say you love me

The IT guy at work hates me.

It's not like I enjoy sending daily e-mails listing any number of problems that my computer is having at the moment--frozen monitor, inability to print, possession by demonic spirits. Or paging him over the company intercom when he ignores my e-mails.

He should love me. I equal job security.

All in the hair

So I'm back to square one with the whole life plan thing. Well, not exactly square one, but they cancelled my Masters program due to our state's little financial woes and massive budget cuts--massive cuts especially in the realms of education. Brilliant move guys. Brilliant. Way to let an economic recession penetrate as deeply as possible for years and years to come. Maybe we should just shut down the universities. That'd save loads of money. We could build sweat shops to employ everyone not going to school and really start competing in the world economy. We'd sure give China a run for their money. 

Don't mind me, I'm just a little bitter.

So I'm open to suggestions about what to do with my life. I think I'd make a killer lion tamer. Or maybe I could just go into politics. I'd have to move to Chicago, though. I mean, if they'll elect Rob Blagojevich as governor, I'll have no problems getting somewhere in that state. I just need better hair. Let's be honest, he may be a horrible human being, but you've gotta hand it to him for having such amazing hair.

Realization of the day:

Amazing bargains or really hot shoes can pretty much solve whatever problems one is facing. Today, I got both. Life is good. And may Last Chance never close its doors...    

Where I am and what I'm doing (and don't get excited and think it's anything cool--that chapter of my life is basically closed until further notice

It's about time I've updated the blogosphere as to what I'm doing these days. I've avoided it for a long while because, frankly, I didn't really have any answer other than "I'm in limbo, and yes, in the Catholic way."

Basically, when I graduated last August from university, my plans had all sort of gone down the drain. I had worked so hard and shmoozed my fair share (e.g. my entire internship at the US Embassy in Israel) and I had all my plans set only to suddenly feel awful about carrying out them out just days before graduation. It pretty much sucked.

Now, I'm sure you're just thinking it was nerves and that it was normal to have reservations about making such a huge step in my life, graduating university and moving to DC to work for an NGO and all that. You may be right, but nerves never made me feel as though I was making the biggest mistake of my life and that God was about ready to smite me from the heavens. In fact, I love adventure and I love change. I wanted to go to D.C. so badly--I wanted the fruition of that dream so badly-- but I knew that I was not supposed to go.

Unfortunately, my one track mind left me sans a "Plan B" so I went to the last place really on earth that I wanted to go and that was back home. To Mesa, AZ.

I wont go into detail, but I was basically dreading coming back. I dreaded seeing people, moving in with my parents, and most of all, I dreaded getting "sucked in" and changing who I am. I was assured by one friend who had taken a job and moved to Mesa after he graduated that I would "definitely not fit in."

So I came back, worked as a minion at the aerospace manufacturing company that my father used to own (he now is considered a "consultant, but he owns the buildings so nepotism still works) doing really boring stuff while I saved for a month-long European adventure (which I did Oct-Nov of last year) and re-grouped and started making plans to move to NYC, or Portland, or Seattle, or...anywhere really. I just knew I needed out and that I was merely in AZ on a pit stop to something much grander.

Well, I was basically lost and miserable and felt pretty much forsaken. Try as I did, I couldn't make plans that I felt good about. This lasted about 4 months and then I decided that I was going to move to D.C. anyways and that I was going to ignore that "want to vomit" feeling and just get on with my life.

And then it hit me. I came to me quite suddenly and forcefully and I knew what my calling in life was. I'm going to try as hard as I can to not sound cheesy and cliche, but what came to me really was cheesy and cliche. I need to be a teacher. A high school history teacher. A far cry from my dreams of law school, being a diplomat, living around the world, one day becoming Ambassador (I mean who wouldn't want to be called "her excellency?") but for the first time in A REALLY LONG TIME, I felt peace about what I was planning. I even felt so good about the masters program I was going to apply for at ASU that would give me both a masters and teaching certification.

So not only am I choosing a profession I thought was gender-stereotyped, cliche, and certainly not for me, I am staying in Arizona for the next few years. And guess what? I'm so happy. So so so happy. I have great friends and a really full life. And I have what I've missed so much this past year: peace of mind in knowing that what I am planning is what I am supposed to be doing.

I've taken a full-time permanent position as a planner at the aerospace company and have committed to work while I attend school. I have benefits (so I'm finally medically insured and can, as my dad says, and now get cancer), which I guess, is something I dreamed of. And I know where I'm going to be for a while.

I've opened myself up to so many things that I had before shunned like The Plague. Things like playing card games, watching football, buying furniture, and quitting swearing. It's great!

Anyways, I excited for the new plans. I am really excited about teaching and even going to ASU. I am REALLY excited about a masters.

But if I don't get into the program, I'd like to be able to say that my new perspective will allow me to go to a plan B or C, even, but I'll probably just give up completely and become one of those people that stalks movie stars.

Kevin Spacey. Definitely Kevin Spacey.

"Maybe"

I was on a nine-mile run in the desert today pondering a great many things (what one does on a nine-mile run in the desert on the 1st day of a new year when the previous one was INSANE) and I came to a startling realization: my generation cannot commit to anything. And I am, unfortunately, as guilty as can be.

Now, I am not just talking about relationships, though that is most assuredly true. We don't date as much because somehow, in our minds, committing to 2 hours with someone equates with picking out wedding colors and baby names. But it's not just that. We can't commit to much of anything. Just take a look at facebook.

When invited to an event of some kind we are given three options. We can hit "attending" and electronically commit to showing up some party, wedding reception or hugging a filipino on a specified day. Or we can hit "not attending" and refuse the afore mentioned activities. We are then given a third option, necessary for our current predicament of widespread indecisiveness:we can hit "maybe." And honestly, how many times do you hit "maybe?"

So instead of straight answers or accountability, we weasel our way around and casually respond "maybe." There are many reasons for the "maybe" we see so much these days. One is that we are always looking for a better option. Don't even try to deny it, you know you are. In our career choices,  social events, dating pool---whatever---we are always looking over the head of what stands before us to what just might pop around the corner and give us reason to ditch what is currently tempting our time. We don't want to say we'll do something because a greater opportunity just might arise. Jason Bourne might end up at your doorstep slightly battered and

in need of some TLC and someone to give a hair cut. A rich relative you didn't know existed may call you up and invite you to  cruise the French Riviera on their yacht (where, as chance would have it, Daniel Craig spends his time between movie gigs acting as the pool boy). 

But the more common reason, I believe,  is our inability to say "no" to things. Once again, we weasel around a bit. In our desire to never disappoint right off the bat, we rarely say no to a person's face. Whether they ask a favor we don't feel like doing, extend and invitation we don't feel like accepting, or recruit for some cause we don't feel like joining, we give them that half answer void of any sign of true character. We refuse to commit one way or the other and instead we drag out the disappointment. We can rip off a band-aid quickly or slowly and we tend to tug as slowly as possible under the pretense of "not wanting to disappoint." I really think Jack Johnson hit the nail on the head when he said "maybe, it pretty much always means no." 

So why don't we just say what we mean?

I just took a look at a few events I was invited to on facebook and I basically feel very validated. One girl created an event asking for phone numbers from friends because of a damaged phone. Fourty-seven people responded "maybe." Maybe what? Maybe you'll give her your number, you've just got to think it over? Maybe you have one? Maybe nothing. Give the number or don't. But by all means, don't spit in someone's face with a "maybe."

While pondering these things, I was forced to recognize just how guilty I am in this whole mess. I hate saying "no" right out and yes, I do in fact hold out for Jason Bourne and his sassy scissors.

So I think that one of my resolutions this year is to be more decisive and accountable. To say "no" when I mean it, even if I will disappoint, and "yes" with the confidence that I will follow through come rain or shine because my word is my bond.

This is my resolution. At least it might be. I still need some time to think it over. 

 

Scrooge no more

I'm notorious for giving super crappy gifts for birthdays, Christmas etc, that is IF I actually remember to do anything. But I am turning a new leaf. I've even started my Christmas shopping already. I know, so thoughtful, huh? 

I've been trying for a couple months and here is something cool I made my sister, Vanessa, for her birthday in October. It was given late, but don't judge me. 

It's made entirely out of recycles grocery sacs or plastic sacs from stores ironed together to make a thicker plastic material that I could then sew together to create this sac. All is plastic except the handles, which are part recycles plastic and part fabric (I line them so they are more sturdy). I used bags I collected in Costa Rica and Israel this year. The side panels are the poka dotty stuff. I've made a few before, but this is pretty much the coolest thing I've ever made. It's to carry groceries. So you are seriously limiting waste here. Tight, no?

My trip

As requested, I'm posting a few pictures from my most recent wanderings.
This is Kerstin, my German friend who put up with me for five days. She was my trainer on the mission. She remembered that during those first two transfers I pretty much only ate this chocolate candy disguised as the best breakfast cereal ever (it was cold and life was hard, what can I say?). She had a box waiting for me when I got to her apartment. Love her. So much.
This is Lucy, a gorgeous brazilian, and her boyfriend from Portugal. I can't remember his name but he is wonderful. He drove me from Geneva to Annemasse to get my luggage and then to the Geneva train station. Love these people. We had just eaten a HUGE brazilian meal with Joelma, her baby Estaban and Lucy's equally fabulous sister, Lucia, who refused to be photographed
This was in Rome. Apparently they ride the short bus there.
This is a view of Paris from Sacre Coeur. Yes, my hair is hideous and in desparate need of a cut in this photo.
My little french cupcake, Christelle. Her aunt, who was out of town, let us (plus her fiance Stephan) crash at her Paris apartment for a few days. It was really tight.

Me in Salzburg, Austria. It was freezing. And that is my new coat from Mango. It's totally awesome. Too bad I live in AZ at the moment...
Salzburg once again.
A "new" Mel Brooks musical? In like 1968.
Trevi fountain. Geraldine and I were people watching for a long time. We sat staring at these two guys arguing about whether they were gay or not. One guy looked in his mid thirties or later and was very attractive. The other guy looked about 15 and had his head on the other guys shoulder. No way, I said. It's his dad. My brother never put his head on my dad's shoulder like that, she countered. This went on for about 15 minutes until they started kissing. Geraldine-1, Erin-0.
Crappy picture of me in from of the coloseum. Rome. Abdout 10 minutes later some creepy kids tried to take advantage of us. Love Rome.

Switzerland somewhere between Geneva and Zurich. I fell in love with the country all over again. I will live there...again. Gorgeous place.
Gareith (a girl I found and taught who is now getting ready for a mission) and I had just left the church building when we witnessed a totally Jason Bourne-type car chase. The guy was in a sports car and was driving like a maniac weaving in and out of cars at about 100 mph. A solid 15 second later, 6 police cars followed. Several minutes later, the police had come back. The guy had totally lost all of them. Which is why the Jason Bourne car chases are so improbable. There wouldn't even be much of a chase. The foxy JB would lose those european cops in no time at all. No doubt in my mind.
Strasbourg, France. I lived just a couple minutes from here.
My door. It always smelled of pee and booze. It was the favorite hangout of the bums.