I have been living out of bags since March 30th, 2012. I figured this out after I couldn't really put my finger on why I felt this nagging sense of impending doom lingering around me all morning. I went for a jog and did some pondering and I realized it was because I was anxious about again shoving my life into my Chevy Cobalt and heading out for another round of travel. Let me be clear, gentle reader, about my life in bags. This is not a case of back to back vacations or "business" travel as I hear some people outside the education field get to partake in where all their lodging and meals are free and at least four stars. No, I have been living out of bags for survival in dark times. It was a confluence of events that led me to become a 28 year old bag lady, and unfortunately the time and my mental perseverance will not allow for that story to be divulged in its entirety here at thisjuncture. But you can safely assume that I am looking forward to not having a surf board, lamp, four pillows, a hiking backpack, two candles, six pairs of shoes, seven dresses, a broken Kindle, the 4th season of Battlestar Gallactica, and sundry bags of clothes and toiletries in my car at all times.
My life in bags will come to a temporary close by August 13th, but this experience has gotten my gears grinding about the bigger picture of my life inertia. As my Mom pointed out to me earlier this week, my life has been in flux for, well, ever. Since I left for college, I have moved eleven times. I changed careers before the age of 25. I have been in love and cried bitter tears when love wasn't enough. Whilst my peers were having children and buying houses, I was learning first hand the trials of the DC rental market and scoffing at the idea of buying furniture that requires a payment plan. And while my Mom laments about my bad luck and prays daily for my life to finally "settle", I wonder: am I maybe just meant to be a nomad?
Let me clarify: I do not wish to be a bag lady indefinitely. But, perhaps by the same token I also don't wish to have a house full of things and ties that bind me to one spot on this earth indefinitely. At least not yet. I know that I have been fighting against the idea of being "unsettled" for years. Maybe that was the wrong tactic. Mayhaps trusting my life's inertia will lead me to a more "settled" place, even if "settled" still requires a few bags.
August 9, 2012
May 7, 2012
Still a wino in a small town?
Ahhh, how much I took for granted being a wino in a small town. It's hard not to reminisce as I re-read my previous angst filled blog posts that are overflowing with indecision, ripe with self-deprecation and flavored with just a hint of earnest self-pity that can only be cultivated by a comfortable mid-twenties lifestyle. My former self would tell my present self "Well, at least all that self-imposed suffering was worth it- you made it to the big time! Big city life and big girl job! Now lose a few pounds and finally learn to cook you big complainer!"
My former self would be mostly right. The school and work paid off and here I am serving the public, paying all my bills on time and treating myself to frozen yogurt whenever the spirit moves me. I have made it. It's most unfortunate that my public service career bars me from writing about much of what happens in my day to day grind, but I am sure I can change some names to protect the innocent and bring you a few stories here and there that will put a smile on your face and fear in your heart about the state of public education. Nonetheless, in the end, I know this blog will hardly be read and my meanderings about my life and losses are mainly for my own benefit.
But in case anyone has been thoroughly miffed at my radio silence, consider yourself caught up to speed. Along with my gainful employment and my move to the DC area, I have maintained a stellar relationship with a fabulous man, who unfortunately is in grad school deep in the bowels of the American South. In his absence, I've made lots of great new friends at my work to keep me company, along with my many dear old friends who live in the area. I managed to live with the craziest person in the DC area, and subsequently found myself squatting with none-other than my bold and fearless former roommate Grahame and his wife Caroline. I tried Dahn yoga, coached my school's quizbowl team, sprained my ankle, helped my Mom through brain surgery and learned how to work a DVR. My goals at present include joining a softball team, finding a permanent dwelling, taking advantage of more out-of-school volunteering opportunities and continuing to explore the amazing bike trails this area has to offer. I also would like to rekindle my former passion for dancing with reckless abandon in weird places, including my kitchen, car and unsuspecting metro platforms.
It's certainly true that I miss my life as a wino in a small town. But I think I'll keep the name. Who knows, the time may come when I will be a wino in a small town again. Besides, it sounds better than "school counselor in suburban hell", don't you think?
My former self would be mostly right. The school and work paid off and here I am serving the public, paying all my bills on time and treating myself to frozen yogurt whenever the spirit moves me. I have made it. It's most unfortunate that my public service career bars me from writing about much of what happens in my day to day grind, but I am sure I can change some names to protect the innocent and bring you a few stories here and there that will put a smile on your face and fear in your heart about the state of public education. Nonetheless, in the end, I know this blog will hardly be read and my meanderings about my life and losses are mainly for my own benefit.
But in case anyone has been thoroughly miffed at my radio silence, consider yourself caught up to speed. Along with my gainful employment and my move to the DC area, I have maintained a stellar relationship with a fabulous man, who unfortunately is in grad school deep in the bowels of the American South. In his absence, I've made lots of great new friends at my work to keep me company, along with my many dear old friends who live in the area. I managed to live with the craziest person in the DC area, and subsequently found myself squatting with none-other than my bold and fearless former roommate Grahame and his wife Caroline. I tried Dahn yoga, coached my school's quizbowl team, sprained my ankle, helped my Mom through brain surgery and learned how to work a DVR. My goals at present include joining a softball team, finding a permanent dwelling, taking advantage of more out-of-school volunteering opportunities and continuing to explore the amazing bike trails this area has to offer. I also would like to rekindle my former passion for dancing with reckless abandon in weird places, including my kitchen, car and unsuspecting metro platforms.
It's certainly true that I miss my life as a wino in a small town. But I think I'll keep the name. Who knows, the time may come when I will be a wino in a small town again. Besides, it sounds better than "school counselor in suburban hell", don't you think?
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