Giving Life

I cannot compose an essay with enough second grade adjectives--fantastic, awesome, totally fun--to convey to my abundant audience the extent to which I enjoy my job. I am of the lucky few who wake up, albeit exhausted, looking forward to spending a third of my day behind a computer, in a cube. You get it. But do you? The job presents challenges for me to grow both individually and professionally. Allows me to work with people just enough, to the point right before the incompetency has my skin crawling. Has me attending oh-so-important meetings. And knocks each bit of entitlement out of me, leaving me right where I belong.  Enough, enough about my crazy cool contracting job. Unless you are wannabe me for hire in Atlanta, Denver, or Odgen? Then we should continue this conversation elsewhere.  

At the end of the day, circa 5:00 pm government time, my job is not very fulfilling. And I do not think I realized this until I was in the throes of spearheading a blood drive in honor of my neighbor recently diagnosed with osteosarcoma. It should have hit me long along… but did not. This... this feeling is OK, especially for now… since I have this project. I can still love my job. And find satisfaction outside the office. When this blood drive has come and gone, I need to remind myself to take on some volunteering efforts. Maybe I could go work at a puppy shelter? Or read to elders? Or organize another blood drive? I do not know. I will think of something. I might not be making what I consider to be a difference in the workplace but this certainly does not limit me for having a positive impact on the planet and people beyond the office. I can still be the humanitarian I dream of being.

My meeting with a wonderful woman from the American Red Cross put life in perspective for me. While this blood drive effort is a large task, as a not full-time job, it is serving. And I thrive on it. When I send emails/make phone calls to the Red Cross, when I research the pros and cons of a 501(c), when I work with others on a common goal of making the difference in this 11 years old life, I feel something. I cannot pinpoint one emotion. It is an overall 'this is where my passion lies' mental state. This is what I want to be doing. This is who I want to be doing this for.

The goals and ethos I set for myself have not been obliterated. My job is not my life. It is a means to a life. My accomplishments on the job are not my accomplishments in life. 

I will close with a quote by one of my favorite men: "It's easy to make a buck. It's a lot tougher to make a difference." (Tom Brokaw) 

Fall. Friends. Football. Fun.

I traveled to Boston, MA this past weekend for a college reunion of sorts. Clemson Tiger fans travel well, and with college friends littered up and down the East Coast, football season repeatedly brings us back together.

It is good to be amongst people you share a rich history with; hopefully a history that will continue to grow throughout the extent of my life. I have been through chapters that have been far more down than up… with lots of in between. And these people have fingerprints all over my seasons. Being together with them is such a great touchstone to stop and consider how far each one of us has come in our journeys.

I am never thankful enough for these friends, nor do I realize how much I miss them, until we are together again.

As we shared stories of the college days, I was challenged by the memories told I have little recollection of--how events and relationships impact each one of us in unique ways. Times that seemed overwhelming at the time are now nothing more than stories we tell. This comes as a welcomed reminder for the darker times.

My brother quotes Robert Frost in his college essay, “In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned from life: It goes on.” And after editing his writing, that quote seemed a fairly certain way to sum up how I got from there to here.

A Night On. A Weekend Off.

I made plans this weekend to visit a friend in Philadelphia, PA, but after consecutive nights of next to no sleep, I decided to bail on my plans... and straight jacket myself to a couch in hopes I could relax. It was not two seconds after I said this out loud to my mom, under the impression she would call me out if I strayed from my plans, I got a call from a neighbor inviting me to hang out with her and her munchkins while her husband was out of town. We headed to the playground to soak up some good weather. C.R.M showed off her monkey bar skills while O.D.M. ran wildly--100% boy. After a brief walk on the nature trail where we spotted deer, spiders, a gopher, and many squirrels we went for dinner at the fancy grocery store. Turns out, Friday nights movies are played for children, so S.J.M. and I chatted while the  kiddos watched Balto, some film that must be from the 1980s because I have certainly never heard about it. Past the bedtime of two tired children, we rushed them home (and to bed) and continued our cellphone-less conversation into the early morning hours.

This is a nontraditional post. There is no life lesson here. No cheesy metaphor to be had. But there was an incredibly honest conversation with a woman I respect, filled with words I need to hear and wanted to share.

Losing Sleep

I could not sleep. I could not sleep. I could not sleep. Could not sleep. Could not not not sleep. I.Simply.Could.Not.Sleep. Then no sleep became normal. I adjusted. Or managed. And life went on not sleeping ever after. For me, it was 21 months before I began to sleep normally. I still have my sketchy nights. And the nightmares linger from week to week... but mostly I sleep.

So I sleep. I sleep. I sleep, sleep, sleep. I sleep about four to nine hours each night. I sleep and sleep more because I cannot possibly fill that 'rest bar' with enough sleep. Then... last night... no sleep.

Not more than two hours, all dispersed in seven minute increments throughout the five hour night. But this was different, entirely polar opposite, could not have been more opposite. Last night, I could not sleep because I was incredibly excited. Like I cannot even explain.

I try to avoid future talk on my blog, because I bore witness to a drastic life plan interruption just when I thought I ruled the world. But tonight, I do not care. Or I am trying not to care. I am actually anxious with excitement. There are so many electrifying things on my horizon; I am nearly paralyzed. That is not even me being me--dramatic.

Say What?

On Tuesday, I returned from a long weekend trip to Michigan. My grandparents are old… and aging. Tomorrow, Grandpa will be 88. And come the 23rd of September, Grandma will celebrate her 89th year! To give you an idea of what I was up against, I thought I would share a few Grandma-statistics from the early hours of my visit. 

• 10 minutes in she announced a recent death*
• 15 minutes in she told me I was thin**
• 60 minutes in she questioned my relationship with a friend who happens to be a boy***
• 89 minutes in she asked how my wedding planning was coming****
• 132 minutes in she proclaimed I had 23 months until I should be married*****
• 238 minutes in she started a sentence with “Let me tell you which friends of yours I find strange…”******
• 275 minutes in she requested I clarify my “recent” stance on religion.*******
• 300 minutes the berating stopped for the remained of the visit.********

And we all lived happily ever after. The end.*********

*Old people thing?

**This is no compliment. Apparently my weight fluctuates with her mood. Last time, at the exact same weight, I was fat.

***Grandma is convinced J.W.M. is my Prince Charming. The way he selflessly swooped in, putting his Peace Corps efforts on hold, to fly this Princess to the homeland has forever earned him heroic praise. I do my best to beat J.W.M. down in the eyes of my at times delusional Grandma. First off, he is Jewish. And she has photographic evidence. Secondly, he is tatted up with the most meaningless tattoos.

****Particularly fascinating since I am not even entertaining the prospect of a boy in my life right now... or ever.

*****Here is too hoping, Grandma!

******Sorry friends I happen to like a whole bunch, you are all entirely flawed.

*******During which conversation, she interrupted to informed me she used to be proud of me. I must have done something right at one point.

********False.

*********I love my grandma dearly, possibly more so than you adore yours, simply because I am a competitive person. And I feel superior when my love for someone exceeds your love for that equal.

Say Something #31

I am leaving town tomorrow. Actually I am leaving town basically every weekend this fall. Hooray travel. And friends. And football. And weddings. And birth. And family.

In the interim, I am going to miss these two hounds.

Say Something #30

Headaches are an ongoing 'normal' in this chapter of my story, triggered by a variety of variables. These days I am better able to foresee oncoming headaches and as a result prevent the escalation to full-blown migraine. Tuesday afternoon, this was not the case, a migraine came out of left field and pounded away at my "critical mind" for 36 full hours. At one dramatic point, my entire body went numb... a stark contrast to the seething pain. (Oh... and totally scary!) My "wellness" perspective measures this migraine an average paragraph in length, however, there was no page flipping--I was forced to trudge through this trench. The story continued over the course of two rather unproductive workdays, with a post-work meeting on Tuesday.

As I climbed into bed on Wednesday night, knowing Thursday would bring a brighter day, I touched base with Latte Woman. In a mangled-attempt to simply show I am here, she gracefully relayed an identical message. I wanted to refute her. Stop thinking of me... and my silly headaches crazy woman. My temporary hiccup is nothing but a speed-bump. Invest your energy elsewhere. I cannot quite wrap my head around her--brave, beautiful, caring, fierce, and strong. How does someone with so much on her plate love unconditionally? This woman is in my inner circle for a reason.