote into their handbook - "Hey, you can take your break whenever you want!  We won't schedule you a break 'cause we don't want to hold you down like that.  Aren't we awesome?!"  Well, not quite, 'cause in what retail or food service position can you possibly find time to sit down and get some food in your system?  No, avid readers, the only time you got a break was if you were a smoker - or when you worked with someone who you could trust behind the counter alone for more than five minutes.  Secondly, Caribou always was looking for a way to dock your pay.  Whether you decided to move up the corporate ladder (and therefore not receive tips), or stay a shift supervisor (and get cut in wages if you worked with another shift supervisor), corporate got really creative at unnecessarily pinching your pennies out of your pocket. 

Now, I - unlike my friends and former coworkers - did not lose my job.  I left my shift supervisor position at Caribou a while back when I got a position at Trader Joe's.  I made the switch for the main motivator of any work-related decision:  TJ's paid me a whole lot more, both in actual dolla dolla bills and in benefits.  But I found myself constantly coming back to Caribou to visit and work on my homework for my graduate degree, and it wasn't just 'cause you got unlimited refills on coffee when you stuck around for hours at a time.  It was all about the people.  The Caribou that I worked at was very good at one thing in particular, and that was picking the best of the best people to work there.  I truly enjoyed working there because I knew that I would always leave with a smile on my face.  The employees were quirky, hilarious, hard-working, and (usually) highly intelligent.

And the customers?  Well, there's always a couple that will get under your skin.  I always joked with people that I would one day write a book called The Barista Chronicles, simply because 1.) You couldn't make the !@#$ up that I've seen and heard from people, and 2.) It's not like I worked at a bar - you couldn't blame the crazy on one too many shots. 

Here's a fun example that, I swear to you, I will never forget as long as I live.  It was a snowy day during the holiday season, so shopping was in full-force and there were a bunch of non-regulars in our store that wanted their large, white chocolate, peppermint mochas fifteen minutes ago.  I was working with two newer employees, and we had a full lobby and a line halfway to the door.  I'm working on register and the other two employees were doing a pretty good job at working a double person bar.  Up walks a woman in her late-fifties.  She was pretty put-together - long, white hair, make-up was on flawlessly, wearing a dress coat with a nicer purse.  She put her purse on the counter and angrily spat her order at me, then huffed as I gave her the price of her drink with a big ol' smile on my face (sorry, I refuse to let grumpy customers make me grumpy...and besides, my happiness usually just peeved them off more, and I enjoyed that).  She paid (and didn't tip), then moved to the pick-up counter.  While I was taking the next customer's order, I heard her snap at my coworkers - "Could you hurry up please?!  I have a baby in the car."

Now, it was snowing outside.  Heavily.  And this woman had four drinks in front of hers that had to be made.  My two coworkers looked at me absolutely horrified.  I told them to both get on register and I would take care of it - simply because I wouldn't take her crap.  I KNEW she didn't have a baby with her - she just knew the magic words to get her froo-froo drink without having to wait.  So, I quickly served up her beverage, and she said "Oh, I didn't want you to put me before anyone else."  I responded curtly with "Well, I sure wouldn't want to potentially endanger a life because your drink took too long."  She scooped her drink up and went to sit a high-top table with her husband.  At no point did a baby come into the picture.  What a shocker. 

So, while I was out in the lobby, wiping down tables and refilling sugar canisters, the woman comes back up to me and barks -

"I just want to let you know that we are leaving, because I don't like sitting at a table that's so high that it makes me feel like I'm sitting on a perch." 

"...Um, alright.  Well, enjoy the rest of your day!"

"You know, you really should do something about all of these college students.  Taking up tables all day with their books..."

*suppressed snort of laughter*

"I'm serious!  You should ban them from your shop."

At this point, I just couldn't deal with it anymore.  "Right.  'Cause that will work out great in a college town."

Like I said, you can't make this up. 

But, there will also be the customers that I will never, ever forget because of how they touched my life.  Like Hank - the highly intelligent, highly sarcastic, and all around amazing guy who ordered a small cup of coffee in his handmade mug (and the older the "sludge" at the bottom of the pot, the better).  Hank is the kind of guy that you truly look forward to seeing at work, because you could choose the level of conversation you wanted to have.  If you wanted a mindless chat about how much you couldn't stand your hours being slashed, you've got it.  If you wanted an intellectual conversation about the polarization of the House and the Senate, you could pick his brain for hours.  Or Tony - the regular who owned the Hallmark across the plaza.  He would go out of his way to bring us balloons, flowers, or even chocolate, just because he appreciated our smiles at the start of his day. 

All in all, the closing of Caribou is a forced closing of a wonderful chapter in my life:

• Caribou was the first place I went to when my husband deployed to Afghanistan, because I knew Joe and Alex would be there to give me a hug, let me awkwardly cry, and make me a kick-ass, super-fatty cup of hot chocolate.  
• Lauren and I shared many beers at the BWW's across the street after long closes, 'cause we knew we could trust each other enough to bitch about work just long enough so it would feel good, but then move on to new topics quick enough where we could leave the night on a fantastic note.  
• Kevin and I shared way, way too many awkward laughs behind the counter while discussing the most horrific B-movies we had ever seen (followed by in-depth conversations about religion and history).  
• Greg...well, it always amazed me that Greg never got fired.  Work was just way too damn fun when he was around.  Between hiding timers for the next shift to have to find, freezing peoples' tips (I think our buddy Ryan even put some in jello at one point)...there was no end to the madness.
• Jan had a way of reminding me that you could be polite to people without taking any of their crap, and I loved every minute I worked with her.  

If I had a horrible day, I went to Caribou.  If I needed to study, I went to Caribou.  If I wanted to share in the joy of something such as finishing my masters project or learning I was pregnant, I went to Caribou.  I didn't even mind helping people close up shop so we could all get out early to grab a drink at Limelight - it was just that kind of place. 

When I look back on my life and I reflect on all of the nonsense I had to go thru while I sifted through my twenties, I will always, always remember the coffee shop and the Bou crew with nothing but the most profound fondness in my heart.  I'm going to miss that place and people there terribly. 

I miss blogging terribly

Realistically, I think at this point I just kind of miss "me time."  SO MUCH has changed since the last time I even looked at my blog, and so much of it is absolutely wonderful, but it doesn't change the fact that I greet the setting of the sun with nothing but exhaustion and thoughts of my head hitting the pillow, nothing more. 

On a side note, does anyone have any idea how to change my primary email account to log into blogspot?  I haven't used the email that's associated with this blog in a ridiculously long time.

Well, rather than getting into a personal blog about what's different and how, I thought I'd start off with something fun.  A friend, Rakhi, tagged me in one of these fun lil' "answer 11 questions" blog.  I thought it'd be a good introduction back into the swing of things while my little peanut is napping.  So - here we go! 

1) What is your greatest gift? 

 

This is a no brainer to me.  My family.  Hands down.  I find myself thanking God for my husband and my daughter throughout the course of the entire day.  His ability to make me laugh and his overwhelming support and love on a 24/7 basis, and her ability to melt my heart and transform my whole perspective on life within the blink of an eye...it's truly overwhelming.  Plus, just to add to the "gift" factor, we were told over a year ago that we probably wouldn't be able to have kids when I was diagnosed with PCOS.  What a wonderful shock when we found out we were pregnant!! 

2) What makes you joyful?

 

Oh there are so, so many good answers to this question.  True joy for me, though, comes from honest to goodness laughter.  I'm talking hand on the belly, tears in the eyes laughter.  I have a few friends that have a direct line to my funny bone, and a few trusted TV shows that I can usually turn to...but honestly, the awkward moments in life are the ones that just bring so much unexpected laughter into my everyday meanderings.

Example:  Yesterday, hubby, baby and I were sitting patiently in our car, waiting for our pizza at the best local joint to finish cookin'.  Out of nowhere, a woman in her mid-to-late 50's (and thoroughly spaced out, might I add) came up to the driver's side of the car and proceeded to try to open it and get in.  We didn't want to make her feel like an idiot, but, well, it was our car, and we had been sitting in it for quite some time.  So we chose the path of awkward silence while we stared at her, hoping that the moment would pass quickly if we stood absolutely still (because, apparently, women in their mid-to-late 50's are like T-Rexes, and their vision is based on movement).  She finally noticed us, and continued to stare into the car with this look of pure, utter confusion on her face, as if to say "This is supposed to be my car, and it's not, and you're in it, and I don't know why."  After a few more moments of what can only be described as "tension," she finally wandered off and got into her vehicle (at least I hope it was her vehicle).  Good point to add in:  her vehicle was a grey SUV.  We drive a black Ford Focus.  Just sayin'.  

3) What is one blog you faithfully read?

 

Um, well, I don't really faithfully read any blogs.  There are a few blogs that friends write that I'll read through when I think of it, and pinterest has me hooked on various cooking blogs...but that's truly about it.  I lead a non-exciting blog life.  

 

4) What is your favorite book and why?

 

Throw me on a desert island with enough prep time to grab food, water, a journal, and only one book, and without hesitation, I will grab my beaten up copy of To Kill A Mockingbird.  I have read this book more times than I can count, and the reason that I love the book more than any other is because as I grow and change in a variety of ways, so, too, does my perspective on the characters of the book.  It was incredible to me how I related to each character more or less depending on what stage of life I was in...Scout, Jem, Atticus, even obnoxious Dill to a certain extent.  

When baby girl is old enough for her first honest to goodness chapter book with some meat to it, I will give her a copy of To Kill A Mockingbird, and I can only hope that she'll love it as much as I have throughout the years.  

5) If you had to play a fictional character in a movie, who would it be and why?

 

I'm taking creative liberty here and using a fictional character from a TV show.  I'm currently all about the character of Maggie in "The Walking Dead."  I'll do my absolute best to break down her layers of awesome so you can truly understand why I wouldn't want to be anyone but Maggie:

• Her ability to swallow her pride (after a while) and recognize when she's wrong.  She still allows herself a decent amount of time for standing her ground in stubborn, sassy fashion.
• Her simplicity.  She's a farm girl that still has a sense of style that I really like.
• Her ability to speak her mind to her family and boyfriend without reservation.
• Last, but certainly not least, she is a BAD ASS.  Takin' out zombies and standing her own personal ground with the living - that's what I'm talkin' about!! 

6) If you had to eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?

 

 I love Mexican food, particularly nachos with either ground beef, pulled chicken, or pulled pork.  And lots of cheese.  With extra jalapenos.  And sour cream.  Oh my gosh, I'm so hungry.

 

7) If you could hire help for one thing in your life, what would it be?

 

 Cleaning out my car.  And I'm not talking about just picking up my trash.  I want White Lightning (my beloved white Ford Focus) detailed on a bi-weekly basis.  And I want an air freshener that smells like someone just cracked a bag of gummy bears.

 

8) How are you Christ's hands and feet in the world today?

 

I actively seek to be open-minded and compassionate to each individual that I meet.  I choose to listen and comfort even those who I strongly disagree with.  This doesn't just apply to strangers.  There's a very short list of people that I truly don't care for, but even when it comes to those "select" few, I pray for patience and acknowledge their feelings and opinions.  It may not seem like the biggest way to bring the Kingdom of Heaven to the Earth, but I feel like it's the first step that we could all take to try and make life a bit more peaceful and humane.  

 

9) What is your biggest pet peeve?

Funny enough, my mom and I were just talking about this today.  Currently, my biggest pet peeve is people who I refer to as "one-uppers."  I dealt with one-uppers a lot when I was pregnant.  I didn't have the worst pregnancy on the planet, but I certainly didn't have the easiest pregnancy, either.  And my delivery was so. freaking. awful.  Now, women in general always ask how you're feeling when you're pregnant or immediately after your delivery - it's a beautiful community of compassion and commiseration.  However, it's littered with women who always have to say how they were better/worse off than you.

"How are you feeling, Pam?"
"Not too bad.  The sciatica thing is for the birds, but I'm getting through it."
"You have no idea what it's like to have a rough pregnancy.  Why, when I was pregnant...etc etc"

"You're getting close to the big day, Pam!  Are you ready for it?"
"Oh my gosh, yes.  I'm so uncomfortable."
"You know, you should just be happy that you're pregnant.  When I was trying to get pregnant...etc etc"

So, in conclusion, people who ask you how you're doing, and you give them either a positive or negative response, and they immediately turn the subject to how they are SOOOO much more positive or negative than you - those people drive me absolutely batshit crazy.  

Oh, and people who text while driving.  Effing hate that.   

 

10) What is your greatest fear?

 

After losing my Papa last September, I've discovered that the loss of my closest loved ones is something that absolutely terrifies me.  Specifically - every time there's talk of another potential deployment for my hubby, my heart drops into the pit of my stomach.  Take every material possession that I own.  My house, my car, my clothes, even my beloved copy of To Kill A Mockingbird that I mentioned earlier...none of that would phase me as much as the loss of another loved one in my life, particularly the loss of my husband.  

 

11) When you are having a bad day, what is one thing that is sure to turn it around?

 

Any level of sweetness from the hubby is always wonderful, and I've quickly discovered that my baby girl's smiles will melt away any and all frustration and anxiety that I've been feeling during recent sleepless nights and crying spells.  That's an obvious answer, though.  The least obvious answers would be:  a super hot bubble bath with a glass of wine and a good book, a nice long car ride with a hot beverage of some kind, a rum & coke while watching South Park reruns, or playing board games with friends. 

The Terrifying Truth About Graduating (Again)

Ah, cap and gown, we meet again. Third time is the charm, right? ...Right? *cricket chirps*

...You hear all of these guarantees about going just a little further in school. "You'll land a job easier." "The whole 'five years or more experience' on job postings will be null and void once you have your master's." "You may as well go back to school, because no one is hiring now anyways. Don't worry about taking on more unpaid internships."

Here's the truth: There's no longer a secret-ish recipe for employment success. There's no set amount of degrees, internships, or quantities of ramen noodles consumed that will instantly land you the job that you envisioned when you walked across that stage to finally (finally) receive your diploma. You're going to get out into the real world and look (and look...and look...) for that just-right-opportunity, and you're going to have to put in your networking and door-knocking time, just like every other person.

Don't get me wrong - working towards my master's degree has been one of the most challenging and rewarding experiences for me. It went beyond the classroom, though. For starters, there were some courses that were more rewarding than others (which you'll find in any program at any university), but each class had its own unique opportunity for me to broaden my horizons. Whether it was re-learning how to work in a group setting (regardless of your level of expertise, you will always be stuck in groups where someone is not fully pulling their weight)how to network properly and maintain relationships with professionals (*tip* Four words: fancy clothes and beer), or how to pull yourself through a project that doesn't interest you in the slightest - I learned a lot of valuable lessons on how to proceed forward in the working world.

Aside from the various educational moments, a whole lot of "life" happened in the two and a half years that I was in the program. A moment of self-pride here: I learned how to pull myself through just about anything. I had an unbelievable amount of support from family and friends, but when it came down to it, my master's degree was the moment where I had to decide what level of success I demanded of myself.

So what is the terrifying truth of graduating again? The economy is still daunting, and most people don't want to give my resume even an initial glance. I'm an intelligent and hard working young woman, but I'm still young, the cardinal sin in the professional world. The piece of paper with "Master of Public Administration" written across the top and the honor cords around my neck will not determine anything for me. Only I can decide where everything will go from here.

Terrifying. Empowering, but terrifying.

A Year of Change

My life has always moved at a stunningly fast pace, which is a cause for concern for both friends and families. There are days (weeks, months, years) where I disappear off of the map entirely, only to reappear out of the blue, gasping for a breath of fresh air and a cold drink. I'll stay for a few minutes, just long enough to remind myself of how much I love and miss the important people in my life, and then I'll force myself to jump back into the chaos of life and to keep my focus on the light at the end of the tunnel.

This year's pace hasn't altered one bit from the standard. The main difference is I'm at the finish line for so many different aspects of my life that I have to concentrate with all of my might to not lose momentum - all while kick-starting the next phase, which includes a whole lot of work and worries.

My marriage to Tim has started a whole new chapter of my life on so many levels that I couldn't even begin to explain all of the joy (and complexities) that comes along with it. The newest development has been house hunting, which is tremendously exciting. The start of a new life in a new home...it's hard to really wrap my head around it.

Grad school is finally coming to a close. Two long years of continuous studying, presentations, group work, and essays - all coming to a sudden conclusion, complete with a peacock blue tassel and hood, honor cords, and fancy piece of paper. I look back on all of the people that have influenced me and pushed me in the right direction over the course of both my undergrad and grad degree, and I'm overwhelmed with gratitude. I don't even know how to fully say "thank you" to these people.

Work opportunities aren't exactly presenting themselves like I had anticipated, but I've made the switch from the Bou to Trader Joe's, only because of the increase in pay and potential "plan B" management opportunities. It's been a bittersweet transition. I'm looking forward to meeting new people and experiencing something different, but over the past four years, the Bou surpassed a "workplace" and became a little oasis for me when things got rough.

Moral of the story: transitions are terrifyingly beautiful.

Signs that I'm turning into the crazy cat lady

1. I have two of them. And I still refer to my mom & dad's cat as "my cat." So three cats. I feel like somewhere, off in the distance, there's some prophet looking into a glass ball, saying ominously "It begins..."

2. When describing my two cats, rather than explaining them as "an all black cat" and a "calico," I talk about them as if they have distinct characteristics and personality traits, like a person. "My one cat's name is Goblin, and he's morbidly obese. My other cat's name is Gypsy, and she's the bane of my existence."

3. I talk to my cats in two ways. The first way is a simple you-meow-I-meow conversation. The second is more of a reprimanding...I have to continuously remind both of my cats that they're not human beings. "Stop sitting at the table. And don't sit on the table either." "Potato chips aren't for cats." "STOP TRYING TO DRINK OUT OF MY GLASS. YOU'RE NOT A PERSON." Either way, they're used to me acknowledging them constantly, because Moses forbid I'm on the phone with someone, they'll follow me around and cry to the heavens until I turn around and shout at them (which, in their cat brains, is the equivalent of me basking in their feline glory).

4. The cats did something ridiculous? Break something? Run head-first into a piece of furniture that has always, always been in the same spot? Don't worry - I'll be sure to start the conversation with my husband by saying "You will not believe what your cats did today."

5. My inhumane schedule prevents me from having a real social life, so sometimes my cat stories are the only ones that have any level of humor to them. People don't really appreciate them. "Goblin was drinking water the other day, looked up at me, and being the idiot he is, wanted to meow and drink at the same time. So he meowed, and all of the water that he forgot to swallow fell out of his mouth and went all over the ground. Then he looked at it, as if he didn't know where it came from." *cricket chirps*

6. I wrote a blog post about my cats. Case in point.

Wedding Planning: The Ultimate Lenten Challenge

Background note: I'm already a married woman. Tim and I decided in October of 2011 that we wanted to commit to each other marriage before he had to deploy to Afghanistan. We quickly planned the whole thing (6 days, to be specific), met at the Justice of Peace with two friends and our parents, and said our vows. Thirteen days later, he was on a plane heading across the world. He's home, safe and sound (thank You, God), and we decided to plan a day to celebrate the Sacrament of Marriage at my home parish, along with a proper celebration with our friends and family.

Ladies and gents, take my advice - just get married at the JOP and leave it at that. Or go to your home parish and wed secretly with only God, the Priest, and your folks present. Plan an after-party barbeque, and leave it at that. Because this whole wedding planning thing will drive you to drink.

I've found that it's really easy to let the materialistic culture of a wedding consume and cloud my mind, when really this is an intensely personal, yet public moment of love, trust, and faith between two individuals. It has been such a struggle wrenching my mind from the stress of what the hall will look like and what decorations I should purchase or rent, which is really shocking for me because I am by no means a materialistic. I'm not the type of person to sit online for hours and look at the different things that I want to buy, what will make me look "unique," and how many hours I'll need to work to afford these things that, on any other day, I would care nothing about.

But, to be frank, this is the most pressure I've ever been under in my life. The wedding is, in theory, a direct reflection of the couple's love, the parents' support of the couple, and the overall creativity of the bride.

I can hear family members and friends now - "It's your day - we just want you to be happy!" I have a whole plethora of issues with this statement. For starters, it's not my day. It's a day to celebrate the friendship, love, and commitment that my husband and I share. I refuse to give into the temptation of "This is what I've dreamed about since I was a little girl, and therefore, we're going to do it this way." Don't get me wrong - compromise on some issues really hasn't been my forte. The wedding shower in particular has been the biggest battle. Meshing what I have in my brain as the ideal day with what my in-laws are expecting has been so difficult and frustrating. It's only through the power of proper breathing and prayer that I've been able to take a step back and remind myself that, in the grand scheme of things, the wedding shower is a small dot on the spectrum of life that Tim and I will be spending together.

Furthermore, the wedding is celebrating the fact that our families have all shown us what it means to love, how to cherish one another, how to stay committed 'til death do us part. At the end of the day, it's not about the centerpieces, the chair covers, the food, the DJ, or the dress. The thought process, in my opinion, should be "My family taught me how to love. My belief in a loving God has expanded my capacity to love. I love you that much and then some. I'm with you for life, no matter what it brings." So, because my family and his family play such a huge role in this equation, they deserve a certain level of participation and say in how the day will progress.

...I just have to continually remind myself of that as I pour over menu after menu for restaurants that are potential wedding shower sites. Two more hours, and I'll have reached the socially-acceptable time to pour myself a rum and coke.

I'm alright with being angry about this. You should be, too.

To all who have subscribed (or even casually followed) my blog - I'm sorry for the prolonged silence. Grad school and an unbearable work schedule have forced me to temporarily set aside any and all hobbies, including leisurely reading and writing.

Anyways, moving on to the latest societal factor that is making me twitch.

I have been inundated with commercials for an upcoming movie called "No Strings Attached." I can't escape them - they're literally everywhere. TV, radio, Pandora, Facebook, Netflix Instant Queue, even in the Center for Student Activities at OU. I understand that this is pretty typical for movie advertisements. My complaint is that I have no desire to see this movie - or even associate myself with it - and I simply do not have the option of clicking it off and ignoring it.

So, a bit of rage has begun to bubble...and rather than risk an aneurysm, I'll just blog about it.

As of this point, I know the ins and outs of the entire plot. Natalie Portman plays a successful and incredibly busy woman, whose best friend is the charmingly idiotic Ashton Kutcher. She decides to offer the proposition of becoming sex friends - friends that have sex casually whenever they feel the bodily urge, with no commitment and no feelings past the physical. The one rule to this arrangement is that they can't let their emotions get out of hand. One scene in the advertisement actually shows Portman and Kutcher in bed after sex, with Portman encouraging Kutcher to avoid snuggling afterwards in order to avoid making things weird. So, as one would expect, Kutcher ends up beginning to fall in love with Portman, and the advertisement ends with Portman shouting "Why can't we just have sex?!" before flashing to the opening date of the film.

How sweet.

At what point did we become OK with this? If a man were to tell a woman "Why can't we just have sex?", he would be considered a chauvinist pig. But if a woman goes down this path, she's liberated, successful and sexy.

Am I the only woman on the planet who sees a slight problem with this?

I'm currently working on getting through my Master's program with a GPA of 3.7 or higher. I'm also picking up multiple side jobs whenever possible, not just for the money, but for the experience and possible connections that they might bring. And despite all of the work that I will be putting into my degree, all of the late nights and early mornings, and all of the things that I will put on hold to make this happen - I am constantly barraged with disturbing statistics. Women will make, on average, 70 cents to every dollar that a man makes for the same job. Women typically only have a 50% chance of receiving pay when they go on maternity leave. And women are not given managerial positions nearly as often as men are.

So yeah, needless to say, movies that portray the epitome of a successful and beautiful woman to be one that wants nothing more than a sexual relationship where she uses another human being is a tad frustrating.

I understand that solely watching this movie is not going to encourage the female population to start having casual sex friendships while abandoning all other dreams. But the fact of the matter is, our pop culture defines our society. It defines the level of acceptability. Not only do I want more for myself than just a good job and a casual sex friendship with no emotional attachment, but I want my future daughters to aspire - no, demand - more than that. Women should aspire to be, amongst a myriad of other things, intelligent, strong, compassionate, beautiful, and yes, sexy. But it takes a lot more to make a woman of that caliber than just, well, sex.

Being a strong, successful woman is so much more than the ability to take off your clothes and enjoy sex with no societal pressure. And I'm so disgustingly disappointed to see that the majority of women simply don't care to understand that.

I thought only Paris Hilton did that

It started when she first walked in the door - I said hello, and she said "Do you guys have almond milk?"

She was about 100 pounds soaking wet, and her skin was that burnt-cookie color that tends to only be associated with insecure, self-absorbed young adults and chameleons blending into the bark of a tree. Dressed in pristine, ankle-high heeled boots, a pre-torn denim skirt with a studded belt, and a black tank, you would've thought that she had stopped in to caffienate before going to a dance club complete with martinis and overly paid athletes. The problem is it was 5 o'clock on a Tuesday night - in Michigan.

After correcting her assumption that no, the title of "dark chocolate" does not in any way imply that it's vegan, she decided to go with a Black Thai Tea Latte, complete with an absurd amount of artificial flavorings and soy milk ("I just don't understand why no one carries almond milk," she complained pitifully, as if I could use my barista magic to contact the great Almond Cow and beg for a gift of it's precious milk).

As she walked out the door, I realized that in her overly-large prada purse was a tiny, shivering chihuahua, which looked back at me mournfully as she flipped her hair back and pulled her Droid phone out of her pocket. I didn't realize that creatures could look like they were experiencing suicidal thoughts until that moment.

Coffee Shop Thoughts

A cliche goal in life is to write and successfully publish a book. I've been tossing the idea around in my brain for quite some time now. It's not that I can't do it - I'm a talented and meticulous writer, and I love the art of words with a passion that's borderline unhealthy. I just haven't been able to put my finger on exactly what I want to write about.

I think I've figured it out. Coffee shops. Barista chronicles. I wouldn't want to focus on the business aspect at all - in fact, I think the focus on the dollar bills as opposed to the love of the product that typically starts any major chain is the reason that coffee is turning into a status-symbol commodity rather than, well, just coffee. I wouldn't even use the name of the coffee shops that I've been employed at, or the ones that I frequent. I think it'd be fascinating to just talk about the role a barista plays in a coffee shop - not so much the whole "taking pride in a great double shot of espresso," but more the customer relation aspect.

To put it bluntly: wouldn't a book about the nut jobs that frequent coffee shops be a good read? Bartenders can blame these people's actions on alcohol, waiters and waitresses can blame it on hunger - baristas can only blame it on the obscurity of human nature. Caffeine addiction doesn't even cover it with these people - you can lay more blame on the cycle of the moon than on that.

I would talk about some of the sweeter moments, and some of the absolutely incredible people that I've met along the way...but still, I can't help but feel like people would be more interested in the crazy aspect than anything. There's nothing like a book that makes you legitimately laugh out loud and thank your lucky stars that you have your sanity and an occupation that keeps you as far away from these people as possible.

Turning-Point Anxiety

I can't remember if I've updated about this recently or not, but I'm officially moved in with Tim. We've been living together for quite some time now - I think since February. It's been a major adjustment for a lot of reasons (and, surprisingly, living with Tim has not been the most complicated part).

Coming home to an empty house at night legitimately scared me for quite some time. On an average night, I get home from work around 10:30-11:00 pm, whereas Tim doesn't get home until 1:30-2:00 am. The silence would make my ears ring. I'd quickly turn on the TV to whatever garbage is on at that time, just to have some background clatter to make it feel like the noisy environment that I had recently moved out of. If there were dishes, I'd wash them. If there was laundry, I'd fold it. If there was homework, I would find some other meticulous cleaning that needed to be done and eventually get to writing that paper. In any case, I kept myself busy, not just because it was my home now and I wanted it to look presentable, but also because I didn't want to sit down and think about how often I was home alone, and how I've never had to deal with being alone for more than an hour or two at a time. I couldn't tell you why it frightened me - it just did.

To add to the whole "it was my home now" bit, I had to adjust to that, too. It sure didn't feel like my home until quite recently - it was still "Tim's place." No family pictures around, none of my candles or keepsakes had been unpacked because there were no shelves to place them on, none of my books were out. That ratty, fluffy white blanket that I was so used to curling up in wasn't on the couch anymore. That squeaky floor board right in front of the fridge that I would intentionally step on repeatedly to annoy my brother was replaced with a squeak-free one. And there was that damned silence again - the baby wasn't babbling and throwing his plastic cups around, and mom & dad weren't screaming at the referees during the Wings game.

The fact that I was feeling all these incredibly bizarre and overly emotional sentiments worried me. This was supposed to be one of the most exciting moments of my life, and instead, I feel disheveled and completely out of my comfort zone.

But, not surprisingly, I adjusted over time. Each cupboard became progressively more organized, pictures of my family started going up, a magnetic notepad with Snoopy and Charlie Brown has been placed on the side of the fridge - all little things that say "Pam resides here." Not only that, but the new time with Tim has been FANTASTIC. Sure, there have been things that irk me, just like there would be with any roommate (why, oh WHY, should the can opener go in the sink after being used? AND WHY IN THE HELL ARE ALL OF THE GIRL SCOUT COOKIES GONE?!!) But, between cooking meals together, playing a few rounds of cards, or just chatting at the end of the day, I really couldn't be happier with where we are at.

Overall, I'm getting used to being a big girl - and I'm pretty darn content.

Now what?

I've always struggled with the concept of free time, because ever since I was a kid, I've always been involved in multiple organizations at the same time - dance classes, soccer, and so on. That never changed as I got older - it only got "worse." Multiple jobs, long hours, classes, extra school-related things on top of classes, student organizations, church involvement...you name it, I've participated in it.

Now, here I am. It's the beginning of what's sure to be a beautiful summer. No classes, work is only claiming 20-30 hours of my week...And here's the real kicker - I'm living on my own. Every detail of my time and energy is controlled by me, myself, and I. Now, I don't have any money to speak of, so I can't exactly go out and splurge on home decorating stuff, knitting/sewing materials, music, etc. But I still have all the free time in the world.

...I don't know what to do with myself.

Graduation

Yeah, yeah, I know. I suck at posting. I'm really, legitimately hoping that changes this summer.

So four years have come and gone, and I'm officially an OU alumni as of May 1st, 2010. Granted, I'm just going right back, so this is more of a massive speed-bump than anything, but I still can't fully wrap my head around the fact that I'm finished. I didn't get the grades that I wanted, and maybe I didn't do everything that I wanted to in the past four years - but I got through it, and I couldn't be more proud of myself.

For those of you who couldn't be at the graduation mass at SJF this past Sunday (*cough*Manda*cough*), I figured I would post my reflection here in case you were interested in reading it.

"Let me just say for starters, and I’m sure every graduate here can agree with me - I never thought I’d get to the point where I’d actually be wearing this cap & gown.

For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Pam Hester and I’m officially an OU alumni with a degree in Political Science & English (which basically means I’m OK with the idea of peanut butter & jelly at least twice a day for the next five-ish years). Because I’m passionate about American politics, I’ll often find myself getting into in-depth discussions about current events with people, particularly when it comes to the area of social justice, and almost every person that I’ve ever talked to in this sense will always ask “Why in the world are you a political science major?” It’s as if I’ve willingly accepted some sort of disease that will inevitably make me cantankerous, irrationally partisan, and greedy beyond all reason.

The truth is, getting this degree hasn’t just helped me become a more informed citizen, or a well-rounded student that’s ready to take on the master’s level courses in the fall. There’s a strong Christian calling for me within the social sciences. In the Gospel today, we hear Jesus give us that beautiful new commandment - the one that is as essential to being a Christian as believing in the death and resurrection of our Lord and Savior: “As I have loved you, so you also should love one another. This is how all will know that you are my disciples.” It’s agape - that unconditional and sacred love that should know no boundaries, have no expectations, and come as naturally as a smile.

There are so many examples of modern day Christian love emanating through what seems like nothing but depressing times, but sometimes it’s the smallest things that strike your heart so strongly that you feel as if Jesus himself is standing right next to you. A few years ago, I was working at a local bookstore at Christmastime (which seems like the strangest setting for an example of agape, considering any retail environment during the holiday season is just plain terrifying, but stick with me). We were in the middle of a massive rush, and I had a woman come up to the register with two impatient children, a huge pile of expensive items, and an expired coupon. Needless to say, she wasn’t pleasant. We completed her transaction, and she moved over a few feet to wrestle her kids into their jackets before they went out in the cold. Right after her, I had a boy come up to the register, and he was mentally impaired. He had a Magic Tree House book that he wanted to buy, and he handed me a five dollar bill. The problem is, those books typically run about $15. I tried to explain to him that he didn’t have enough money, but I couldn’t get him to understand, and I was at a complete loss as to what to do (furthermore, I couldn’t reach into my own pocket - that’s just asking for a write-up). The woman that I had just helped earlier was still working with her kids when she looked up and saw what was going on. Despite the fact that she was frantic, she came over and said quietly “Let me pay for the book.” She kept it subtle - she didn’t expect any thanks from the boy or any acknowledgment from anyone. She just paid for it, smiled, scooped up her antsy children and merchandise, and walked out the door. That’s agape.

Another smaller example of this kind of love took place when I was actually living on campus at OU. During the winter months, I had tendonitis in my foot, so I was on crutches. Now, for those of you who have never been on OU’s campus, let me just sum up what it’s like to get to and from class - there’s no straight path to any, ANY of the buildings, and there’s always patches of ice lurking the in the shadows that catch you off guard every time. Furthermore, there’s no escape from the wind in the heart of campus - you’re caught in some sort of awful Winter Wonderland . So, to get to and from classes on crutches with a backpack full of books was insanely difficult, not to mention painful, and for whatever reason I wasn’t allowed to have a temporary handicapped parking pass. On one particularly windy and cold day, I was trying to get to one of the buildings, and I actually had to stop because every muscle in my body was aching. A person saw me, and he came up and offered to carry my books, and when he saw how much pain I was in he even offered to carry me. I told him that wouldn’t be necessary, but I definitely took him up on the offer to carry my stuff. What struck me the most about all of this was that after he helped me get to class and he took off to go to his, he didn’t ask me for my number of anything like that - he just did what he did to be genuinely kind. It’s been four years, and I still remember his kindness.

So, to link this all back to my calling to be active in the social science realm - I feel that the Christian love that Jesus expects of us includes this sort of beauty, but he also expects us to go beyond the temporary fixes that we are all more than willing to give. Feeding the hungry, sheltering the homeless - it’s definitely a way to express our love, and it’s something that this community has embraced. But Jesus calls us to something deeper and much more challenging than the application of a band-aid. Feed the hungry - absolutely. But begin to ask the question as to why there’s hunger in the first place. Question why those with food are a minority, and while there are so many people who go hungry every night, the statistics of obesity are becoming even more and more staggering. Shelter the homeless - without a doubt. But with so many families on the brink of losing everything they have, the solution needs to go beyond providing a bed for an evening and it should focus on how to prevent this type of collapse in the future.

This is what I’m called to. For me, political science isn’t just the realm of crooked individuals with contradictory voting records and even worse catch phrases. It’s the area of study where I know that I can be an advocate for social justice. I know that in understanding the intricacies of the American political process, and learning more about the non-profit sector in my studies in the fall, I can begin to truly work towards that mission of love that Jesus has put forth for us. And it’s not just the political science realm that’s like that - that’s just my calling. Every graduate here has identified his or her strengths and weaknesses and found something that they’re passionate about. That passion in combination with the new commandment can be harnessed into something powerful and beautiful if we let it. It’s a way to use our gifts and talents that were bestowed on us from the moment of conception to bring this planet one step closer to the Kingdom of God.

I’m sure every graduate here can say that they have no idea what the future holds for them, especially in these uncertain times, and that’s terrifying and often pretty discouraging. But I’m confident in the fact that if we take what we’ve learned over the past four or more years and combine it with that unconditional love for our neighbor as Jesus expects of us, we’ll be living a life that far exceeds anything we imagined. It’ll be the life that God had envisioned for us before we even knew how to dream."

Thank you all for your love and support the past four years. I couldn't have done it without you.

Halloween 09

Hellllooooo out there. I'm back.

We received our infamous Party City catalog today, with all their splendid costume options for this season. As always, I immediately flipped it open and started looking through to see if they had any new and/or cute costumes to choose from (otherwise I'd have to resort to my age-old pirate costume...and Lord knows there are just too many pirates).

Now, every year, I'm always a little stunned at the amount of skin that some people are willing to show on Halloween, but the shock factor doesn't last too long, and I usually brush past the lingerie section of the ads to check out the Burger King or the Bacon&Eggs costume prices. But this year, I had to flip glossy page after glossy page to get to the incredibly small section at the back of the catalog that had a shred of humor and (dare I say it) decency.

Ladies and gentleman, the fashion industry has done it again. You have the traditional options such as "the Statue of Liberty" (Now complete with short skirt and garter belt!), and "story book sweetheart" (I'm pretty sure that making a young girl character into a sex icon is looked down upon in most cultures, although clearly it's alright in the American tradition).

But fear not! You have some new choices!

How about "the Eskimo cutie? A brown, low-cut dance leotard that flares out into a short skirt, complete with cotton fluff along the trim of the skirt, and a hood with two puffballs attached to the pull strings that will never be used. Throw on your favorite pair of white uggs that your daddy bought you to make the costume complete. (Newsflash: Eskimos don't wear those kinds of clothes outdoors. Only desperate girls in Michigan do.)

Or you can be "the Tribal Princess"! With feathers from some unknown bird that certainly never wandered the plains of this great land, lots of cleavage, and some fringe that (if you're lucky) will cover your cheeks, you'll look identical to Chief Slap-A-Hoe's wife.

Here's my point: There's no use in dressing like this on Halloween. If you want to get adventurous and show off your fun, kinky side, do it in the bedroom. Resorting to these kinds of costumes out in public only proves that you lack self-respect, self-worth, and creativity. Besides, you should leave some of those features that you prize most about yourself hidden (or only hinted at), thus leaving it up to the imagination of those who are interested in you - that makes you more desirable than throwing it all out there for anyone and everyone.

Oh well. Maybe I'll resort to the Greek Goddess costume. Or maybe I'll just dress normally and wear a sign that says "Nudist On Strike." Anything's better than the Eskimo cutie.

Hey there, Hollywood.

Alright, Hollywood, let's have a chat. You know about "Juno," right? Fantastic work there, my friends. Teenage pregnancy and all of it's cuteness. And how about that "Secret Life of an American Teenager" television series? You know, you really nailed it on the head with that one - that's EXACTLY what it's all about.

Now, the birth of a child is always something amazing. And that baby, in all of it's compactness and cuteness, is able to control your life in the blink of an eye, simply because that's all the time it takes for that love to consume every centimeter of your heart.

But there's more to it than that. Let me take a shot in the dark here and say that it's actually not all sunshine, roses, and puppy dogs with ferociously wagging tails.

Say! There's an idea for a movie! Ok, follow me on this one - how about we do a bit on teenage pregnancy from the perspective of the entire family? We'll still follow the mother and the child, of course, but wouldn't it be interesting to see whether or not the family is affected at all by the situation? I mean, who knows, maybe it's the most emotionally turbulent time for the various members?

Follow the mother and father of the teen. After fully raising children of their own and getting ready to spend the money they've saved for kid-free relaxation and retirement, they now have to assist in raising another child in all aspects. They feel responsible on all levels for both the teen and the new baby, and to take a step back and let things happen the way they would if she was in a typical single-mother situation is next to impossible.

Follow the siblings. Some may have the opportunity to move out, feeling as if they've abandoned the family in some senses while in other senses feeling relieved that there is a chance for them to continue life in the direction they initially chose. Others may not have that option, and must live feeling perpetually torn between helping the family as much as possible and trying to find their own path in life, with the end result being an overwhelming feeling of guilt and hopelessness no matter what choice is made.

And no matter what the circumstance, nobody allows themselves to truly feel any of these emotions or speak about them, because their love for the child is so strong that they would give anything to make sure that the baby receives whatever he or she needs. So they bury all of these justified attitudes deep, and let them fester and boil.

So what do you think, directors and producers? Do you think that this subject matter is surface-y enough to make a blockbuster hit for next year? Do you think some indie musicians would write some touching music to go along with it, warming the heart of every American viewer?

Yeah, I thought not. Maybe we should just let the truth take the back-burner to our fantasy versions of life. Besides, who wants to go to the movies to actually watch reality, right?

The finale

I'm doing something this summer that I've NEVER done before. A whole new experience for Pam - and a three to four month long one at that.

Ready? Drum roll please.

*ratta tatta ratta tatta ratta tatta tat*

This summer. I, Pamda Bear, will be working between 15-20 hours per week, taking no classes, and spending the remainder of my free time...relaxing.

WOAH! You weren't expecting that, were ya?

The main plan: North Carolina with my best friend/boyfriend, Tim. We're going to be staying with my cousin, his fiancee, and her little boy at their place in the mountains. Afterwards, we're going to be staying with my aunt and uncle for a night...and then we're off to a beach house. That's right - a little house right on the water. Late night and early morning walks on the beach, lounging around in the sand with a Steinbeck novel, and falling asleep to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. It's going to be the perfect blend of family time and Tim and Pam (also known as "Pim") time.

Here's a list of goals for the rest of the summer:

• Hit up as many parks as possible.
• Read any book that I want, as many as I want.
• Watch every Jack Lemmon movie.
• Play guitar.
  
• Rinse, lather, and repeat.

I'm beyond excited. :)

New blog worth following

For all of those who are raising children, or who have an interest in children in general, you should check out my friend Naomi's blog - http://toraiseanation.blogspot.com

Naomi has been an amazing nanny for many years, and I've learned so much from her. She's working on writing a book, and from the discussions we've had about what kind of stuff she wants to include in it, it's going to be a must-read for anyone who wants to effectively raise children in this day and age. She's using this blog to get some feedback...and ya'll should check it out.

Call me crazy - and horribly overwhelmed.

Step 1: Take on too many jobs for money
Step 2: Take on too many jobs for no money
Step 3: Take classes that demand more time than any other class at Oakland U
Step 4: Make sure all of these factors clash at the same time
Step 5: Curl into the fetal position, suck on thumb, and cry.

Yeah - livin' the dream, people. I'm livin' the dream.

It's funny, because people always tell me that these are the best years of life. I guess I haven't quite seen the light yet, not because my life is miserable, but because I'm running around too much during the semester, and therefore I can't stop and take everything in.

I've been working on a paper for my communism class - and an intense one at that. I have to identify the economic, political, and social problems of education from a socialist's perspective, propose a set of solutions, and anticipate the arguments against said solutions. It's insanely difficult - within the past day and a half, I've perused five essays, eight books, and notes from Marx's work that I've read throughout the course of the semester. But the positive side of all of this is, despite the fact that I'm working so hard that I lose track of time, I think I may have found my calling.

I want to work on education reform. I'm not sure how. I'm not sure why. But the fact of the matter is the K-12 education system in America is so horribly flawed that there needs to be no bullshit, intelligent people that stand up and say that changes need to be made. All of these readings have really inspired me, not just because of the fact that there are so many problems within the system, but because the solutions are right in front of us, and they're actually possible. It's exciting to think that my future children really could have something better than what I had.

On a funny note, while I was working on this paper two days ago, I went and I stretched my back after being hunched over my computer for an extensive period of time...and something popped. I couldn't move. That's right - I threw out my back working on a paper. I'm just that intense.

What's that golden ball in the sky?

Yes, that's right - it's the sun. And guess what, Michiganders - it's actually going to get above 40 degrees tomorrow. I'm so glad - I was beginning to think that Jesus hated us and wanted us to die, lips blue and nostrils dripping icicles like Jack from "The Shining."

I decided about a week ago that I'm going to start babysitting little Aiden three days a week, 6 am - 1:30ish pm. I'm kind of stoked about the hours, because that means that I get to sleep in an extra two hours and still get morning shifts of some sort. Plus, it's a guaranteed 21 hours a week, and then an additional 10-15 a week at Caribou, so I'll actually be making relatively decent money. I'm apprehensive, though, and for obvious reasons: I don't want this to turn into a situation in which, like most other bosses I've ever been employed under, my services are taken advantage of and my back becomes the perfect place to walk upon. That'd be especially bad in this situation, considering it's my family that I'm working for...yikes with stripes. But, trying to look on the bright side again, at least I get to play with lil' peanut on a regular basis now, and it's starting to get warmer so I might even be able to take him on the occasional adventure.

Tim and I are going to be heading down south this summer! (And no, we're not cousins who are trying to find a loophole and get hitched. Assholes.) The dates are set - May 4th through the 9th. We're going to start off by (hopefully) driving through the mountainous regions of NC and seeing my cousin, his girlfriend, and her little boy. The next day, we'll be driving an additional four hours to see the remainder of my family that lives in that state, including my godmother and my uncle who moved about two years ago. Then, for the remainder of the trip (drum roll please), we're going to be staying in a private beach house, just off the water...I'm so freaking excited. A vacation very much needed for the two of us - I think I'm going to start a count down.

On that note, I need to start my massive amount of homework. Oh, and if there are really bizarre typos throughout this blog, it's because my computer has decided that it doesn't particularly like to type, so I have to jam my fingers on the keys in order for the letters to pop up correctly...my poor laptop, all it wants to do is curl up and die "Million Dollar Baby" style - but I don't believe in euthanasia, especially when I have two months left in my semester and I need this laptop. It's unfortunate.

Grey, February days and a steering wheel.

Today, for the first time in quite a while, I decided to get in my car and just drive.

Needless to say, it's been a rough-ish month with the various adjustments to the new baby in the house, classes being tougher than ever, and friends dropping off the map like flies because of the ever-important job hunt. So this afternoon, I was having a difficult time getting the nasties out of my head. I played guitar for a while, but nothing was sounding right. I tried reading, writing, even using some pastels and drawing - nothing seemed to take the edge off.

So, I got in my car.

I made it all the way down to OU's campus with the intention of walking around and posting flyers around the various buildings, only to realize as soon as I parked that I had left my coat at home, and in the twenty minutes it took for me to get to the OC the temperature had dropped at least ten degrees.

So, back in the car.

I stopped and got a hot chocolate at the new Bean and Leaf cafe in Rochester. (Not to be "that guy" that advertises in their blog, but ya'll should go to this place. Their tea is unbe-freaking-lievable, especially the cinnamon one. Nom nom nom.) Afterwards, I just put my ipod on shuffle and continued to drive north, letting my mind go blank.

On days where your goal is to be productive, to get as much done as possible, and to put all of the negative thoughts out of your mind until you have time to deal with them later - sometimes those are the best days to let the steering wheel and your cheap speakers in your beat up Ford Escort ZX2 take control of your life. It was soothing to just drive around various areas of Macomb and just look at the trees, thinking that soon the sun would be shining for more than ten minute spurts and we would see the blossoms fill the branches...I don't think any form of productivity could have put me in that mindset today.

So, when all I wanted was to go out and actually spend spring break doing something worthwhile and memorable, apparently all my brain needed was a long car ride with no one but the stereo speaking. Who would've thought.