Coming soon

I'm working on a new, more focused and fully awesome reinvention of my blog. Expected launch is the beginning of 2013. Previews and specifics to come. I look forward to seeing you all soon.

Homeless. Need work. Anything will do.

This sign was held by a middle aged man perched on the median where a traffic light hung at the entrance to Walmart in Morehead City, North Carolina.

Fit enough for labor, but with a kind enough face for business or sales; he appeared in good health. He had his backpack and a sign, written in black marker on a torn piece of cardboard.

The look of desperation in his eyes struck a chord as I passed.

My summer was interesting to say the least, and I was genuinely afraid that because of our somewhat impetuous decision making (what we saw as a leap of hope), our family could end up like this man.

We had decided to move to North Carolina's coast based on the overwhelming feeling of serenity the sea brings to our family.  Even impatient me relaxes with only the sound of the waves.  When a job opportunity presented itself, we decided to go for it.  The idea was a fresh start, oceans and opportunity.

But it seemed from the moment we arrived, we were like fish swimming against the current.  Nothing went like we had planned.  

The apartment we had lined up was scary.  Our mistake was not going to see it ourselves.  We had family scope it out for us.

LESSON LEARNED: "Nice" is a relative term.

We arrived late on a Wednesday night, and had to stay.  The house was small enough to fit in the downstairs of the apartment we had just moved from.  There was water damage everywhere.  There were no counters or cabinets in the kitchen, mouse droppings in the bedrooms, and the entire place looked like it was still under construction.  The backyard was soggy from the septic system, and the dryer was in a shed, outside on cinder blocks.  When we opened the door to see it, there was a two inch roach on the dryer.  Worst of all, the bathroom looked like a gas station bathroom in a bad horror movie; covered with rust, mildew and dead bugs.

We spent only one night.  Panicked, we took the next apartment we were able to find.

Work was hard for my partner to find, and I was having a difficult time reaching my new boss.  After two weeks of this, I finally met with my employer.

The deal had changed.  The position he promised me was (to put it nicely) a joke.  

LESSON LEARNED: If it sounds to good to be true, it usually is.

We searched, applied, followed up and did it all again, but the situation remained the same. 

When we saw the sign, we both knew what needed to be done.

After a week of last ditch efforts and late night debating, we swallowed our pride and moved back to Pennsylvania.  Wiser for our journey, if nothing else.

LESSON LEARNED: Our plans and Life's planes for us may not be the the same.

To the poor man, on the median, begging for work, we were just another car passing him by.  But he reminded us that no matter how unsatisfied we are with our situation in life, someone has it worse.  

I wish I could have helped him that day, but we were in no position.  

Now, we are living with my mother-in-law, searching for full-time work and both working side jobs.  

This is almost where we started our journey together nine years ago.  Only this time, we have a clear picture of what we want and where we are working towards.  

It's funny how life sometimes pushes the restart button we wish we had.

Childhood Woes

People are talking about children growing up too fast.  In fact, there has been enough talk to call the 'disappearance of childhood' a societal issue.

Naturally, as with any issue, arguments can be made both agreeing and disagreeing that childhood is disappearing.  One could argue that technology exposes children to more information, more quickly, thus increasing their rate of understanding and maturity.  However, one could also argue that children are staying at home longer, and pursuing childlike activities to an older age.

Personally, I'm not sure whether childhood is disappearing or not.  What I do know is how my own child behaves is drastically different from how I behaved as a child.

When I was young, we were always outside.  Everyday, rain or shine.  We had races, colored with chalk, rode bikes, roller-skated, and played in the grass all day.

My seven-year-old daughter doesn't like to play.

She will color.  She will jump in the pool, build with blocks, or play with her dolls, but only if someone does it with her.  When she is alone, all she wants to do is watch movies.

I was concerned when I noticed that my child couldn't seem to use her imagination and play on her own.  Especially when she began quoting lines from the movies that were inappropriate for a little girl.  She would hear phrases like 'make out' in an animated movie and think it was ok for her.

So I looked to the Internet to see if other parents were having these problems with their children.  I found that they were.

So, I took action.  I started sending her to her room for mandatory playtime.  I had to give her suggestions of games she might want to play.  For example, I would tell her to play pet adoption day with her Littlest Pet Shops and her Barbies, or to pretend she was on safari with her stuffed animals.

I also limited her television, video game and Internet intake to two hours total per day for the summer and one hour per day during the school year, excluding educational activities.

At first, my daughter acted like I was punishing her, but she has been getting better at playing on her own.  If her friends are unavailable to visit, or I don't have time, she is now using her imagination more and playing like a child should.

This experiment has been going on for almost two months, and I can say that I am much less worried about my child's ability to be a child.  She has been more active and the use of her imagination has sparked many questions.  She thinks about the world differently when she is pretending, and she asks questions about how things work, or why things happen, that we then spend time together figuring out.

Her playtime has not only made her more independent, but has improved the quality of the time we spend together, by allowing me to perform the most basic task of a parent, explaining the world to my child.

The Precipice

This is the scariest and most exciting place I have ever been.

I have faced childbirth. (Not as horrifying as the movies make it out to be.)

I have faced heart complications at a young age. But even that didn't leave me with this feeling of uncertainty.

I am on the precipice of adulthood.

Now I consider myself an adult, as most people would. I maintain my own residence. I am a mother. I work and pay bills.  I have the responsibilities of an adult and the lifestyle, but I do not yet consider this my adulthood.

I am not on the life track I have set for myself.

I am about to graduate college.  I am applying for jobs in my field of study and preparing to move to a new state.  All of which are decisions I have made for the direction of my life.

For the first time I am taking steps into the future I have chosen.

Until now, I have worked the job that came along and paid the bills.  I never WANTED a position before.  I simply wanted a pay check.

I live in the state I grew up in, the one my parents moved me to.

I am on the edge of what I have always done and what I have always known and I'm ready for the change.

But change doesn't come without fear, hesitation and uncertainty.

I am at the mercy of employers.

Will they like my resume?  Will they like my work?  Will I like the career path I have chosen for myself, or will it one day end up feeling like a chore?  Can I compete in this job market with my lower level degree?

Millions of questions are running through my mind.

And it's exciting, because it is new and unusual.

I don't have the answers to any of these questions.  I don't think anyone does.  But I do know I'm not the only graduate feeling this way.

We will all get there.  All we have to do is jump and have a little faith.

Congratulations to the Class of 2012.

I want to be a...

Have you ever stopped to think about all the things you have ever wanted to be?

When you were little, you probably wanted a very official job, like a fireman or a ballerina. Or maybe you wanted to be Batman, or a princess. No matter what it was, you could look into the future and see yourself as your goal.

How many things did you want to be before today?

I can remember wanting to be a teacher, a dancer, a choreographer, an artist, and a detective like on Law and Order.

I thought about being a manager, a cook, a restaurant owner, a psychologist, a comedian, a historian working for a museum, and a script writer.

Now, today, I am working to become a media person. I want to be involved in what we think of as media (tv, radio, newspapers, and the Internet).

The point is, there are a million things we can see ourselves doing with our lives, and that vision changes as we grow and change ourselves.

We learn and we gain interest in different topics and fields. All of the experiences we have help determine the career decisions we make, and ultimately decide what we will call ourselves.

One day, when I am older and my child tells her significant other about me, she will say I'm a journalist, or a designer, or a retired cat lady.

The choices I make today will effect what I am labeled as in the memory of those who will tell my story.

That doesn't have to be just one thing and it doesn't have to remain the same. It will change with me.

Every day is a new chance to be something, to do something.

Breaking Free

Women lead two lives. 

Sometimes more, but for the most part just two.  We are strong, beautiful, opinionated creatures.  We know what we don't like. We know what makes us comfortable.  We each have our own sense of style and personalities that sparkle under the circumstances that make us feel like the women we think of ourselves as.  

Then we lead a life for those around us.  

Let's face it, we are mothers, daughters, and wives.  We play all of these rolls and in each there is a different stigma, there are different expectations of who we should be.

The problem starts when the you inside doesn't agree with the you life expects you to be.  

Mothers for example, are expected to be firm and gentle, playful, attentive and above all selfless.  Moms wake their children, lay out their clothes, hover over the childs' every move to be sure the child is clean, healthy, happy and respectful, while maintaining herself and all of the other duties we haven't even touched on yet.  

Wives (or girlfriends) are expected to be an entirely different creature.  A man wants his woman to be sexy, passive and attentive to his needs.  Men want you to laugh at their jokes, make them feel needed, cook, clean, care for their children, work to help with the bills and look perfect doing all of it.  Now beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but men expect their lady to know how he thinks she looks appealing.  

Then they want you to be a goddess in bed.  You should be ready to go at the drop of a hat and ready to end just as fast.  As if the day you already had wasn't exhausting enough, now you need to be his personal masseuse, stripper and porn star.  I'm all for fun in the bedroom, but in my experience, it is an expectation to be fulfilled rather than an experience to be enjoyed.

And of course as a daughter, you can't be taking part in any of these acts because your parents still like to think of you as their little girl.  

But what about the woman inside every woman?  

It's a taboo subject to talk even among ourselves about the lives we want to have or the things we don't do because of our responsibilities in these roles.  You become exhausted trying to keep up with all of the demands.  You feel bound by your responsibilities and are afraid to express any disappointment with the life you lead for fear of scrutiny.  

Some women give up going to college, or a career in something they love to care for children or move with a spouse so he can take a job.  Some lose friends and relatives over relationships and disputes with your partner.  Sometimes it is far worse.

There has to be some inner balance.  Otherwise the woman inside will break free recklessly.  Don't keep the you you want to be bottled up inside for anyone.  If you can't be yourself 100% they don't deserve the wonderful you inside.  And don't ever settle for what life has handed you.  If it isn't in line with who you are then change the situation.  

If you and your husband don't have the same views on major issues affecting the way you live your lives, then maybe the relationship isn't healthy for you.  If being a 'cool parent' doesn't help you raise your child the way you want them to be, maybe you need to change it up, find your own way.  

Know what you feel and believe and live by it and no one else's standards.  We are not our grandparents generation and the idea that women need to live like this is dying but not dead.  Let's not pass this burden of womanhood on to our daughters. 

THIS BLOG IS NOT MY USUAL STYLE...

Overeating has been a problem today.  I seem to have a hunger that nothing can satisfy. 

Sadness makes you react in  strange ways.  Even when you try to avoid it, it creeps up on you and attacks. 

My grief is alive today.  Always, but today it is strong.  His memory seems to be alive and so I would like to dedicate this to him.

We will love you always.


DRIFTERS

Drifters are those people that are not rooted to life.  They are the people who drift through the lives of others, offering something of value, and then disappearing from your life just as quickly and unexpectedly as they came.

I knew a drifter once.  To realize one has been in your life is a gift. 

I met Brian when I was 17.  We started dating six months later.  A year after, we were expecting.  With Brain came his family, as anyone who is married knows.

Enter my drifter.

He was harsh.  He was blunt.  He held a grudge.  He was a rough man who had taken on the world and lived to tell about it.  He was Brian's father.

We didn't always see eye to eye.  In fact, there were times I was not welcome in his home. 

There were times when we got along famously.  He had years of experience and wisdom to share, but was only willing if he knew you were listening, not just hearing. 

He was 55 when he died. 

I knew him for seven years.  We fought.  We argued.  We laughed until we cried.  We became family.  He helped me raise a little lady.  He helped me grow up. 

I loved him.

I always will.

R.I.P.  William Atkins
June 23, 1956 to February 23, 2011