No matter where you go, there you are.

I finally came out of my self-induced funk today. At least a little. Ever since the Great Job Mishap of 2010 I’ve been keeping to myself. Laying low to the ground. Reshaping how I think about finding a job, living in Boston, etc. It didn’t help that I’ve been sick for a week now (to the point where it was difficult to lift my head). I let a few too many discouraging thoughts slip in for comfort.

Getting out of my apartment and throwing myself into the city makes me so happy. It’s like exercising: Sometimes it takes a lot of effort, but in the end it’s totally and completely worth it. When you’re sick/tired/sad, it’s difficult to want to make the effort. Which means you stay in and feel worse. Which makes for a vicious, miserable cycle. So today I got out. I didn’t have a particular plan in mind, but I figured I would (as usual) start at the bookstore and figure out where to go from there.

Too bad I stayed at a bookstore for 7 hours. Yes. Seven.

I knew today was going to be amazing when I hopped on the T this afternoon. The driver was exceptionally excited about his job. And really, how can you not be happy about life when the man who drives the train is wishing everyone a good day over the loudspeaker? And asking if anyone has a birthday, and if someone does have a birthday today, could they please come to the front of the train so he can properly wish them happy birthday? Oh, boy. It definitely got everyone smiling.

I had the added pleasure of having an interesting seat-mate on my journey to the Prudential Center. A man sat next to me with an inch-thick envelope on his lap. He pulled out the contents and starting reading through the pages. They were notes from interviews with people who were applying to freaking Harvard Medical School. Geez. That makes my mediocre journalism degree look terrible in comparison. After he read each transcript from the interview he would go to another page that listed each person and then would either put an up or down arrow next to the name. I saw people’s medical FUTURES decided in front of me. It was great.

At Barnes and Noble I grabbed my favorite drink (a grande extra hot chai, remember?) and then started searching for a book/magazine to read. As I’m in the middle of a great book now I didn’t originally intend to get caught up in another. I wanted something I could “half-read” if you will–meaning I needed to read something that didn’t require any extra effort or thinking. And this title caught my eye: Jennifer Johnson is Sick of Being Single.

Sounds perfect! A guaranteed chick-lit read. So I snatched up the book and went in search of a good seat. Although my table-mate was less than desireable (an older man reading UsWeekly and grinning lecherously at me) I managed to snag a seat at my favorite. It’s at a table that overlooks the busy street below the Prudential Center. I turned my chair around so  I could prop my feet up on the windowsill (and thus not be distracted by anyone walking around) and settled in for what I thought would be a little while of reading.

Ah. But then that little gem of a book turned out to one of the best things I’ve read in quite some time. Here’s my favorite quote: “I’m trying to look on the bright side, and I will. As soon as I find it.” Perfection. The book was so good.

And funny too, unfortunately. It’s unfortunate because I am the type of person who refuses to laugh out loud for no apparent reason in public. So this is what ensued:

(Something funny in the book)

Me: Snort-giggle. (Trying to be quiet. So I squash my laughter into my scarf.)

Then I glance around to see if anyone noticed, which of course they have.

(Something else funny.)

Me: Giggle-snort-giggle. Major coughing fit ensues from trying to stifle laughter. Still reading. Begin uncontrollably giggling at the inappropriate things going on in the book.

People staring. Table-mate leaving. (Good.) Guy next to me looking over his shoulder. People stopping. More staring.

Me: Laugh.Out.Freaking.Loud. And it’s not a cute laugh either. It’s a constant, awkward, giggle. I am that person. The one in quiet coffee shops or bookstores that you hate because they won’t shut up already. Yeah…hey.

And so on.

Suffice it to say that book was entirely enjoyable. So enjoyable that I spent seven hours reading it today. And finished it. Three hours in I took a break and decided it would only be fair to switch from Barnes and Noble to the Borders down the road. And I was getting hungry.

So I got dinner. Then I went to Borders. Whereupon I continued the unfortunate read-snort-giggle-stifle process. Until I finished the book.

The book ending surprised me, to be honest. Unlike most chick-lit books, the heroine in this story did not have a happy ending. Despite  a declaration of love from the man she loves and despite knowing she does not want to get married (like she thought she did through the entire book) and admitting it aloud, she GOES THROUGH WITH the marriage.

You fail, Jennifer. Utter fail. This fictional character let herself be roped into a life she didn’t want; a life that every single other character in the book pushed her toward because she was getting older. Because it was the appropriate thing to do at her age. Because she needed to “be taken care of.” Because once again getting married is the ultimate expectation from other people. Bah.

I like this author. I like that she wrote a book that I thought was going to be predictable. Instead it made me think. It made me think about how so many people get roped into lives they don’t want. That’s one of my biggest fears. I’m scared of waking up ten years from now, looking around me and saying “What the eff am I doing?” It’s one of the major reasons I picked up and moved. It was unexpected.

After finishing this book I started walking back toward the Prudential Center. I just needed to think and clear my head. On my way there I passed so many groups of people. Friends. Couples. You name it. I overheard so many conversations about people’s plans for Friday night. Where they were going. What they were doing. What they would eat or drink. What they would wear. If fist-pumping what appropriate. I so badly wanted to hop into one of those conversations. I wanted to giggle with the obviously drunk group of girls and gossip about who kissed whom the other night. I wanted to make plans about who and when and where to meet. I wanted to go dancing with a group of friends. My friends.

What’s ironic about this whole thing is that earlier in the day I had turned off my cell phone because I just wanted to be by myself. I didn’t want to worry about phone calls or answering text messages. I just wanted to be.

That stupid short walk reminded me of how much I miss my friends. Argh. It brought me down just a tad from my 7-hour reading high.

After seeing all those people I decided it probably was time to take myself back home. I went down to the T, where I saw a massive group of junior high schoolers chattering to each other. Yeah. I immediately turned around, walked back up the stairs and opted to walk home.

Truly it was not the best night for walking. There was a pretty steady mist coming down, but I needed it. I needed the sharpness of the air on my face. I needed to hear the constant clicking of my heels on the pavement. I needed to hear the sirens, the honks, the sounds of cars rushing past. I don’t know why. I just know it made me feel less like I was about to float away and more as though I wasn’t alone.

Don’t ask me why. But it made me feel better.

While I was walking home a quote popped in my head: “No matter where you go, there you are.” It reminded me how I used to be unhappy back home. Not unhappy with the people I was around or anything like that. I just knew Texas was not where I was supposed to be. I thought moving would be the ultimate answer to that feeling. I thought it would mean instantly being happy, all the time.

I was terrified that when I moved I’d still feel restless and unsettled. Unsatisfied. Although I don’t, it’s manifested itself into loneliness. And that quote made me realize that truly, happiness is a choice. While I walked I listed the reasons I’d had for moving. I reminded myself they were good reasons. They made sense to me and they still do. I made a good choice. A darn good choice.

So now I have to realize that this is where I am. Boston. Yes, it’s far, far away from the familiarity of home and my friends. I need to settle down, and make more choices that allow me to stay to true to myself and make me happy. I need to change things so I’m not lonely anymore, and if that means reaching out more, opening myself up, so be it. I have become more guarded than I realized, and that’s not a healthy way to live life. It takes time. I know this. It’s a process. But I will find my way. After tonight I have more confidence in that than anything else.

Here I am. Right here.

I wish I lived in a children’s book.

Today the only thing I wanted was a Starbucks chai tea latte. It’s my favorite drink in the world. My go-to drink of choice. A grande extra-hot chai. It’s delicious. Slightly spicy and sweet. A hint of cinnamon.

Good day or bad, this is always the drink I choose when I go get coffee. This drink has the ability to make a bad day seem good or a great day even better.

That’s all I wanted today. I needed the warmth. I needed to wrap my hands around something hot and breathe in the smell and relish its comfort. Because today is a bad day. Today is a terrible day.

Today I am Alexander and I am having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. I need to move to Australia, where everything is upside down and I will have a super, wonderful, amazing, very good day.

But because I do not live in a children’s book and this is reality, I must face up to it. And I must confess that I made a mistake. A very big mistake. So here goes. Please don’t judge me too harshly, and please realize that I’ve been beating myself up over this for the last two days. So I don’t need anyone else to give me crap for this.

My job that I was supposed to start Monday turned out to be some sort of a hoax. Long story short, I found out today that it was not real. That no wedding dress designer ever existed and that in all actuality it probably was some teenage kid who put up the job post to play a trick on an unsuspecting job seeker.

You all know me. And you know how humiliated I am by this. I feel foolish. I feel stupid. I feel like I’ve confirmed people’s expectations of me; the idea that I am the small-town girl who got my ass kicked by the city in five weeks. That’s it already chewed me up and spit me back out on the ground, broken, disheveled and dirty.

That’s how I’ve felt for two days. Horrible. Disappointed in my own self. I haven’t been honest with my loved ones because I didn’t want to disappoint them yet. I’ve been waiting for confirmation that my job truly was a joke. So for the last two days I’ve been hiding in my room, stuffing my face with junk food (it truly was a pathetic sight), and completely freaking my roommates out. I’ve been avoiding phone calls and text messages from people who care about me because I didn’t want to admit the truth. I’m so disappointed in myself. The thought that others are going to be disappointed in me breaks me. It hurts. It hurts because just yesterday I received a letter in the mail from my grandfather, the man whose opinion matters almost more than anyone’s in this world to me (besides my own parent’s opinions), sent me a letter detailing exactly how proud of me he was. He told me he knew I could do it. He told me he always knew I’d succeed. And now, the next thing he’s going to hear about me is that I screwed up. And that absolutely breaks my heart.

So let’s get back to today, and finding out for sure it was all a lie. I was on the street and trying to get in touch with my best friend. At that point I luckily ran into my friend who took me to the apartment where we both work as personal care assistants for a woman who had a stroke. (That’s my part-time job. I only work there occasionally.) Anyway. He took me upstairs where both he and Betsy listened to me explain my story and cry. Just a little. I hate, hate, hate crying in front of people, so this was tough. Betsy said something to me that hit hard. I was helping her to the bathroom and she said, in her slow, sweet way, “Any time you feel like crying, Katie, you just think of me.” Oh, Betsy. I love her. Thank you.

She made me realize this isn’t the end of the world. Things could be worse. But I’m young and alive and have my health. I have my family and friends.

It took a few hours for that to sink in though. After I left her apartment I walked slowly over to the Prudential Center so I could get lunch. I am so lucky I didn’t get run over by a car, because I was not paying attention to anything on that walk. I just was thinking about what I was going to tell my parents.

I got lunch in the food court and had the odd sensation that I was having an out of body experience. I felt like I was floating. I felt like I needed to walk carefully. I felt like if anyone touched me or jostled me or simply looked at me wrong I would cave in and succumb to the panic that was (and is) nipping at my heels. I felt like if I didn’t keep biting down hard on my lip and clenching my fists I would break apart in a thousand pieces. I felt scared and alone. I sat there in that food court for an hour. Staring. Thinking. Pondering.

Thinking. “It’s not over yet.” There’s no way it’s over yet. I’ve been here five weeks, and yes, this is a major setback. But it’s so not the end of the world.

So now I figure I have two choices. One of them is to crawl back in my bed and book the next flight back home. I can call this a good time, say I had a great extended vacation and head on back to Texas. Back to the desert, where I always felt suffocated.

Or I can look each and every one of you in the eye, say I’m sorry for not being honest the last couple days and admit I messed up. I was naive and foolish but it’s not going to be the end of this. I’m going to stand on my two feet and continue fighting for my dreams. Those are the most important things to me. This is all I’ve wanted for three years now, and I’m not going to let one (major) bad thing break me. I’m not. I’m just not. The old, immature me would have let this break her, but not me. I’ve got to develop that tough skin big city people are famous for.

So that’s what I’m doing. I sat in that food court and made my decision. I would get up, go get my chai tea latte (venti extra hot chai, as a special treat), and get on the T. I would come home, write this post, talk to my parents and then get it together. I would compose myself, realize that this is probably the worst that can happen for now. So what’s left to hurt me? Not too much.

Anything that happens from here on out can’t be too bad. I have to know that I can handle it. Because I can. I absolutely know I can and I will.

So that’s my story of my first big mistake in the big city. I’m embarrassed but at this point I believe that being honest probably is the best course of action. I’ll figure something out. I have people in Boston who will take care of me when I need them. God will take care of me; I know this deep in my gut. I know this because the verse “pray without ceasing” has been rolling around and around in my head for the last three days.

And although it would be nice to move to Australia, I have to realize, like Alexander, that the people down under have bad days too. It’s just a matter of not letting those bad days break us. I love you all.

To East Texas and Back…

So, I think I have had one of the best-last 5 days ever!

 

It started on Wednesday. I left Lubbock on Wednesday morning for Dallas, bright and early. Or rather, muggy, drizzly and early. What awful weather! It rained and drizzled until I made it past Eastland. Blah. The drive was uneventful at best, but it reminded me how much I love road trips, especially solo ones. I listened to music, watched the road go by and thought about everything. It was nice to unwind, and it was nice to have some time to myself.

Once I got to Dallas, I drove to the house where I stayed all last summer. It was SO nice to see Tom and Joann and Jojo. I had missed them all so much, and I had missed the area as well. Compared to Lubbock, it’s amazing. I mostly read that day and spent some time with Jo until we all went to dinner.

The next day, I slept in, took my time getting ready, and hit up the Grapevine mall. Although it’s not as fun going alone, I enjoyed walking around and looking at everything. Surprisingly, I was able to refrain from buying anything. Back in the village, I ran around to a few different stores. I was mostly whiling away the time until it was time to leave for… (ba duh duh duh)…

 

RENT!! Oh. My. God. It was AMAZING. I can barely believe I saw it again, especially with Anthony Rapp and Adam Pascal. Once I finally arrived at the theater, after my “trusty” TomTom got me lost once or twice, I went inside and got through where they scan the tickets. I decided to go ahead and myself some Rent goodies, and went to the merchandise counter. After I picked out a lovely T-shirt and backpack with a program that detailed the history of Rent, I walked over to somewhere I could sit and organize everything I was trying to carry in my hands.

And then I realized I had lost my ticket.

For a minute I panicked, then found someone and explained my situation.  I told the woman I knew I was supposed to sit in the balcony but didn’t know which section or seat. She was so nice, and found an available seat in the balcony for me. Luckily, that seat turned out to be about ten times better than my original seat. 🙂

The play was incredible. I had heard about Rapp and Pascal, read Anthony Rapp’s memoir, listened to the soundtrack, watched them perform on YouTube, listened to “What You Own” (their signature song) billions of times, and was so excited to actually see them. The moment Anthony walked out on the stage, the theater erupted. It took five minutes for everyone to be quiet, and another five to be quiet when Pascal came on. I was completely in shock that I was actually there. Once the play began, I sat in my seat, entranced, not thinking about anything else. They went through the first three songs, and I was slightly annoyed because the lights were still on in the theater. Then, the third song ended…

And the theater went pitch black. Then every single light on stage came on at once, in a brilliance that is hard to describe. Everyone on stage is in motion, running for their spot and the singing begins and the dancing begins. The play had officially started, and the song “Rent” (one of my favorites) blasted throughout. I was absolutely in awe. This play never ceases to amaze me, and for some reason, I absolutely adore it. I don’t think I will ever tire of it. (The really sad thing is that as I am writing this, I am watching the play on my DVD.)

One of the best parts of the play was watching Anthony Rapp. I had read his memoir, and I felt as though I had something in common with him: Rent is something indescribable to him, the same as it is to me. In his memoir, this play allowed him to express something he could not. He said he put everything into each performance, and that was so evident when I saw him. He loves this play, and it seemed he strives to make each performance special for the audiences. He never stopped moving. He danced all over the stage. He sang his heart out, and made it fun for the audience. He was, without a doubt, the heart and soul of the play. The best part was his obvious passion. It blazed off the stage and hit you in the face. It was incredible.

I had seen the play last spring in March, when Mom took me to New York for spring break. It was fun to see who had joined the tour from the cast I saw. Surprisingly, there were actually about four or five.

I am so grateful I was able to see this play, especially since Rapp and Pascal were in it. I think I’m also glad I went by myself. No one else really understands how I feel about Rent; no one else I know well enjoys it as much as I do. I think honestly if I’d taken anyone it would have ruined it for me because I know I would have just worried the entire time about what they thought.

I love Rent.

 

On a side note, I read an amazing book while in Dallas. It was called The Story of Forgetting by Stefan Merrill Block. I was a little dubious about reading it, because it was about Familial early-onset Alzheimer’s disease. But it turned out to be so wonderful. The author described those who had Alzheimer’s as being in a place called Isidora. It is a beautiful place; a place where no one remembers anything, but are content and can still communicate. They communicate through touch and feelings, and do not have to know words. It is perfect there. The way Block described it reminded me of the perfection and contentment of the Garden of Eden.

So that is what will get me through the remainder of this horrendous and painful disease. This is what I believe: The mind of  my beautiful, vibrant, sweet Mimi is in Isidora. And she is still these things and more. She is happy, content, loved and still alive. Her body has just remained with us. But she is OK. In fact, she is great; no longer a prisoner to a brain that can not function anymore. She is free. And when her body is released for good, she will be even freer. This is a comforting thought.

The author referenced a few books he read to get inspiration for his book. One of them was called Losing My Mind: An Intimate Look at Life with Alzheimer’s by Thomas DeBaggio, and I decided I had to read it, if only to gain some more understanding into the workings of this disease. It is a man’s memoir after he was diagnosed with the disease, and it is fascinating because as you read, you are privy to his innermost thoughts and struggles concerning this disease. You can see how his brain has deteriorate, because he repeats stories throughout the book. I love it so far, but it is difficult to read, because now I wonder how Mimi felt when she was diagnosed. I was so young when I was told she had it, and I did not really understand the consequences or pattern of the disease. I feel like I am just now beginning to understand it.

 

So finally, on to happier things detailing the rest of my weekend.

 

On Friday morning, I woke up and left Tom and Joann’s, then stopped at my favorite Barnes and Noble and got coffee. Then it was on to Winnsboro. I had so much fun! I spent time with Kasey, and got to spend a lot of time with Thomas’ family also, which was nice. Kasey’s graduation party was so much fun. For some reason, her family’s new house is extremely relaxing. Although we spent the whole afternoon outside, and my hair was a nightmare after, it was a great afternoon. I loved when everyone went down to the pond to fish, and it was fun trying to navigate through the mud. 🙂

Except for that darn june bug in my shoe, it was perfect. I miss you, Kasey!

I think this trip was exactly what Thomas and I needed. Getting out of town lifted a weight from our shoulders. I feel like things changed between us, in a good way. We laughed so much together, and had fun on the ride home, just me and him. He tortured me and kept trying to take pictures of me driving. We talked about everything. He even let me stop in Abilene to see my Grandmommy and Grandaddy and eat dinner with them. Things are amazing with Thomas. I am so lucky to have him, and he makes me so happy.

 

Life is pretty darn good right now.

New Place. New Me.

Well, people,

 

Things have changed once and for all since the last time I blogged. I don’t even remember when that was.

 

I am officially, 100% moved out of the 48th house. Although I will miss both of my roommates (and the multitudes of space) I love, love, LOVE my little one bedroom apartment. It already feels like home, and I love knowing I can do what I want with it. My living room/dining area are much bigger than I expected, which was a pleasant surprise. The entire place is better than I thought it would be. I have a fantastic view of the pool, and my apartment is nestled in among all the others. There are also a lot more college students living here than I would have thought. Half the cars in my parking lot have commuter north stickers.

When it came to moving in, I was a little worried, but thanks to some great friends I was able to move in with no problem. I woke up bright and eary Friday morning and threw myself into packing with a vengeance. I spent the entire day at it. At 5, I was able to go pick up my keys and see the apartment for the first time! Thomas came with me, and crammed a huge load of boxes and bags into my car. (Apologies for my gigantic boxes of books, guys.) After we that stuff in to the apartment, we met Nate, Matthew and Jess back at the house. I was amazed, but we were able to get all my furniture and the rest of my stuff (minus a few odds and ends) in TWO loads. Thanks so much guys; I couldn’t have done it without you.

After everyone had left, Thomas and I went to get groceries at Wal-Mart, ran them back to the apartment, unloaded the stuff that needed to be refridgerated, and then made one last trip to the house. There, I got my hanging clothes and hangars, and Thomas loaded the rest of my food. Then I cleaned my bathroom, vacuumed my room,  and did a few dishes. Once the car was loaded, we had one last task: To get Felix into his carrier and into the car. Oh. My. God. That normally sweet-tempered cat became “Exorcist cat.” At the sight of the carrier, he dug his claws HARD into my arms. When faced with the opening into the dark unknown, he twisted. Thomas finally had to upend the carrier and shove Felix head first into the cage. However, Felix wasn’t going down without a fight. Like a cartoon, Felix locked all his paws against the sides of the opening and shoved back. But it wasn’t even over once he was in the carrier. He spun and flipped (quite a feat for him being such a huge cat in a tiny crate), and cried the entire way home. It almost made me cry, even with Thomas cursing at him for clawing his fingers. 🙂 Once we got to the apartment we ran him into the bathroom, shut the door, and let him out. He had shed a pound of fur on the ride. Poor little guy.

After that little trauma, I wasn’t sure what he would do for the next couple of days. But he’s been so happy, sunning himself in the windows and playing more than I’ve ever seen him play.

 

It’s been an ordeal trying to organize everything, but I’m finally almost finished. I love it!

 

I feel like I’m finally returning to myself. No more stress. No more fear. No more anger. No more resentment. I feel cleansed.

Friends.

I have something I’ve been thinking about the past few days…

 

I’ve always been a person who expects a lot out of my friends. If you say you’re going to call me, call. If we make plans, let’s follow through, because I want to see you. I ask that you listen to me if I need to talk, because I’ll do the same for you.

 

I just want everyone to know, if I do expect too much, it’s only because I try my hardest to return it to you guys. I don’t want anyone to think this post is because of something someone did or didn’t do.

 

It’s actually about me. I feel like I haven’t done my best to appreciate everyone the way they deserve in the past couple of months. I could make excuses and say “Life has sucked; I’m stressed, blah, blah, blah.” But that’s no excuse for me. If I have treated anyone with less than the respect they deserve, I’m sorry. I realize it, and I’m working on it. I’m sorry guys. I know this sounds lame, I’ve just got so much on my mind lately, I feel a little sad with the weight of it.

 

One of my friends is moving back home today, and I’m so sad about it. I’m really going to miss you!