Quo Vado?

The application has been submitted. Thanks to all of those of you who gave my work a read through, made comments and helped to clean up the circuitous and convoluted thoughts. Now the wait is on to see if I even get to have an interview. The bonus is that I won’t be on pins and needles as long as the hoping to be 1Ls were this spring. So, it’s in and I’ve done what I can do. I’ll let you know where the cards fall.

You knew I was somewhat lame, right? So, it wouldn’t surprise you that in lieu of dancing that the ‘masquerade’ tonight I re-typed my resume - while sitting in the middle of a darkened room with people dancing around me. As a perfectionist with two left feet and no sense of rhythm I generally don’t dance. I do, however, enjoy working in noisy places. It’s not quite the international cafeteria at Case, but a room full of music that I don’t generally listen to works nearly as well. Several comments were made, however, about the need to take a break from work. I didn’t have the heart to tell anyone that the break would come on Monday when I didn’t have anywhere that I was scheduled to be. It might hurt their feelings. It’s been a long - but productive - weekend, and I’m going to definitely be ready to go home tomorrow.

I’ve been avoiding writing about this topic for weeks. It’s been on my heart for longer. In a rare occurrence, it was a conversation with my mother that highlighted the influence of shame in how I live my life today. That the illumination happened while we were talking about someone who isn’t me is less rare.

When I was in junior high (I think), I double booked a Saturday’s worth of activities. I remember the Saturday, even if I don’t remember when it happened. Dad dutifully shuttled me from one activity to the next. I participated in both of the activities I agreed to be at but I gave just a portion of what I had. On the way home from the second activity Dad, who said very little to me all day, tossed out “your word is the only thing you have have to make an impression with. It would be good if your word to someone was worth something.” Two little sentences and I got the message. Since then, if I say to another person I’m going to do something, I’m going to do it. Period. End of Story. There are times when circumstances beyond my control have invalidated the lesson learned long ago. When those times come up, I call, apologize, and offer recompense as I’m able. These occasions are not what haunts me.

The promises I don’t keep to myself, however, torture my soul. From the seemingly simplistic promises, like eating healthy, exercising three times a week, and taking vitamins, to the more complex ones, like building a relationship with God, taking chances and facing fear head-on, I keep a very small percentage of them. I have very little self-integrity. I don’t have any belief in myself. I don’t trust the stickiness of the decisions I’ve made. I even announced the TfA thing because I knew there would be people in my life to hold me accountable, and I couldn’t do it myself. I feel so small and insignificant because I am unable to keep the promises I make to myself. The shame of my own weakness eats away at my happiness, joy and confidence. The shame makes me withdrawn, dower and perpetually frozen.

What kind of pride and arrogance do I have. To be so certain that I should be able to do all of these things on my own when it’s so obvious that I’m kicking myself over my inability to complete tasks that aren’t based on my natural gifts. I need help. I need to admit out loud, to a person, just how much this shame weighs me down. I need to remember that though I choose the path, I don’t have to walk it alone. My shame isolates me, forcing me to walk a path cut off both figuratively and literally from the people in my life who would so much like to help me - even if it’s just to listen to my burdens.

I found a free wi-fi spot and am taking a bit of time this evening just take a look at the online stuff. Not to much, as I’m supposed to be on a retreat, but just enough to know that I”m going to have to do quite a bit of reading on Monday. It’s weird how many posts you can get behind in just a day. This singles retreat has been a bit different for me. It’s not that I’ve actually met a guy, or even had any great conversation with anyone in particular. I have, however, given myself permission to do simple things to take care of myself and acquire the space I need from the masses to stay sane. I shared lunch with a bunch of people I don’t really know, but for dinner I found a wired corner of the world to enjoy in the peace of my own company. One of the other things that’s throwing me off about this retreat is that it’s two and a half full days long. I kept having to remind myself today that there would be more classes tomorrow and plenty of opportunists to talk to actual human beings. The only thing I know right now is that other than becoming a teacher I don’t know what else I want from my life.

This vague sense of un-direction is a result of moving forward without really questioning if the path represents something I want. Too often the choices I made in my life were about trying to stay safe, and not do anything too stupid. I hope the TfA thing works out, if not I’m likely going to need some prodding to keep after the whole career change.

Solo road tripping after dark isn’t too much fun. The darkness in the night sky as the dashboard clock rolled into seven thirty startled me. After more than an hour of trying to get out of town I was looking forward to having more clean road trip time today. Unfortunately, between the time and the clouds, most of the drive to Columbia took place after dark. I’m not overly fond of night driving. I don’t do enough of it to become completely comfortable with my ability to judge safely the distances between MPC and the others on the road. There was a time, however, when I was still in high school when I was a better nighttime driver than a daytime driver - because I only drove at night.

The one thing revealed my afterdark road trip was just how much cities polute the night sky. As I drove into Columbia the near blackness of sky took on a red tone. It was sad to think about just how much light we bleed on the world.

Well, I’ve finished the draft of my application stuff and have sent it out to my wonderful volunteer editors. Thanks ya’ all, I hope you don’t end up regretting the experience.

The evening was productive.

I procured happy shoes.

My toes were painted happy.

Ok, so I took the morning off and accomplished some great things, but this afternoon really blew the day out of the water. I came in to find I’ve been committed to completing two site visits next week. So, not only am I taking vacation on Friday and Monday, I’ll be in Port Royal, SC on Tuesday and Tallahassee on Thursday. Nearly a whole week out of the office and getting paid for part of it is a very cool thing. Here’s the best part, however. I cleaned out my work inbox today. There’s nothing left in it. Other than my local site visit tomorrow and checking some shear walls I’m being paranoid about there’s nothing on my plate to drive me out of my mind. I’m preparing for the typical winter onslaught, but right at the moment I can go home knowing I’m no longer ridiculously behind. Just how cool is that?

I’m off for a manicure/pedicure, boot shining and some slacks shopping. I’ll hit the day’s writing with read ink when I get home.

‘Morning All! I have a request for those of you out there who read and write way more than I do. Would anyone be willing to review my TfA application essay and letter of intent? It’s been along time since I’ve written anything but engineering memos and it’d probably be a good idea to get a couple of pairs of eyes on these before I send them out. If you’re willing and able to help out, just drop me a comment or email me (see link at left). Thanks in advance!!

I’m writing! Wee, I’ve finally started the essay portion of the TfA application. I’m going to have problems with the word limit, the story I want to tell is complex and I only have five hundred words. Aaahhh….

ETA: This is really sucking because my writing keeps getting off the assigned point of the essay.

Once, many moons ago, Aaron Sorkin used the commercial breaks to ratchet up the tension in amazing ways (see the first three pieces of In The Shadow of Two Gunmen). Today, however, even his writing genius would find it difficult to keep my attention through the seven commercial breaks an hour. I’m trying to watch Commander in Chief and the commercials are getting in the way of my actually enjoying the story much less become a frequent watcher. The big three (or four, how ever many there are) are cannibalizing themselves.

Over the last decade, my immediate family has practiced several somewhat random card giving traditions. For a couple of years we’d give each other gender bent cards, or send the same card a second time, or even send cards weeks after the event. OK, so the last one was just me. One habit survived the time and collective flakiness of all three of us. We send two birthday cards to each other - one funny and one sappy and sentimental. I was out at lunch today grabbing Squid’s cards for his birthday next week and realized why our gender bending card purchasing tendencies began when Mom couldn’t find an appropriately sappy card for him. There is a real dearth of sappy cards for brothers. While it took longer than it should of I did find a sappy card to match the wonderfully gross booger card. Even better, the package has been addressed and placed in tomorrows outgoing mail.

I feel small today. Not in the ‘my pants are too big’ way, but in the ‘please hear me but don’t make me talk too loud’ mode. The world exists on the other side of an invisible foam bubble five feet away from me. I’m insulated, and I cannot tell if it’s by choice or circumstance. I spent most of the weekend at home, stuck to my bed. I ventured out for a bridal shower on Saturday, but that’s about it. I haven’t written in days, I keep avoiding a post I know I need to write, and I have two pieces to write for my TfA application by the end of the week, so maybe I should get in gear. Or, maybe, I should get back to pretending that I know what I’m doing here at work.

Alcera Writing Project for October 2005

A Picture Is Worth 1,000 Words - Option Number Six

Write anything inspired by the above photograph.

Grab Bag - Option Number Seven
With three or more of the following words, write a poem, short story, or otherwise creative work of fiction or nonfiction.

raw bar night serene glow frame

The crush before PSB weakened my knees from the very beginning. The first time I heard of him (let’s call him Bob) I was the double on one of Sunshine and Ker’s get-to-know-you dates. We were sitting in Mick’s (I think) downtown and Ker and Larry (my date for the evening) were debating which of their friends I would be ‘perfect’ for. I know, it was a weird place for it to happen but became indicative of the emotional roller coaster my crush over this guy would bring. Bob and I met a couple of months later when Sunshine and I road-triped a visit to Ker in Chattanooga. Bob was a great date. We had a good time and laughed quite a bit. The four of us enjoyed a picnic dinner as we talked though the easterly glow that accompanies the setting sun. We even managed to prolong the date as we talked without pausing while gazing out onto Chattanooga skyline at night from the back porch of a house in the hills. Our second date ended much the same way, with a long personal conversation, that time however we were peeking in on the skyline through a forest frame.

We only had those two dates and the occasional conversation in passing. It took me awhile to figure out why I liked him so much and why I was so willing to express my raw thoughts to him. From the first, I felt protected and challenged just by his presence. It’s as if I got the impression that he was going to watch out for me while simultaneously he continually encouraged me to step outside of my public comfort zone. The sad thing for me is that Bob is married - not to me. The best thing about the roller-coaster of seeing him, having a great time/conversation, then not hearing anything thing and having to face that I’m not who he was looking for was realizing that the bar I set for the man of my dreams isn’t completely impossible to meet and that when it comes to relationships I won’t always be so outwardly serene about the possibility of being one. Sometimes my placidness about the whole topic bothers even me.