Owner of a lonely heart...

My life is very lonely.

I did not mean for it to be this way, and I do not like it (throwing that in there for anyone who thought I was a lone wolf-type).

For eight hours a day, five days a week, I work where people don't really know anything about me other than I am the Librarian. It is a cramped and busy environment, and people are more interested in if I can refill the paper in the printer or get their laminating completed in a timely manner than what makes me who I am. Working in a school also means that everyone will usually address each other by last name. This being the case, the magical first name that has helped define me for so many years doesn't really exist, and even with a very short and easy last name, people still can't manage to get that right. Some might chalk this up to being busy and having a lot going on, but I lump it in with just not caring. Whatever the case, my job represents the bulk of my interactions with people in any given week.

When the impersonal work day ends, it's a short commute home to my frugally cozy basement apartment. No significant other or roommates living here; just me. The apartment is in the home of a lovely couple and their elderly Golden Retriever, so the closest thing I get to human contact while I am at home is listening to them walking, talking, laughing, and barking upstairs. Friends and family are more than welcome to come over and visit (I have so many premium cable channels and a hot tub that isn't working right now!), but they don't very often. Much like the work situation, it is possible to chalk this up to being busy and having a lot going on. Much like the work situation, I lump it in with just not caring.

Weekends are daunting when there aren't any plans to look forward to. I try to find activities that I would like to do; activities that would allow me to meet people. There has to be stuff out there, right? I live in a fairly large city. Surely there are things that don't require forking out too much money, being religious, or playing sports?

Dating... ugh. Online sites don't seem to offer much. Friends don't have other single friends. People I meet on my own aren't interested/ready/available. My last relationship was one where, while there were issues to work on (that's how it goes, right?), I felt very loved and included in something larger than myself. I like to think that there is a man in a neighboring ZIP code looking for a situation like that with a woman like me, but I am not completely sold right now. Moving on...

Six months have passed since I made the decision to leave where I was and come back "home". Now that half a year has gone by, I am not sure why I came back here. Family? Friends? Opportunity? Whatever the case, I am anxiously waiting for a realization to appear. People often peg me as being pessimistic to a degree, but I don't think they understand how much optimism I have going into things. Unfortunately, it doesn't take too much or too long to deplete the reserves.

I have been told that people can't just assume you are feeling a certain way, and that I have to be sure to clearly communicate what is going on in my heart and mind. So, here you go.

I do not like sitting around by myself as much as I do. Things are difficult right now, and I need you.

Take this job and shove it...

Or don't.

I'm not sure.

It's that time of year where, in my line of work, the jobs start to pop up. People have decided they are going to retire, move away, or just move on, and the possibilities start to make themselves known. In turn, I start to focus on the realities of my current job situation, and the potential that lies elsewhere.

I want to be the kind of person who can say, "You know what? My job isn't perfect, but I am going to make the best of it!". I really do. Maybe I could stay there a few years and just deal with it. Maybe? Maybe not. The reality is that I'm the kind of person who says, "Why put up with a situation where I have limited support and an aesthetically unappealing (not to mention unsanitary) work space, especially when I go elsewhere and get a better deal (possibly even more money)?" I know it is just work, as some people are quick to point out, but it is what I do the majority of the week. It's a big deal.

There is still some time to figure out what steps I will take next, but right now, I'm already feeling that itch to throw my name in the hat for some opportunities. When I took my current job, I vowed to myself that I would stay there for a while, but I am not completely sure that is a vow I will be able to keep when it's all said and done. I feel like I'm not really reaching my potential where I am with what I am doing, and I don't think it's a environment that is going to allow me to get anywhere close to what I feel like I could or should be doing.

Contrary to how it might appear to others, I WANT to find a place and settle down. I WANT to stay somewhere. Not only do I want these things, but I NEED them, too. I'm just not ready to slug my way through life five days a week for the next thirty years of my life. Perhaps that sounds a bit ridiculous, but I am okay with that right now.

Time won't give me time...

I haven't touched this blog in half a year.

A lot has changed since then, or it's possible that nothing has changed at all. Your guess is as good as mine.

I decided it was best in the long-run for me to leave Austin and come back to Atlanta; the city I wanted to leave for most of my life. Austin was such a fun place to live. It just wasn't... home? I really wanted it to be, though. For what it's worth, I can't say that Atlanta really feels like home a lot of the time, but it is where I am, and most likely, where I will continue to be for a long time to come (although, let's face it; I am not very stable sometimes when it comes to this stuff). There are times when I daydream about buying a house, putting down some roots... that would be nice, but for now, it seems a bit unattainable.

The plus sides of being back here? It's great to be able to see my family more, especially my brother's children. No more booking a flight to come back for birthday parties, and no stressing myself out with trying to see my friends while coming out over a weekend. I was also very happy to be able to experience Autumn again, since that didn't really happen in Austin. The health issues I experienced while living in Austin have cleared up quite a bit, but who knows if that is a product of this new (rather, recycled) environment.

The downsides... I wish this list were much shorter than the one above, but so far, it isn't. At least it isn't substantially longer, though. My job is stressful and annoying. I miss my coworkers, the building, and the much more laid-back attitude that came with my former job. My larger salary doesn't do any good when everything here is more expensive, either, so I have started trying to bring in extra money here and there. The financial hit I took over the past 2 years hasn't done wonders for my self-esteem or general mood sometimes, so I'm doing my best to build it all back up, slowly but, hopefully, surely. I've had to re-learn how to be much more self-sufficient, since I'm no longer a partner in a team, but maybe having to remember how to fend for yourself isn't such a bad thing (though I wouldn't mind someone doing all the grocery shopping and cooking).

Overall, I feel like I am doing better in general. A little anxiety here and there (see: here), but I'm pretty happy for the most of it. I have a lot of love in my heart, and I am hopeful about what's to come. Important lessons have been learned, and now I can take steps to be a stronger person because of it.

All I know is that I've made it this far, so I suppose I can make it a little further.

YOLO

Today was the last day of school.

I started my career in education in August of 2001, so I have had my fair share of last days of school. Even in the worst years, I usually get a little emotional when it's time to wrap it up for the summer. Experience has taught me that you never know if you will see people again, and that is especially true in a school environment. Life happens, people move. Kids go off to different schools, coworkers' spouses are transferred over the summer... that sort of thing. You know it's coming, but it's still difficult.

Today was a rough last day of school. Aside from the fact that I kept getting teary-eyed with the kids, I recently decided that it would be best for me to move back to Atlanta to be near my family after giving it a year here in Austin. Since I don't like when people just vanish, I figured I needed to announce this to people today. I could have easily slipped away over the summer, but that felt wrong - almost as wrong as my decision to go back to Atlanta feels when I roll it around in my head.

Do I like Atlanta? We have a rocky relationship, and that's a feeling that started a long time ago. There are things I love about the city- and those things are people. I miss my friends and my family. I don't like feeling like I'm a bad aunt/sister/daughter/granddaughter/niece/cousin because I can't show up to dinner on a random weeknight or make it to a birthday party or T-ball game without it being a big (expensive) deal. It hurts sometimes to miss out on the things my friends are doing. If my return to Atlanta, however, is anything like my previous time there, then I can be prepared for my family to find it too difficult to visit me, as I wouldn't live in the southern suburbs with the rest of them, or to feel lonely from a lack of a deep connection with anyone. I make more money in Atlanta, but the schools I've worked in have been rife with unnecessary drama and controversy. It's a city of failed relationships, bad habits, race issues, and humidity. Oy, the humidity! My family and friends there are wonderful, and I love them, but they don't/can't change the fact that I feel a sense of freedom and drive here in Austin that I didn't find back "home".

Things got off to a bumpy start with Austin. I moved here after an especially emotionally exhausting year, and I brought some of that baggage along with me (despite my best attempts not to). I started working at a brand new school with people who were coming together from several different places. I spent several days in the hospital, and that coupled with the cost of flights back home put me in a less-than-ideal financial scenario for a bit. I was hoping that people would come visit me in my new city, and although that hasn't happened yet, I am still hoping for that.

So, eleven months later, this is what I know.

I love my job. I have ideas I want to implement, the workspace is just aesthetically amazing, and I have a great group of colleagues that have become my best friends here. Did I mention I work with cute little kids who say/do some really funny and adorable things on a daily basis? There is also a really great support system of librarians in my district, and I know that doesn't happen everywhere.

Aside from work, I have a great boyfriend who does an excellent job at being a true partner. A lot of the time I put up walls and make myself distant, and that is something I need to work on no matter where I live. Somewhere along the line I picked up this whole self-destructive thing, and it's really not a good look for me. Hopefully recognizing and admitting this is at least a baby step in the right direction, along with remembering and appreciating the work he has put into making us, well, us. I've dated my fair share of guys over the years, and he is a rare find when it comes to being emotionally available, caring, and patient. Did I mention he loves to cook? This goes really well with my love of eating! We have some different ideas on things, but there is room for compromise and growth.

Austin has little things that I enjoy, and I'm not sure if a suitable Atlanta replacement exists for them. I love Pinballz, the giant arcade near my apartment. I could kill hours in Half Price Books. There is a river/lake downtown, and although the trees are not as tall and majestic as the ones back east, the rolling hills here make for lovely scenery (not to mention all the open sky). I'm involved in a community-run radio station, where, if I put in enough time, I can eventually wind up with my own show. The cinema scene here is in a completely different league than Atlanta, and you're never more than a stone's throw away from some tasty tacos.

Today as my boss announced to my coworkers that I was not coming back next year, I cried. I cried when my coworkers gave me hugs and said they would miss me next year. I cried in the library by myself after everyone had gone. I sent out an email to the librarians' listserv saying I was leaving, and I cried while doing that. I went to an engagement party for a coworker, enjoying a vast, blue sky as I sipped margaritas by the pool and laughed with friends and strangers. It felt like home, and it was the first time in a few days where I didn't want to burst into tears.

I'm not proud of myself for making a fairly major decision that I want to reverse so quickly, especially after having to declare it so many people today. I have changed my mind before, and I imagine it reflects poorly on me to a degree. That being said, I will not be proud of myself for going back to Atlanta out of a sense of guilt or obligation, and I really won't be proud if I get there and get right back into my old habits and mindset.  I suppose I am The Girl Who Cried Atlanta. In the wise words of The Human League, "I'm only human, born to make mistakes", and today has shown me that abandoning this leg of my journey so quickly might just be a mistake.

I love you deep down, Atlanta, but I have to do what feels best in my heart and mind - not what makes me want to cry and/or vomit all day.

Why I Don't Like Easter

Tomorrow is Easter. Children are excited about egg hunts and candy. Adults are rejoicing the resurrection of their savior (if they believe in that sort of thing). What a lovely time, right?

Wrong. I do not like Easter. Here are some reasons why.

Like other holidays, Easter has just become an onslaught of retail overkill. BUY THINGS! And better yet, buy them earlier and earlier each year. If you want to keep it secular, that's cool. Make Easter another Valentine's Day, where the focus is candy and cards and other tchotchkes. But, if you want it to serve as a day of remembering that a man gave up his life for the sins of the world, maybe tone it down on the junk factor. As I am writing this, a Party City commercial with a re-worked version of Lou Bega's "Mambo No. 5" is on TV, really driving this whole point home. UGH.

Easter also loses a lot of points because it is a holiday based on celebrating a death. This is bizarre to me. Why would you want to do that? And do it so joyously? And then go eat a ham (which is something that your risen savior would not have eaten, by the way)? I understand that the main focus is the resurrection, but you can't have that without the less-than-pleasant events that lead up to it. Throw in Lent, and you have an entire month of buzz-kill.

In 2001, my Papaw spent his last hours of life in the ICU on Easter Sunday. The doctor told us there was nothing more they could do, and he died early the following morning. In 2003, my Grandaddy Bob (who was not a grandfather, but my grandmother's uncle who raised my mother) suffered a major heart attack at a family Easter lunch and died. 

Losing Papaw and Grandaddy is why I really don't like Easter. The rest is just filler. 

Not what you thought...

I am 100% European.

This is what I learned from an at-home DNA ancestry test I took recently. Looking at my physical attributes, this isn't shocking at all. I have blue eyes, pretty fair skin, and light brown hair. The part that leaves me scratching my head just a bit is that for as long as I can remember, my maternal relatives have asserted that my great-grandmother was "full-blood" Creek Indian, and my great-great-great grandfather was Cherokee. Bear in mind that when I was a child, our family consisted of FIVE generations, so it wasn't like these people were long-gone and forgotten.

Of course, I am not sure how much stock to put in an at-home DNA ancestry test that I ordered online. The main reason I ordered it was to determine my other half's "mystery meat" status, as I like to call it (he's adopted). For the record, he's 86% European and 14% East Asian, which confirms my suspicions that his ancestors were Bedouin or something (if you could see his beard, you would know what I mean). There's a good chance that the test is complete bunk, or that I swabbed my cheek the wrong way. There's also a good chance that my relatives are just misinformed, and that's what bothers me most.

If I am in fact as European as the test said I am, I do not feel like I have lost any piece of my identity. My grandmother and step-grandfather live on a Reservation, so I've always been connected to Native America in that regard. As someone who converted to Judaism, I know that your bloodline does not always determine everything about who you really are. I'm wondering if I should tell my relatives that they may not actually be part-Cherokee or Creek or whatever else. Maybe I should just let them think what they think, because it's not hurting anybody (and as previously mentioned, the test could be wrong).

Part of me really wants to get to the bottom of this, though. Unfortunately, my ancestors did not seem to be as meticulous as I am when it comes to record-keeping and data, so I can't lean on that for any guidance. Maybe I will just take a test from a different company and see what it says. If anything, I just think it would be interesting to know, and I imagine some of my relatives would find it mildly intriguing.

What region of Europe is known for big butts, because clearly that's where my people were from.

Tears (and passing out) for fears...

I am not afraid of much.

Bugs, while sometimes annoying, do not give me the heebie jeebies. I can handle heights, as long as I don't have to walk a tightrope or something ridiculous. Since I've never had a cavity, going to the dentist does not send me into a tailspin - I get a free toothbrush! How can you beat that? Now that I am slightly older and wiser, I have moved past the abstract fear of "being alone", whatever that means. I stopped being afraid of the dark before I got into Kindergarten.

If you want to to incite full-blown fear in me, take me to get blood-work or shots.

Yes, everybody knows someone who is at least a little squeamish about needles. I have friends who ENJOY donating blood, something I cannot even begin to understand. Sure, I can grasp the need/benefit, but let's just say I won't be assisting the Red Cross anytime soon, considering that just seeing a blood drive in progress somewhere is enough to throw my nervous system into overdrive.

Since this is something I've been battling for about fifteen years, I have developed some strategies that (sometimes) work for me. First, I try to sit very still and make sure I am inhaling and exhaling properly. I picture a "happy place" and focus in on that. Niiiiiiice and calm. Once it is time for the work to be done, I lie down (I learned the hard way that sitting upright does not work for me), put cold,wet paper towels behind my neck and over my forehead and eyes, and if possible, chew gum. I make small talk with the lab tech, and absolutely DO NOT want to hear what is happening with the process. Best-case scenario, they get what they need, and I leave feeling only slightly nervous (but don't get me started on having to remove the bandage or see the bruise afterward).

Today was not a best-case scenario. I showed up at the lab, feeling very anxious. The folks in the waiting area probably thought I was doing some sort of Lamaze homework, as I was sitting with very pronounced posture, taking awkward, controlled breaths. My hands were sweaty, and I did not like the feel of my feet touching the ground. Once I was called back into the room, I tried to employ my normal methods, but they weren't working. I start nervously laughing, which then turns into crying. I start to convulse, and feel like I am going to vomit. Next thing I know, there is an additional tech in the room, and they keep asking, "are you with us?". I was told to slowly drink some water, and heard that my color was still gone. They made sure I was able to sit up and stay standing for several minutes without passing out before I was able to leave.

This is all well and good, except for the fact that they didn't even get any blood. That's right. I freaked out and passed out before a needle even came into the equation. Sometime around the rubber tube being tied around my arm and being told to make a fist, I just lost it. Now I have to go back again, and you can be sure that I am going to ask my doctor for some sort of sedative to get me through this (since they are going to need seven vials, I will need all the help I can get). You would think that if I passed out, they could just go ahead and take all the blood they needed, but I guess things don't work like that (except for in urban legends, where you end up in a bath full of ice and realize your kidneys are gone).

Despite today's failure, I'm doing much better with this than I used to. I can remember being at the doctor sometime in 2000, and the blood draw required someone to hold down each leg, someone to hold down each arm, and someone to actually draw the blood. Apparently flailing and hitting a nurse is frowned upon in the medical world! Somewhere along the way, the number of people involved whittled down, and now I can get it knocked out with just one tech (assuming I don't faint; that always crowds up the room with folks). Baby steps!

I am not sure of the genesis of this fear. I remember not really enjoying shots as a child, but I don't remember having a complete breakdown. The first instance I can really recall is being tested for mono after an outbreak among kids in marching band (I tested negative). The gal missed a vein or something, and this suction/gurgle sound came from my arm. The only other somewhat-related memory I have is seeing blood in the catheter tubes attached to my grandfather when he died. I sat on the floor and just stared at the tubes, realizing that was the last bits of him flowing away.

Although this is one of those quirky things that makes me who I am, I am very serious about trying to overcome it. I do not want to be in a situation where I can't help someone who is bleeding (this doesn't freak me out as much as the thought of having blood drawn), and if I ever want to have children, I imagine I am in for quite a few needles here and there. I have never put much stock into things like hypnosis, but I am ready to go out on a limb if it means a future without freaking out unsuspecting lab technicians and embarrassing myself in the process.

So, who wants to go get a tattoo with me? Just kidding, of course...