Impatiently Waiting

As of last Thursday, I have successfully applied to ten new positions in, I think, ten different states. The thing is, I didn't think I would do it. I know that might sound a bit harsh to say about oneself. But, I have never been a very patient person and I fear the unknown. So, naturally, the thought of taking the time to apply for a new job half-way across the United States doesn't appeal to me. I will have to wait to hear from them and it could take weeks, even a month or two before I hear anything. And there is no way of knowing if I will get hired anywhere or not, let alone get an interview. But I did it.

I was, and still am, just so tired of doing something over and over again, day after day, that I don't love. Granted, there is a great deal about my job that I DO love, so that is what makes it tough. But the main focus of my work is not where my passion lives. So each and every time I walk in that door, my heart isn't really in it. It is a BIT, of course, but it isn't really in it. So I decided I would give it all up and face the great unknown.

Maybe the unknown isn't such a scary place afterall. This has been a recent discovery of mine. I tend to look at things in black and white. It has always been either this or that, no in between. Take that and add a little, no, A LOT of impatience and you get: "Either I will stay in Michigan or I will get a new job half way across the world and live there for the rest of my life and never get to see my family". That thought right there is what has been bothering me the most. I can't imagine spending the rest of my life living that far away from my family. Then the other day, out of the clear blue sky, it finally HIT me. Who said it had to be the rest of my life?! I could take the job, move there, live there for the next two or three years, and then take yet another job much closer to home. In my line of work it isn't unusual at all to not stay in the same place for twenty years. Usually one does eventually, later on in their life. But this technically isn't, no matter how old I FEEL, "later on in my life". So what am I waiting for?

Now I find myself in an even worse position. I am excited. I could move anywhere! There is nothing holding me back! I am not married or dating anyone. I don't own a home. Hell, I don't even have an apartment. Now is the time to do it. Go out and explore, meet new people, make new friends. I need that in my life right now. Unfortunately, this is a much scarier place to be in. What if I don't get hired? What if I get my hopes up, apply to all these places, and I don't get hired anywhere? There is no way to know the answer to that question, I know. I will just have to be patient. Or should I say learn to be patient? Who knows where the tide will take me. All I can do is just ride the wave and do my best to find the joy in it. A few years ago I wouldn't have done it. I wouldn't have said "No, I will not take this life just because it is easy and safe, thank you very much. I am going to take my chances on THIS one over here." So at least I have that.

Viva Las Vegas or get out the crackers cause there's plenty of cheese in this post

Viva Las Vegas my ass. I just found out today that one of my best friends is moving to Las Vegas. And, being the selfish person I am, I said on the phone to her: "I don't think I can handle this!" This situation and all its frustrations and complicatons does not need guilt added to the mix. Hopefully she knows just how very proud I am of her. She amazes me. All of my friends do in so many ways. With my sister it is motherhood. She has 3 boys ages 4, 4, and 3. And not only can she handle it with flying colors, they are the sweetest, cutest, most well-behaved and loving little boys I have ever met. How does she DO it, I often ask. And my friend Melissa. She is so smart. In my eyes, there isn't anything she doesn't know. I often get frustrated with her when I ask her a question about one of my classes that I teach that she knows nothing about and she says she doesn't know. What do you mean you don't know, I ask. That's just not possible. Not to mention she is the most non-judgemental person I have ever met. And my friend Rachel. She can get along with anybody. It is impossible, in her presense, to not feel abosolutely wonderful about who you are. I once read that having grace means making everyone around you feel comfortable. This is Rachel. With Melanie it is her loyalty. Ever since we were young she and I vowed we would never let a boy come between us. This still holds true today. We have a list of things we wanted to do when we grew up and I think we are juuuuust about done with it. She is so committed and dedicated to everything she does and she deserves the Teacher of the Year award, in my opinion. And with Karen it is her strength and her ability to believe in herself. She worked so hard throughout this application process and I was constantly amazed by how she persevered. She never gave up. She wasn't afraid to reach for her dreams. I envy that quality in her just as I envy all the wonderful traits my friends possess. Naturally they possess much more than what I have listed here. There simply isn't enough room to explain just how wonderful they all are. Looking back at this post I think, my GOD, could I be more of a sap? Sheesh! But then again...each and every one of my friends always knows just how much I love them and how important they are to me. Is that such a bad thing? So Vegas here she comes. I can't imagine her and her husband and my peanut not being a part of my day to day life. But I also can't even put into words just how proud and happy I am for her either. That's life for you. Give and take.

Random Thoughts

I have been feeling a bit soft around the middle lately. I have always been slim or thin or small-framed, but I have NOT always been soft around the middle. I entered my thirties and everything seemed to fall apart. I crave afternoon naps, my joints hurt, wild night outs are few and far between and when they DO happen, midnight hits and I am ready for bed, and the list goes on and on. I didn't know it happened all at once. Isn't it supposed to happen gradually? Never-the-less a simple workout routine would do the trick, I am sure, but I just have never been able to get into it. Why go to the gym when I can sit and relax and watch some tv? And plus, beer is just way too good.

Lost in TransITION

This past Sunday I officially moved out of my apartment. This means there is no turning back. This is probably a good thing since all of my stuff is in my parent's basement now and the rest is in storage. I can't imagine how my family and friends, who helped with the move, would react if I suddenly said "Hey, you guys? Yeah, I was TOTALLY kidding, by the way! I didn't really want to move out! Isn't that funny?" So, yes, it is a good thing that there is, indeed, no turning back now. I am a procrastinator by nature. It is in my blood, I fear, to wait until the last possible moment to do anything. I was due to move out of my apartment, clean it thoroughly as to avoid any unwanted costs, and turn in the keys by December 3. So, naturally, I went about this task on December 3. I picked up my little sister, Kaylee, and she and I set off to pack up the few remaining items (notice I said few), clean the apartment, and drop off the keys. It is important to note here that I got to the apartment around 10:30 am (we would have gotten there sooner but Kaylee needed a pair of snow boots and so we had to go to Walmart first. I am telling you we had to) and that I needed to be done by 12:30 because I had to go see a play. If everything had run smoothly I do think I could have done it in the 2 hours I had alloted for myself. But as Murphy's Law states, what can go wrong will go wrong, or something like that. And thus it began. My sister gave me a vaccum sweeper when I moved in and it is incredibly old. I could not figure out how to open that thing up to change the bag. And the bag was not just fill it was spilling over and absolutely nothing was getting swept up. I beat it profously, I cried, I begged for mercy, and I wrestled with that thing for nearly 30 minutes. I tried to call my sister but she was not able to be reached. I called my brother-in-law but he seemed to be completely lost when it came to the ancient appliance. I thought it best if I simply set the vaccum aside and focus on something else before I completely lost it. I went on to cleaning out the refridgerator and as I was passing by the vaccum cleaner to begin to work on the bathroom, I thought I would try just oooonnnnnne last time. Turns out, all I had to do was SLIDE it to the left and wahlah! So naturally, all the tugging and upward pulling motions was never going to get me anywhere no matter how much force I exerted. I didn't have any extra bags though. I didn't realize this until after I had already gotten the old bag out. I looked at the time. It was almost noon. It didn't take me long to realize there was no way I was going to get this done before 12:30. So I had to come back after my shift at Buddies, after a trip to Meijer to get the vacuum bags. I got there around 11 pm. I worked in a frenzy and finished about 1:30 am. The few things I thought I had left? They turned into about 5 boxes, a broom, a mop, 2 baskets of random items, 2 shelves, an iron, an ironing board, and the vacuum sweeper. To this day I will never know how I got all that stuff in my car. It's amazing what you can accomplish when it's 1:00 am and you are on a mission. After I had packed the last item, I ran upstairs to grab my purse and turn out the lights. I was overcome by a feeling so intense, it really took me by surprise. I was going to miss it. I was going to miss it more than I thought I would. Yes, I was proud of making a difficult decision that not many people would. But it was my home. I thought back to the day I moved in. How excited I was and how good it felt to climb into bed that first night after unpacking and organizing. I thought about the day my friend Melissa came over and we spent a long time figuring out just where everything should go: "Hey, Lori? I think the cereal would be perfect here, in this cupboard!" and "Melissa, do you think this is a good drawer for the pot holders and towels?" I felt so indpendant and grown up. I thought about when I bought my Christmas tree and how much fun it was to decorate it and put up all the lights. I thought about the many meals I tried to cook on my own, not really knowing what I was doing. I thought about my cats sitting on the balcony and me laying out in the sun. I thought about Melissa and I playing our video games and she checking her email on the breaks. I thought about how, for as long as I could remember, I have been in transition. One transition to the next. I live my life in a state of transition and I wonder when the day will come when I feel I have reached that place of stability and consitency and groundedness that I so long for. I stood there looking at that bare and still apartment, doing what I could to hold back the tears. I took a deep breath and I shut the door. Making sure to do so quickly so as the cats wouldn't run out into the hallway, out of habit. By the time I got about half way home, to my new home, I felt much better. I turned up the Christmas music, breathed a sigh of relief, and thought: "Onwards and upwards, baby".

Moving Time

I spent the majority of last weekend cleaning my parent's basement in preparation for my arrival. If it is at all possible to be equally excited and mortified at the same time about my new living arrangements then that would best sum up my emotional state. It has nothing to do with my parents. I love my parents. We get along well, enjoy one another's company, and living with them ensures an increase in extended family time. So, naturally, I am excited. On the other hand, I am moving into a basement. Yes, this was my idea. I am 35 years old and I am moving into a basement. I have no husband, no job security, no savings, and I am moving into a basement. So, naturally, I am mortified.

As I was driving home after a weekend of clearing cobwebs, sweeping dust, and coughing and wheezing, my sister called. I had been expressing my aforementioned conflicted feelings to her and she felt she hadn't been a good listener so, burdened with guilt, she decided to call in order to make it up to me. She told me she was sorry I was feeling down, wished she could make it all go away, and within only a few moments we were both in tears. NOTE: My brother-in-law once told my sister that our family was the most emotionally-driven, guilt-ridden family he had ever met. I have no idea where he got that from.

My sister offered to "tidy the place a bit" in order to lift my spirits. Did I mention I am moving into a basement? I told her I just couldn't bring myself to do it. It is bad enough to have to move into a basement. I am quite certain it is much worse to move into a basement and then "tidy it up a bit". In the end, I decided some candles would be nice to cover up the musty smell, which is extremely faint, thank you very much. And I allowed my sister to talk me into some curtains as long as they were plain and merely functional in order to help mask the plastic covering to block the cold. Maybe once the holidays approach I can bring myself to put some Christmas lights up. As long as no one ever finds out and the purpose would be to simply supply more light, of course. Certainly not for decoration.

Paranoi-ya will destro-ya

I know I am not the only one out there who tends to think people are upset with them for some apparent reason or another. Or should I say for no apparent reason or another? Is it that I want people to be upset with me? What can I possibly gain from constantly worrying that others are angry with me? It doesn't happen everyday. "Constantly" is a bit of an exaggeration. But it happens often enough. Like today, for example. I was at a faculty meeting where I saw one of my colleagues. I waved, said good morning, the usual. His response was a bit aloof; which in my world can easily be transcribed as: " he didn't throw his arms around me declaring his unyielding love". Just the same, it triggered a thought process which still plagues me five hours later. It goes something like this:

Hmm...he seems a bit aloof. I wonder what is wrong? Is he upset with me? No, that's just silly. I haven't done anything to upset him. Well, maybe I have done something. But what could it be? Hmm...maybe he heard that I think so-in-so is negative all the time and he thinks I am being self-righteous for saying that. Or maybe I was supposed to be at that meeting yesterday and I didn't know it and so he thinks I am irresponsible? Or maybe I just look awful today, as usual, and he is thinking to himself that I am ridiculously dressed and that the dark circles under my eyes, hereditary or not, make me look 10 years older. Wait, did he just smile at me? No, he looks confused. I think he is just responding to what somebody else just said. No, that officially was not a smile. Why is he ignoring me like this? He must be upset with me. I wonder what I did...

And on and on it goes. Sadly, the concept of: "if I am unable to think of what I might have done I can logically presume I have, in fact, NOT done anything" never crosses my mind. I am not sure where this "paranoia" comes from. Nor do I enjoy it. Or have yet to find a way to conquer it. Have you ever heard the philosophy that only 10% of what we worry about actually happens? I am not sure I am getting that right. It might even be less than that. Sorry, I tend to get caught up with percentages and scales. Ask my friends. But, regardless, the idea of it is true. I would say 99% of the time the person I am currently thinking is upset or angry with me ends up not being upset or angry with me at all. (I am sure there were supposed to be some commas in that sentence) They are usually just having a bad day, or are tired, or maybe it's simply gas. Who knows? Nonetheless, it is tiring.

I am sure at least somebody out there suffers from this affliction as well. Well, maybe I shouldn't call it an affliction. That doesn't sound very nice and I wouldn't want to upset anybody. Wait, did I upset you? Are you mad at me?

The Biological Clock

I am feeling a bit tipsy as I am writing this so who knows how it will turn out. I decided I would "log" my moments of unhappiness in order to accurately calculate just how often I am unhappy. It turns out that, so far, today I have only had one moment where unhappiness crept into my mood. It's still early yet.

I was at Buddies, where I work a second job waiting tables, and I saw a couple come into the restaurant. The man was holding a little girl around the age of two, I would presume. She was fast asleep, safe and nestled in his neck. Instantly I felt the lump forming in my throat, the tightness in my chest, the burning in my eyes as they began to well up with tears. The waitress standing next to me, surprised, said: "What's the matter?" "I want one of those", I said. She seemed a bit confused. I am sure she was wondering what "one of those" meant, as to be expected. I get along incredibly well with all the servers, but at the same time don't relate to them. Give or take a couple, the majority of them are in their early twenties, with "acceptable-for-the-time-being" boyfriends. So she naturally hadn't a clue what I could possibly be talking about. It's ok, not many people do. It is called a biological clock. They say it ticks. I call it a very real, and often overwhelming, want and need. And I say it hurts. I don't know how to describe it any other way. A constant pain or pang in my heart that I fear will never be fullfilled.

The feeling subsided. It eventually does. But the thought is always there. It doesn't help that, in my life, I am surrounded by children. My sister has three boys, fraternal four year old twins and a three year old. I have two very close girl friends who have young children as well. One has a four year old boy and a girl who is almost two. And another friend who has a little girl who just turned one. It doesn't help that all of these children love me. People have always said that "children love me" and "I have a way with kids". It is true.

I also have a little sister from Big Brother Big Sister. She was supposed to be a little sister and I was supposed to spend about an hour or two a week with her. In reality, she is like a surrogate daughter and I usually spend anywhere between 5-12 hrs a week with her depending on whether or not she spends the night. I don't know how to do anything in moderation. I used to think that maybe God put so many wonderful and beautiful children in my life because he knew it wasn't in my plan to have my own. Over time, with the help of my friends and family, I have done what I can to let that thought go and opt for hope instead. Hope. It drifts in and out of my life. Today, it prevails. For a moment, just a moment, I could picture it. Maybe a stroll in the park. He and I are hand in hand, the birds are chirping under the clear blue sky, and she, our beautiful baby girl, is asleep in his arms, safe and nestled in his neck. Who knows where my attempt at hope will be tomorrow.

I Am Not A Chef

I made homemade soup last night. Well, if the corn comes from a can does it really count as homemade? It actually turned out really good and I was feeling pretty sassy about it. Hey, I can cook! I am GOOD at this! In retrospect, some things for me to think about before I label myself as one of those women who cook really well. 1. I ate a great deal of it while it was still in the pan and then had a bowl of it after it was finished and this, of course, ended with an upset stomach. 2. Being single, my tupperware selection is fairly limited and so I attempted to store the remaining soup in a ziplock bag. Just in case anyone is confused, it takes TWO people to accomplish this. One to hold the bag and one to pour. If you attempt to do it on your own it WILL spill out of that bag and all over the counter. And... 3. I think you are supposed to clean up the mess when you are finished cooking. Not the following morning.

Do you have to be a good cook to find a good man, I am wondering this morning? I ask this it being impossible, naturally, for me to not relate it to the neverending question that constantly races through my mind, "why am I single?" Good Lord, I hope not. Or I am in trouble.

Disclaimer

To begin with, let me get one thing clear: Borderline Happy Disorder is not a real disorder. I haven't been diagnosed with it nor, to be completely honest, have I ever even heard of it. I just finished reading "Girl, Interrupted" and the central character in the book is diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. When I was searching for a name for this blog it was the first thing that came to mind having just finished the book last night. I certainly couldn't diagnose myself with her condition (although if you were to take a look at the symptoms you might ask yourself the same question she did...haven't we all had it at some point in our lives?) This caused me to ponder what condition I do have as I am sure I have something. For some reason I find comfort in that. Don't ask me why. And Borderline Happy Disorder is what I came up with. What does it mean? Well, just what it says. I have a disorder where I am on the borderline of being happy. I am consistently, on a day to day basis, right on the verge of being happy. But, one way or another, I can't quite get there. This probably doesn't sound like a problem to many of you; but, believe me, it is. Ok, so now that we have gotten that squared up...

A little about me: I am a 35 (going on 42) yr old woman who is certain that I am in the middle of an early mid-life crisis. Life has passed me by. I will never find love or have a family and a home of my own. I love and hate my job at the same time and am in the process of applyling to other places hoping to find something that really fulfills me. (I know, the American Dream, right?) If it is at all possible to be a "crazy cat lady" when you only have two cats then I am that woman. I have a fantastic family whom I am very close to and wonderful friends. Important note: In both of the aforementioned groups, every woman is married and half of them already have children. So life hasn't passed me by? Are you sure? Ohhh...OK.

I think that is all for now. After looking this over I am now thinking...who is ever going to read this? But, for some reason or another, I felt compelled to put myself out there. That is something I am slowly beginning to learn in my later years. You have to put yourself out there. I am beginning to accomplish this is some areas of my life. And not so much in other areas. Ah, the joys of being single...