#dailystruggle

Life is a daily struggle. We all have been there in some way or another. Life is hard. End of story.

But it is time for me to be honest about a few things. I don't really talk about it with many people. Really, I've only spoken of it with one, maybe two people, I think. It's a realization that has been hard to come to over the years and one that is even harder to admit to the world. Even if its the little world of the two people who actually read this.

I started this blog months ago when I started on a journey of 101 days of no TV. I did so in hopes of finding myself, of coming out the other end of the 101 days with a renewed vision of who I was, what I wanted in life, and a motivation to go after it. I tried. I really did. And I don't regret those 101 days. I did learn a lot.

I learned that I cannot do it alone. I learned that I get bored easily, and when I get bored, I eat. Or shop. I learned that I struggle to finish things that were started with the best of intentions. I learned that I love my family dearly, more than anything else in this world. I also learned that old habits die hard.

The day after my challenge ended, I spent nearly the entire day watching Netflix--namely, Doctor Who. This was the exact sort of behavior that was the reason I started the challenge in the first place and yet, after so much time trying to combat it, I slid right back into the old  habits.

For years, my self-esteem sunk lower and lower because of my pre-conceived notions about what a person was supposed to be like. Work hard. Eat right. Exercise daily. Go out with friends. Meet a special someone. Marry them and have babies. Pursue your dream without ceasing. Go to church every Sunday and be glad and happy to do all of the above.

Spoiler: That is not who I am.

I struggle with motivation--to start things, and then to complete them once started. So I was told I'm lazy. I struggle with eating right and exercising so I'm told I'm an unattractive fat girl. I don't always want to go out. Sometimes I want to be home alone in my sweats watching "Friends". So I'm told I'm an antisocial freak who needs to "get out more and see the sun". I haven't met that "special someone" nor do I go on dates, so I'm told I'm going to be an old maid and a crazy cat lady, which is bad and pretty sad. I have dreams, but I pursue them in my own way, at my own pace and, often times, struggle with my own inadequacy and a fear of rejection to the point of freezing and not doing anything at all. So I'm told I'm not good enough or that I'm not enough of a "go-getter". I don't go to church every Sunday because most days I don't want to get out of bed at all. I sleep a lot. So I'm told I'm a lazy heathen.

Do you get the idea?

For so long, I thought I was the only one who felt this way. That I was the only one who was like this, and it meant I was a freak who must fight against every instinct I have to fit in and be like everyone else.

Let me tell you something. That doesn't work.

People say all kinds of things they think are helpful. Buck up. Deal with it. Fake it until you make it. Maybe you don't want it hard enough. Don't be lazy. Get over it.

Let me tell you something. That doesn't work either.

Do you tell someone with a broken leg to buck up, deal with it, and go run a few miles? Fake it until you make it, boy, it's just a broken leg!

No, you don't. For the same reason, you can't tell someone with depression and anxiety to buck up and deal with it. You just don't want it enough, girl. Try harder. Get over it. 

You know, it's really difficult to try harder when there is a brick wall in front of you, twenty feet high, and you're supposed to just keep walking as if it isn't there. Like it isn't looming over you, constantly reminding you of your shortcomings, your failures. Telling you everything that could possibly go wrong. Taking away your motivation and your ability to see the silver lining of the dark cloud hanging over your head.

That was a lot of metaphor, and I apologize. But its a difficult thing to describe, dealing with depression. Everyone's depression is different just like every person is different. It's a silent ailment that most people never see because it is socially "wrong" to be depressed. Its depressing when someone struggles with depression.

No one understands when you can't get out of bed in the morning, or why you don't want to go out and get out of the house. There are days that I just can't deal with people. (It's really too bad I work in customer service!) There are days I just don't feel like getting dressed. There are also days I feel motivated and awesome and like I can take on the world. But those moods are delicate and sometimes fairly fleeting.

Some people will say that I am crazy. That I am using the label of depression to misplace the blame of my own lack-luster life.

Others will say they understand. They'll say they've been there or they are are, and that I am not alone.

Some won't say anything. They'll read this and silently judge me one way or another and never say anything to me about what they think of me.

But I just want to say a few things-

It was extremely hard to write this. As I write this, I am debating whether or not to even post it. It took a lot to write it, and it'll take a lot more to post it online.

I struggle with depression. I struggle with anxiety. They do no define me, but they are still a large part of my life and who I am. I have to come to terms with that and I am still learning how to deal with it. It's a daily struggle and one I don't always win.

Today I didn't get out bed until noon.

But I took a shower. I got dressed. I wrote this blog post.

I spent the afternoon on the couch watching Netflix on my vacation.

You win some, you lose some. It's a daily struggle. Sometimes a minute-by-minute struggle. Its a struggle I cannot take on alone, and one I am tired of being silent about.

So that's it. Take it or leave it.

Day 101

Exactly 101 days ago, I decided to go without TV. The decision came with some rules, of course. It would not be a permanent change. I would still be allowed one movie a week, with exceptions for special occasions (a "special occasion" defined as a social interaction of some sort with other people. "People" defined as someone other than my cat).

Now, 101 days later, it is about to come to an end. I have to say, I have mixed feelings about it. Part of me is a little sad that it is over. It was kind of fun, challenging myself to find new things to do every day with my spare time.

For about three weeks I had it in my head that I had to use the time to clean more. I am not a neat-and-tidy type person. I am an organized mess type of person.

Granted, I try to clean up when company is coming. This usually results in a five minute cleaning freak-out moment where I am frantically running around the house throwing away trash and tossing clothes into my closet. And then tossing anything else laying around without a place into the closet as well. Then closing the closet door. As if my mother really believes I keep the house that tidy all the time....relatively.

But for the first three weeks, if I didn't do the housework, I would feel guilty about being "unproductive" with my time.

This lasted, as I said, for about three weeks, at which point I realized I am not that sort of person. I do like it when the house is clean, but if it is a little messy, or the laundry hasn't been done in a few weeks, I am not going to stress out about it. Mostly, first off, because I live alone. It doesn't affect anyone but me. And the cat doesn't give two shakes if I do the dishes or not. Secondly, because I like a house that looks a little lived in. I know, I know, there is a difference between "lived in" and "pigsty".

But that is not the point. My point was that I stopped feeling guilty about not being a cleaner. My mom is a cleaner. My sister is a cleaner. I am not. It is just who I am. #sorrynotsorry.

This was a good realization, however. I wanted to spend the 101 days doing things for me—doing things that made me happy. Finding myself. I found I don't like to clean. Yes, Mom, I do still clean the house. But I can go to bed with a sink-full of dishes and not lose any sleep over it. Not that this is any news to you.

 I had this grand idea, starting out, that I would go out all the time. Go out on the weekends all the time, hang with friends, make new ones, and maybe even get a date or two. Hey, I had 101 days—anything could happen, right?

I soon realized I am not an extroverted person. My sister is an extrovert. My mom is an extrovert. I am not.

Yes, Mom, I still hang out with my friends. Yes, I leave the house and "see the sun" on the weekends. Just because I didn't text you back, doesn't mean I'm dead or depressed. It means I am an introvert who wanted to spend a day in solitude. Sometimes the solitude includes my cat. Sometimes it includes the trees at the park, or shelves of books at the library.

It took about another week to realize this—not being a cleaner or an extrovert— is not a bad thing. It is just who I am.

That being said, I still did quite a bit, in my opinion, over the 101 days. I didn't go skydiving or see the ocean or even go on a date. But I did do things—a lot of them small things—that made me happy. Let me give you some of the highlights:

I –

            hung out with my dad, just me and him

            hung out with my mom, just me and her

            spent time with my nephews

            spent time with the whole gang

            spent time with the extended family

            spent time with my best friends

            celebrated my 25th birthday

            celebrated my friend's new house

            celebrated my other friend's wedding

            celebrated Friday

            painted and sketched

            went on long walks

            read over a dozen books (I didn't actually keep count)

            wrote the beginning of about a hundred different stories

            deleted the beginning of about a hundred different stories

            wrote poetry

            finished a novel

            prepared to write a sequel to said finished novel

            explored my love of music

            discovered I write best to film scores

            re-discovered my love of dancing

            explored my talents in cooking

            discovered I am not a great cook

            discovered I do like zucchini

            went to Nebraska alone for a weekend (wedding)

            saw old friends

            met a few new ones

            dieted

            stopped dieting

            dieted again

            hung curtains

            got dad's help hanging curtains...

            went to a play

            worked on crocheting a blanket

            abandoned crocheting a blanket....

            sewed my costume for Renaissance Festival

            Got lost going to the Renaissance Festival....

            spent a day as a pirate with my friend, the gypsy

            decided I want to do a 5k...eventually

            submitted a story to a publisher

            got rejected by a publisher

            submitted a few poems to a literary journal

            got rejected by a literary journal

            applied for dream job

            got rejected by dream job

            applied for a part-time second job

            received part-time second job offer

            decided I did not need a second job

            declined job offer

            did the dishes

            scrubbed the bathtub

            had a laundry marathon

            changed my first diaper

            changed my second, third, fourth and fifth diapers....

            gave up soda

            started drinking soda again....

            cut back on soda....

            got too much sleep

            didn't get enough sleep

            drank A LOT of tea

            had the first cup of hot chocolate of the year

            hung shelves and pictures (with help)

            mowed the lawn

            was blessed when someone else mowed my lawn....

            was blessed again when someone swept my front walk clear of leaves

            had brakes replaced in the car

            got a flat tire on the way to work

            got two new tires

           

I could probably go on for quite a bit longer, even, but you I think you get the idea. There are some big things on that list. But there are also quite a bit of not so big things. There are good ones, and bad ones, sad and happy days. There are things I wish I had done, and things I wish I hadn't...or wish I could've avoided.

But that is life. I spent so much time on the couch, in front of my TV, I forgot to live life—forgot how to live life! If nothing else, I am glad I did this challenge for that fact alone—I found my life again. It's not perfect. It's not everything I wish it was, but it is mine, and I need to live it instead of mope through it.

I struggle with depression. I struggle with a lot of things. I also struggle to find the right word for a poem or a sentence in a novel. I struggle with finances. I also struggle to read for hours without getting a backache. I struggle with a caffeine problem. I also struggle to hang things straight. I struggle with my weight. I also struggle with directions and doing the dishes.

But not everything in my life is a struggle. Not everything in my life is a failure—and not all failures are bad.

It took 101 days to realize that these things are not bad things. They do not mean I am a failure anymore than they mean I am a success. It just means I am me. It took me 101 days to figure out how to be happy with that.

I am still a work in progress. Before I said there were things I wish I had done in the last 101 days, and I meant it. I also meant it when I said I was sad it was ending. To be fair, I will be glad to be able to watch TV again, and I will probably have a Doctor Who marathon tomorrow, just to be honest.

But I want to keep challenging myself. I want to keep pushing myself to do better—to be a better version of me.

November 1st marks the beginning of National Novel Writing Month or, as it's known, NaNoWriMo. The challenge is to write a novel, 40,000 words, during the month of November. I did it last year, and while I wrote the required number of words, I did not actually finish the novel.

This year, that is my goal. I am going to write the sequel to the novel I just finished, a fantasy story about four or five people who are given unique abilities to control the elements. The novel I just finished was about Miressa, who can control nature. The sequel is about Violet, who controls water. I am actually really excited about it!

That is my new challenge for the month of November—write, to its completion, my new novel. After that is done, I will find a new challenge. Maybe I'll work on that 5k I want to do.... or maybe I'll find something else. Who knows. I just know I want to keep challenging myself.

It also means I will continue to post updates on my newest challenges and how I am doing here on this blog. I realize the blog's title is about my 101 days of no TV, but I think that can be overlooked. The challenge of finding myself and becoming better is an ever-evolving challenge in itself, right?

Thank you to everyone who has followed along with me during the last 101 days, and who have supported me in various ways, be it encouragement or prayer or whatever else. I appreciate it so much!

Now I challenge you—whoever may be still reading this—to challenge yourself. It doesn't have to be for 101 days like mine was, or even for a month. It could be a small week-long challenge, or day-long. Find something—something that makes you happy, makes you better. You will be glad you did. I promise.  

Day Forty-Four through Sixty-Six.

 Today is Day 66 of my 101-day challenge of no TV. I've spent the last several weeks doing nothing much in particular, a fact I realize is the opposite of my purpose for this whole thing in the first place. A few of the highlights, however, include babysitting my nephews with my dad, finishing a spectacular book (reading not writing, unfortunately), going to the Flint Hills Shakespeare Festival with my best friend (fantastic, by the way) and, today, going to the Renaissance Festival with my other best friend. That may seem like a significant list, but keep in mind how long it's been since my last post... (23 days to be exact). Oh, and I bought the new Cinderella movie and Pitch Perfect 2.... (spaced enough that I could watch each movie in a separate week and not break my own rule).

My life is not spectacular. If it were to be measured on a scale, I'd say its somewhere between mundane and almost-interesting. But it has its highlights, even if they are small ones, and I find I am content, despite everything. Everything being financial issues, lack of social life, and a tendency to lurk at home alone.

Today, however, happened to be one of those rare spectacular days. Today was my trip to KC to the annual Ren-Fest with my dear friend and old college roommate Lori. We haven't seen each other in months, and so it was a blast to get together again and talk Doctor Who and sci-fi novels. We were up after 3 AM chatting because we had so much to catch up on, and we are both talkative people! This bit us in the butt, however, as we had to get up at 7 the next morning to get ready for the festival.

But it was so worth it. Lori went as a gypsy, complete with jingling scarf, gold bangles, and a long, brunette wig! She brought temporary tattoos that we both used, and did a whole elaborate eye makeup thing with swirls and stuff that was pretty cool.

I was a pirate—and a darn good one, if I do say so myself! I sewed my skirt from a sheet, along with a couple of coin purses for both of us from some goodwill fabric. I got a plain costume pirate hat from Target and, with Mom's help and craft supplies, decorated it with lace and buttons and pearls. I even had a sword—though it was plastic and only cost me two bucks. I felt so sassy.

We had so much fun, actually, getting ready, that we ended up being an hour behind schedule. We weren't too worried about it, however, and left the house around 9:30-ish, and proceeded to McDonalds for a coffee run. We both needed it.

The drive-thru had a seriously long line, so we opted to go inside. Mind you, we are still all gussied up in our costumes, waltzing into McDonalds full of people. We got some looks, open gawking, and the shy glances. Only one person actually asked us why we were dressed up, and we gladly told them. After a minor issue with the frappe machine, we got our coffee and got on the road!

I am not good with directions. So Friday night, I had Google-map'd the way to get to this place and wrote it down so I could find it as I was the one doing the driving. But, of course, I forgot the directions on the table. So I did my best to remember them.

It really wasn't hard. It shouldn't have been hard. But, as in inevitable I think with me and navigation, we got a little lost. Luckily for us, modern technology is amazing and we turned on the GPS.

We had apparently gone nearly a half hour out of our way by accident. So we took another half hour getting back on track. It turns out, I took a wrong exit off of the interstate. Oops. #mybad. But we found it...eventually.... Then we trekked across a large parking lot, praying we could find the car again later, and waited in line for tickets under the hot sun with no shade. That was fun. Not.

Once we finally inside the gates, however, there were a lot more trees and shaded areas, and even a stray breeze or two. We walked all over the place, looking at vendors, watching shows, and the food—Oh! The food! I have four words for you: cheesecake on a stick.

My gypsy friend and I taking a break for some fish and chips. 

There was jousting and fire-dancing gypsies, and satyrs running around, and knife throwing and fencing and so much more! It was marvelous to just walk around and soak in all the geekdom. (Not to offend, but this is really how I felt, surrounded by it all.)

Eventually, however, we started to wear down. We bought a trinket—a necklace--and proceeded to try to find our exit. But, as I mentioned before, I am navigationally challenged and we had misplaced our map.... Not to mention we did not arrive by the main gate, which would have been a much more obvious landmark...

So we wandered around for a half hour trying to find our way back to the side entrance we came in. I'm sure we looked rather silly—as silly as a lost pirate and gypsy can look, I suppose—standing in the middle of the path, scratching our heads and pointing in various directions. Is that the way? Maybe try going up here. No, but his looks familiar, remember, we came down—

And so on and so forth. And, by this point, I had to go to the bathroom.

Do you know how hard it is to go to the bathroom in a small little stall with all those layers and accessories dangling from my belt? Yeah. Not easy. Just saying.

Alas! We finally found it! Then we stood there in the parking lot, scratching our heads and pointing in various directions.... Was the car this way? Or maybe up there? No, but remember we came down this way---

and so on and so forth....

When we did eventually reach the car, I immediately popped the trunk and started disassembling my pirate outfit. Lori took off her hair, I undid my belt and slipped out of my skirt... Don't worry, we were wearing pants underneath! Then we sat in the air conditioned car, exhausted and deliriously happy.

My life may not always be exciting. I don't go out every weekend or hang with a bunch of friends all the time. I post a lot of stuff about my cat on social media because, honestly, that's who I'm with a lot. But when I do step outside my box, I make unforgettable memories!

I cannot wait to do it all again next year. Lori has already agreed that we need to make it an annual occurrence! (I love having nerd friends.) But, maybe next year we won't get lost so much... Or maybe we will. Sometimes you need to get a little lost to find the good stories.

Day Thirty through Forty-Three

There are bad days. You know them well, I imagine. Everything seems to go wrong that day; you make stupid mistakes. Today was that day for me.

It's Day Forty-Three of my 101 Day Challenge, and I have never wanted to give in more than I did today. By the way—I didn't.

You know the feeling, when you  have a long, bad day and you just need to give in to those old comforts—those probably-not-so-good-but-definitely-better-than-some-things pleasures? Food. Caffeine. Shopping. Wine. TV...to name a few of mine.

Usually when I've had a particularly trying day at work, I like to relax on the sofa, eat some junk food (hamburger, chips, ice cream, and a soda are my favorites, but any food that is quick and junky will do, really) and chill in front of Netflix or whatever is on for a while. Or I'll end up on the Mall on my way home from work (its conveniently right there on my route....) and end up buying fifty-bucks worth of stuff—excuse me, "clothes for work"—from Maurice's or wherever else.  Fifty bucks, I might add, that I don't have.

Most days, lately, I'll get a 32 oz Mountain Dew from the gas station over my lunch break and sip on a soda all afternoon. It helps me get through the rest of my day. Or so I tell myself. Well, last night I did my budget...and I realized that if I was going to really save money for these things I want to do in the next few months (Renaissance Festival, a wedding, and a concert, in September, October, and November respectively) I was going to have to cut my spending habit. This, unfortunately includes the dollar a day I spend on a soda.

A dollar a day adds up to $30 in a month. That could buy the tank of gas to get me to Nebraska for my friend's wedding. Or most of a ticket to the concert in Topeka I want to see. If I stop eating out at lunch—make it maybe $5 a day on the low end, so that's $25 a week and $100 a month! –I cut out even more. NOW eliminate all my impromptu tiny shopping trips—let's say $30 a week, to be kind—that is freeing up A LOT of money! In a month, adding all that up, it equals to $250 I could be saving EACH MONTH by cutting needless spending.

This is what I realized last night. So I told myself I was going to cut soda from my afternoon habit. Drink more water instead—it really is better for me. I was going to cut down on my shopping, telling myself every time I want to that I can be using the money for something better, giving it a specific purpose. Crystal's wedding. KC trip. Casting Crowns concert. Maybe it will help me stop spending it. Maybe I'll actually be able to use it to go toward bills and save a little instead of continually pulling money OUT of my savings account... Not exactly the direction it is supposed to go. Maybe this time it will stick.

So today, when I woke up, I determined not to buy a soda over lunch.

Then the Day from Hell swept through.

Really, it was no one's fault but mine. I am not too proud to admit that. The mistakes that were made and the stuff that happened could have been prevented had I been... let's say running better. My brain was on vacation today. Simple as that. It was mostly things of my own doing. But it didn't make it any better. If anything, it made the entire thing more frustrating.

But, during work, I did my utmost to try to remain calm and level-headed and maintain a professional demeanor and attitude and set a good example for those I am working with—both younger than me and currently being trained. I tried really hard not to lose it.

Then I got off work, and someone cut me off in traffic, and I lost it. I screamed. I nearly cried. I wanted to scream some more. I didn't cuss, though honestly, I probably would've if I'd thought about it.

I was frustrated. Not because my brain was absent and I couldn't think straight. Not because my coworkers were getting on my nerves. Not because I got off a half hour later than I really wanted to—although all those things were true.

No, I was frustrated because all of my usual "comforts" that I would turn to after a distressing day were off-limits.

Food—I'm trying to lose weight. I stared at the fridge, fully intending to eat junk. I really did. But I wasn't hungry. I really wasn't. (Big step for me!)

Soda—As previously stated, I was giving up soda. I had JUST started that morning, and I would feel really silly if I couldn't even do it for a single day. I mean really, how weak-willed am I? Besides, you know, the whole budget/money thing...

Shopping—On a budget....

Glass of wine—When I say a glass of wine, I mean like half a glass of white wine. But I do not currently have any wine, or any alcohol of any sort, in my house or possession and buying some would, of course, be breaking the whole "on a budget" thing...

TV—Hello. Obviously, I am on a TV Cleanse. Next Thursday marks 50 days—almost halfway done! I can't give in now after coming so far! So, no TV either...

So what was a girl to do? All my usual go-to's were out of order and had yet to be replaced by newer, "healthier" options. 

I had texted my good awesome friend Lori about my distress—bad day. want to cry and scream at the same time. blah blah blah. By the time she gets back to me, I am in my bed, not in the mood to talk to anyone. Not even my cat (who, I believe, was hiding in the closet for dear life, away from Scary Megan). She messaged me. She called me. I ignored it. I didn't feel like dealing with the world. I needed a break from "adulting".

I ended up playing a game on my computer. It helped me zone out and focus on something mindless without breaking my no-TV rule and it kept me away from the fridge and too occupied to give in to go get a soda. It helped me chill out and wind down. I put on some soothing classical music in the background (I had been listening to rock music at work....) and tried to relax...

It totally worked. Granted, I was snuggled in my bed, in m pajamas ignoring the world at the early hour of five o'clock, but whatever you gotta do, right?

It worked fast, too. By 6:30, I had moved into the living room and was on the phone with Lori, talking about life and actually enjoying interacting with the world. I ate a little something, and started working on a story, then I realized it'd been ages since I'd posted an update... and here I am.

Oh, and there may have been some Facebook/Instragram/Twitter posts in there somewhere... and there may have been pictures of my cat.... Along with a scripture verse that was helping me " "count my blessings before my sorrows" (I am quoting myself here, obviously not scripture. This is a line from one of my stories, but it applies nicely.)

So what do you do when you've had an awful day with a side of horrible and you've conveniently cut out those go-to comforts—a feeling I can only compare to finding out your savings account has been drained when are having an emergency. There is no fall-back. No cushion to soften the blow. No guilty pleasure to give in to shamelessly. So what do you do?

Well, first I turned to my bed. Then to distractions (i.e. games and social media). Then to a friend. Then, lastly, I turned to God.

This, I want to point out, is backwards. Really, what I should've started with was going to God with my problems. Prayer. Scripture. Etc. When I finally did, it gave me so much comfort and perspective, I wish I'd done it when I'd gotten home and not hours later.

You live and you learn. Now I've learned and so have you—guilty by association—and so, hopefully, I won't be making the same mistake again. Maybe next time I'll start out the day with God and it won't get that horrible to begin with. Maybe....

So what do you do after a terrible, awful, horrible, no-good day?

Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. (Philippians 4:8 NIV)

Count your blessings before your sorrows. 

1. I am alive. 

2. I have a roof over my head. 

3. I have a good job. 

4. I have amazing friends. 

5. I have an awesome cat who loves me. 

6. I can pay my bills--even if it doesn't always feel that way. 

7. There is food in my fridge (and my belly). 

8. I have a warm place to sleep at night. 

9. I have nice clothes to wear every day. 

10. I know that God loves me and cares about me--

even my seemingly small, silly problems. 

(etc)

Day Twenty-Five through Twenty-Nine

Apparently I am not very good at trying new things. If you've been following along, my goal this week was to try new things in small ways. That, unfortunately did not really happen.

Here's what did happen:

Day 25 : Trip to bookstore (with purchase) and then side trip to Maurices (with purchase). I DID try on some printed shorts I never would normally try on, and though they looked alright with the outfit, they didn't look alright on me. So the purchase was not the pants. It was actually a crop jacket.

Day 26: Told myself I was going to clean. I didn't clean. I wrote instead.

Day 27:  Told myself I was going to clean. I didn't clean. Also told myself I was going to actually cook something for dinner. I just had tacos—which, by the way, does not count. Instead, I took a trip to a different bookstore (no purchase) and picked up my pottery piece from my birthday (no purchase necessary). Then I went home and did some writing.

Day 28: Met up with Mom and my sister to do some grocery shopping (with purchase, obviously). Played with my nephew afterwards on their deck and found a little frog, which he thought was just the coolest thing ever. Went home, put away groceries. Did some cleaning (finally!) and I actually did the dishes!! I did not cook, however, like intended, and ate leftovers instead. Then I did some more writing.

Day 29: Went to Tuesday Mornings and bought a toilet brush (the fancy kind in the silver holders). Told myself I was going to go to Dillon's to get milk. I did not. Instead, I went home and wrote this blog post...after wasting time doing absolutely nothing for about an hour. And making nachos.

I will say, however, about this week that I have had a different music station on every night. Some of my station choices included cool jazz, 80s hits, Celtic music, and 90s country. I enjoyed them all. Currently, I am music-less. Mostly because I am being too lazy to reach two feet for the remote and turn it on. Pathetic, isn't it?

I simply have no motivation today. It's been a long week at work and yesterday I was pretty productive (I mean, I folded the towels that have been in my rocking chair for a week and did the dishes. Productive!) and today I am just...not. Right now, all I want to do is go curl up in my bed and go to sleep. I am resisting, however, as it is only six pm, and it would feel rather silly.

I thought I would come home and be all "wow, I can't wait to work on my story!" But when I opened the documents (yes, plural) I just stared at it, the stupid blinking cursor mocking me.

Then I thought, "Oh, I'll read a book! I only have like a million that are lying around waiting to be read. I'll do that instead!" I proceeded to stare at the cover of a book, not interested enough to actually crack the spine...

This is one of those nights when I would normally turn on Netflix and mindlessly watch episode after episode of whatever show I happened to be interested in that week (or day or hour. It constantly changes) until it was 10 PM (or even 9) and I would crawl into bed, thinking how uneventful my life was.

Likewise, tonight is a struggle against the lazy unmotivated-ness. I told myself "Its a beautiful day, you should go for a walk!" Then I got home and suddenly wanted to absolutely nothing. Literally. I don't want to write. I don't want to read. I don't want music. I don't want to move. I don't want to think. I don't even want to keep my eyes open. Without a TV to distract me and lull me into a vegetative state for the next three to four hours, I have no clue what to actually do.

I mean, I know what I could be doing. There are many—MANY—things I could be doing. Crochet that blanket I started last Winter. Write one of three stories I have going. Start a new story. Sketch. Go for a walk. Clean my house (Pick a room! They're all dirty!) Dance to some music. Cook dinner. Make my lunch for tomorrow. Fold more laundry. Take the laundry out of the dryer.

Et cetera....

But even as I write out the list of everything, each item I think "Nope. No thank you. Next. I'm not in the mood. I don't have the energy for that. I've got no inspiration."

It's terrible really, this Monster of Un-Motivation that is sitting on my chest. Even food is uninteresting to me right now. I stare at my fridge at the fruit and vegetables and whatever else I got at the store yesterday and think "I don't want that."

You know it's bad when I don't even want to eat!

I am trying to think of a clever way to tie this up, to bring it around to a point, a lesson I've learned, or something...but I can't seem to find it. The words are caught in the back of my mind, as un-motivated as the rest of me.

I guess this week is just the Quarterly Slump (being over 1/4 of the way through my challenge). I don't even want to think about the mid-challenge crisis that is likely on the horizon... Stay tuned around Day 50 (September 10th) and the week following to find out!

That's all for now folks... My fingers don't feel like typing anymore.... 

Day Twenty-Two through Twenty-Four

There hasn't been a terrible amount of excitement since the spider-slaying incident. Mostly, it's been a lot of writing and sleeping and working. Not necessarily in that order, mind you.

I am the kind of person who usually needs background noise going—I get this from my mother. It doesn't have to be anything particular, but if I'm wanting to actually get something done, it can't be anything distracting enough that will make me want to stop what I'm trying to do to give it my full attention. Usually I turn on the TV to something either I have no real interest in watching or that I've seen a hundred times. Disney movies tend to work well for this, or the the show Friends. 

Being on my no TV kick, however, sort of takes away these as an option. So, option #2: music. Sometimes it is KLOVE Radio, other times I flip on Pandora and rock out to "Adele radio" (which includes way more than just Adele, by the way). Lately, however, I've been stretching my musical ear to other types to which I may not normally listen.

I'm trying to do this with all areas of my life, actually. I spent twenty minutes in the non-fiction section at the library (which is a big deal, if you know me at all). I try on new styles of clothes at the store or, if I'm feeling broke, pair up the clothes I already own in new ways. I try to cook new things every so often, or go to a restaurant I haven't been to in a while or I've always wanted to try. It's not a constant thing, but I do try to pepper in these experiences every so often. I mean, it was kind of the whole purpose of this challenge, right? Getting me to expand my horizons?

But, I thought, what if I don't want to go anywhere, but I still need a change from my routine? Because, let's face it, it has become a routine.

They say it takes 21 days or so to make a new habit, and, as I'm on day twenty-four, I would say I've made new habits. I come home, I check the mail, I greet Melvin. I turn on some music. I open my laptop. I work on some writing. Or I open a book and read for several hours. Sometimes both, although not, of course, at the same time. That has become my routine.

There is nothing wrong with this routine. I like it. I like that I can sit down and write and not feel obligated to make it perfect or spectacular or even good. I can just write—get out my creative energy. This is a good thing. Reading goes along the same lines. I become a better writer the more I read—and the more I stretch myself with both of these things the better I become at both.

But sometimes, I need a small change. The same show with a different theme song. It's refreshing, gets me to focus more, see things from a different perspective. That's kind of a deep way of saying I wanted to listen to something else.

It started with my Sunday Night Movie. It was the day after my birthday (woo-hoo!) and I was cruising Netflix... I shouldn't have been, but I let my curiosity get the better of me.

It's just for a movie, I told myself. It doesn't really count as watching TV if I'm just looking. Like window shopping. It's okay as long as I'm not spending money. Right?

I was SO close to pressing play on the first episode of Doctor Who Season 8. So. Very. Close. I had my finger on the button, staring at the little square preview of the episode, trying to simultaneously talk myself in and out of watching it.

It's like an hour, twenty minutes. It'd be like watching a movie. I'm allowed a movie a week. I could use it as my movie...

But then you'll want to watch the next episode too, which would be breaking the rules. Watching episode one is bending the rules as it is... you really shouldn't do it.

But it'd just be once. Really. I can control myself! Just one little episode.... It'll be okay. No one will know!!

I will know. It's cheating. You're not a cheater. Get your finger off that button and watch something else. Control yourself, woman! It's just a show! It'll still be there on November 1st for you to watch then!

Yeah, I know...you're right...

This was the conversation I had with myself. In the end, I did not give in and I pressed "back" instead of "play" and watched an actual movie instead. Bride and Prejudice to be exact.

This got me going on the "expanding my musical horizons" kick. If you don't know, Bride and Prejudice is a bollywood-esque version of the Jane Austen novel of similar title (Pride, not Bride, obviously). I've seen it before, years ago, and genuinely enjoyed it. It was recently added to Netflix, and so I compromised for a night of romance and bollywood musical talent. I'm so glad I did. The movie is truly a wonderful one, if you ask me, and when it was over, I didn't want it to end!

So I flipped to Pandora and searched "Bollywood". I spent the next several hours listening to the station I found while working on a new story. No, it has nothing to do with Bollywood or Pride and Prejudice or anything. It actually is a high school story. In case you wanted to know...

But the point is, I enjoyed it. I loved listening to something new. It was refreshing; it gave me new inspiration and pushed me to try new things in other parts of my life. The new story is actually told from multiple points of view, a writing style I haven't actively tried before. It will be interesting to see how it comes along... I also don't usually write about high school-age, but focus more on young adult/college age.

Anyway. My point—I'm trying new things in small ways. A step in the right direction. I am currently rocking out to "traditional folk music" which includes a lot of old songs like "You are my Sunshine" and some awesome guitar-only songs I love.

My favorite so far has been "Train in the Rain" by some guy whose last name is Cockburn (an unfortunate name, I grant you). It was amazing how he captured the sound of a train with his music. I was sitting on the couch with my eyes closed, picturing a train click-clacking down the tracks, a hobo sitting in one of the open cars, legs hanging off the edge while strumming a guitar, singing about life and pain and the rain. It was a wonderful moment for me. Inspiring even.

I want to keep up my streak. I want to keep trying new things in small ways, like music choice or what I eat for dinner. Or where I eat dinner. Maybe one of these days I'll have a little picnic in the park for one. Bring along a book or journal. Maybe I'll go for a walk, or try to meet up with a friend I haven't seen in a while. I don't know yet. But I think that's going to be my focus this next week. Small ways to try new things.

I'd love your input with this. I know ya'll are reading—at least a few of you! Comment either here on blogger or Facebook or wherever with your ideas—be they about music or anything else you think I should try! Maybe you want to take me up on the offer of meeting with an old friend. Maybe you just think I'd really love a certain musician. Share with me what you love, and what you think I should try and might love as well! And...GO!

(But seriously. I want your input.) 

Day Eighteen through Twenty-One

The dragon is dead! This was the chant in my head this morning as I carefully poked my head out my front door and looked around my front porch. If you follow my statuses (or is it supposed to be like octopus - octopi? stati?) on Facebook at all the past few days you will know exactly what I am talking about.

The last few days, a giant spider has been living on my porch. It set up camp between my mail box and the pole, which happens to be right next to the door, and, particularly, the doorknob.

The first day I saw it I may have yelped in fear and shock. I really hadn't been expecting to walk out my front door at 6 am and be face to face with a giant, beige spider. There was definitely yelping... Then I silently prayed and hoped and wished that it would be gone by the time I had to be home later that afternoon.

That day I happened to have a half-day at work, so I got home around 1 pm and--behold!--no spider! Upon looking around, I realized my landlord had been there--the trimming was done and the weeds pulled from the rocks in my front garden. He had also dropped a copy of the lease off--long story--for me and must've seen the thing. It's hard to miss, really. I was just thankful he got rid of it.

Or so I thought.... Alas, the following morning, the guy was back. I stood as far back as I possibly could to lock the door and darted for my car! The ugly guy was squatting right in the middle of the web, bouncing and wiggling and freaking me out! So I ran.

I thought about it all day at work--the spider I had to face upon coming home. I dreaded it. It made my skin crawl. (If you haven't figured this out, I am incredibly scared of spiders.) So I made a trip to Menards and bought a can of Raid (well, the eco-friendly, kid-friendly, pet-friendly kind. It was the only one that specifically said spiders).

When I got home, I stood several feet back and sprayed the whole dang can all over my porch, concentrating on the area where Mr. Spider had set up his home. Then I walked around my house to the back door, grabbed the broom that I knew was there, and came back to the front door, armed and ready. Just in case.

I swatted at a few smaller spiders, and swept some cicada carcasses off the porch, but there was no sign of Mr. Spider.... Then I saw him, crawling around the numbers on the side of my house, hiding behind the 2. I swatted at him with the broom, but he was out of reach. I couldn't get to him.

Eventually I couldn't see him so I hurried inside. I waited, looking out the window in my door to see if I could see him crawling around or trying to build a new web. I couldnt' see anything. So I got out the Ortho-max.

I have two front doors--a screen door and a regular door, both with windows. I opened the regular door and peered around again, then cracked open the screen door, just wide enough for my arm to stretch through and spray the Ortho around my porch-- again, concentrated where I'd last seen Mr. Spider. Then I grabbed the broom. I checked the handle to make sure nothing had crawled onto it since I'd last had it--getting super paranoid at this point--and swatted around the porch some more. But he was still there, crawling along the roof of my porch stoop, alive and well. I wanted to scream in frustration.

"The little devil just won't die!" I exclaimed. Melvin looked at me funny after that one.

So next, I ran to the bathroom and grabbed the hairspray. It was a little stunned from the ortho, so I was able to spray it with the hairspray pretty accurately, hoping it would at least slow him down or suffocate him or something. He just wiggled a little and then tried to hide.

Paranoid, frustrated, and freaking out, I stomped into the bedroom. This was war. So I had to get battle ready!

I had been wearing the dress I'd worn to work and sandals. But that, of course, would never do when battling dragons--er, I mean, spiders. So I donned my armor accordingly.

I put on black leggings (tight, so nothing can crawl up my pant leg) and black socks, pulled up on the outside of the leggings (again, so nothing can crawl inside). Then I put on my best spider-smashing shoes.

But I wasn't done yet. My dress was sleeveless, and I realized that something could still fall onto my shoulder or crawl up my arm. So I pulled out a long-sleeve shirt from the winter-section of my closet (it was pink, in case you needed to know) and put it on as well, pulling my pretty purple-and-yellow-satin-flowered dress over the top of all of it. THEN I dug out my winter gloves from my coat--black leather--which were at the bottom of a pile of jackets in a box. I put up my hair in a bun and grabbed the swiffer and I was ready to rumble!

You should've seen me in my war gear! It was quite a sight to behold! I was completely ridiculous, but at the time, I didn't want to take any chances! If I was going to battle a spider, I wanted to be prepared for anything! Every good warrior must be properly attired and armed for battle! Duh!

So, with a swiffer in one hand, a broom in the other, and can of hairspray on the table behind me, I cracked open the screen door one more time....

BAM BAM SMOOOOooosh. Got him! *victory squeal followed by a squeal of disgust*

Mr. Spider curled up (dead, I hoped) in a little hole on top of the pole, and I swept him away with the broom and onto the cement steps. I didn't actually see if he was dead or if he crawled away.... I reeeaaally hoped for dead. I set the swiffer aside, no longer needing it's skills, and brought out the broom.

Glancing up and down the street to see if anyone was around that would see me, I stepped onto the porch--cautiously, of course--in my war gear and swept off my front porch and steps, keeping an eye out for spider carcasses or other bugs and pests that I might need to kill. All clear. No sign of anything. With a clean, clear, and spider-free front porch, I was finally able to breathe easy!

Though, of course, I had the creepy-crawlies the rest of the night, jumping at every little hair that brushed across my skin. And there are spider guts on the bottom of my swiffer... but that's okay! I can deal with that! Because, as of this morning, there was no sign of Mr. Spider or his web of doom! I call that a win!

In other news, in mostly all of my spare time, when I'm not slaying spider-dragons, I have been working on my writing. I played with colored pencils and markers the other day and drew several versions of the same map (basic, geographical, and political, obviously) for a story. I also created a fun title banner for another story I've been playing with, along with some hard-core idea mapping. Whether or not any of these things end up coming to fruition, let alone completion, is another matter entirely....

The only downside is, while I've been away in my creative mindset, the dishes have sort of piled a little, as has the laundry...and I really need to vacuum... But its fair to say the writer's block is gone. And the spider.

Win-win!

Day Seventeen

Today has been a fantastic day. Completely serious, honest to goodness, best day ever (okay, well, in a long while, at least!) Being my birthday, this was bound to happen. I mean, really. 

Quick rundown of my day: Slept in. Went to lunch with Nichole and Melissa. Then to Straight Upp Studio. Then Orange Leaf.  I worked on some writing exercises. Had the BEST Chinese food ever for dinner with the family. Played with my nephews. Had the awesomest (I know its not a word!) homemade ice cream cake ever. Opened presents. Held my youngest nephew while he slept on my chest. Played with my OTHER nephew while taking videos.  Cuddled with Melvin. 

Us girls after our pottery painting! 

This, to me, is a well-rounded wonderful day of everything I love! I couldn't get a more perfect day than that. Really. I mean...I am quite speechless about it at the moment actually. (See Facebook and Twitter for pictures, videos, and other comments from my day.) 

What I really wanted to share, however, had nothing to do with the fact that is my birthday and everything to do with the fact that I am a writer. 

As previously mentioned, I am working my way through Steering the Craft by Ursula K. Le Guin, a wonderful book on writing techniques and tips and all that good stuff. I am also reading through a few other similar books, including a book titled How to Write Compelling Fiction and another called Around the Writer's Block (There are subtitles, and subtitles to the subtitles for this last one, but I won't add them here). 

The background story: When I was still living in Nebraska (No, I'm not a Huskers fan now. Stop asking.) I had played with the idea of getting a masters degree in creative writing. Creative Writing, I figured, was what I really wanted to do with my English degree, so that seemed the next logical step. It wasn't really what I wanted to do, but I thought I had to do it because everyone else was going to get their masters degrees and at the time, I had no idea what else to do. It was an easy answer to the question what are you going to do with your degree now that you've graduated? Long story short, I've now realized that getting an MFA is NOT what I want to do. (This was realized before the library epiphany of this last week). 

But, that being said, there is no reason not to continue my education in becoming a better writer. Why do I have to go to a university and get a degree in it when there are so many free resources at my disposal? Books! The best weapons in the world! (to quote Doctor Who, roughly). 

I am not normally a non-fiction reader. But, if I am going to become a better writer, I must learn to expand my horizons on all fronts, including what I read (and write, but we'll get to that). So I started travelling over to the non-fiction section, looking for books on writing. Oh boy did I find some! 

There are so many books on writing, written from every angle and for every specific genre or technique or advice type I may ever need or want! I narrowed it down to two at first (the third I mentioned I already owned) and I am really enjoying it. I don't need a fancy school to learn about writing from other writers. I just need a library. 

So, slowly, I am trying to teach myself to become a better writer, and Ursula K. Le Guin is taking a large part in the beginnings of that journey at the moment. In one of my moments of downtime today, I opened up her book and read the third chapter, talking about sentence length and rhythm. How a sentence should lead to the next sentence, to advance and move the story (and the reader) forward. Prose writing should not make a reader stop and go "Oh! Wow!" with flowery, divine imagery--that is for poetry. It was a good chapter. 

At the end of her relatively short chapters (which include excerpt examples from other famous writers. See? Learning from the best!) she includes writing exercises. I love these because I make myself do them, even if I think I can't or it will be too hard. No one is going to see them, really, and it doesn't matter if its good, the point is I did it and I tried and I'm stretching myself. I can go back and do the exercise again later and might find I've improved. 

The point. Right. I'm rambling a bit. (I tend to do that when I'm excited about something.) The exercise for this chapter was actually two-fold. Exercise A: Write a paragraph or so using all short sentences of 7 words or less. Exercise B: Write a half-page (350 words) using only one, long sentence. 

The first part I was pretty confident about. How hard is that? Short sentences? Easy. Of course, she did say no fragments--they had to be full sentences. I was more worried about part b. One long sentence? Over 300 words in ONE SENTENCE? Madness, woman! 

But I did it! And honestly, I'm a little surprised how it turned out. I was certainly not expecting the voice that came out of it. 

Part A (Short Sentences): 

It was hot. So hot, the sidewalk felt like fire. I fanned myself languidly. Susan did the same. She hated hot weather. She was more of a winter person. I'm not a fan of snow. Too cold and wet in my opinion. But that day was hot as hell. A dog panted in the neighbors yard. Huff, huff, huff. I watched him, bored. A bee buzzed past my head. I swatted at it. It flew at Susan. She squealed in fright, squirming away. I laughed and she glared at me.

"Not funny, Piggly," she snorted rudely. I glared at her. I hated that nickname. She knew I hated it. She'd done it on purpose.

"I hope the damn thing stings you." I stuck my tongue out at her. I felt a little childish doing so. I didn't really care, though. It felt good. I stormed off, into the house. The screen door slammed behind me—SMACK. I heard Susan scream, frustrated. I only laughed again, harder, that time. 

For some reason, I got a bit of a Great Gatsby era vibe from this particular passage. Not really sure why, but it is an interesting tid-bit. Makes me interested in the rest of their story. You know? 

Part B (One long Sentence): 

There are few things a man, being of sound mind and able body, can consider himself lucky to hold; being sane, he must hold a wife of contentable beauty--that being, of course, entirely of his own designation whether he be satisfied with her—and likewise breed children of her if of able body; if this is failing to him, a man may substitute the woman for a dog—preferably a large one, with long floppy ears and the good nose of a hunting dog, but, again, it be entirely up to him which sort appeals to him—and live many years with the contented, happy companionship that a canine's unfaltering loyalty can give, unlike a woman's, who, bless their sex, can become moody and particular at certain times of their lives, especially if such a woman is carrying the man's child within her, at which time there is seldom a contentable or satisfying moment to be found until said child is grown with a family and babes of its own; likewise, if a man be of sane and able body, he may consider himself lucky to hold faith, both in conjunction and in direct opposition to the previously stated condition of marriage, this being of course, as faith is required upon the connecting of the two bodies in a church in front a priest but in opposition during the times when the woman, as stated, is contemptible enough to push the man to thinking and even saying things that are certainly not bred of a faith-centered mind—not meaning, of course, that either the man nor woman has no faith at all, but perhaps has only forgotten it or set it aside in that moment—which leads to the third item a man be lucky to hold, being the forgiveness of said contemptible or, in such a case, pregnant, woman he has so luckily and unluckily found himself holding as, man knows, the forgiveness of the fairer sex, though hard won, is a treasure finer than the diamond she wears on her finger and far more easily revoked, so, gentleman, if they find themselves holding such a rare gem as a woman's forgiveness, they must certainly consider themselves lucky and rich men indeed.

 This is, without a doubt, the longest sentence I have ever written in my life. It is also the only passage of anything I have ever written from the point of view of a male. (I'm pretty darn sure). I don't know why, but when I started the task of writing a long, complex sentence, it just came out this way. Male, Jane Austen-era-y, essay-type sentence. The fact that the subject is talking about marriage and relationships between men and women--and dissing women a bit!--is just hilarious to me! Again, I've NO earthly idea why or how this came out of me, but in that moment, it did. And honestly? I am loving it! Who knew stretching my writing boundaries would be so much fun? 

(Photo from +Goodreads via twitter)

Day Thirteen Through Sixteen

Yesterday (Day Fifteen) was my dad's birthday. 53 years old. We celebrated with a little pizza and ice cream and some family time. This meant, of course, more time with my nephews (see Day Twelve).  My only complaint from the night was the enormous amount of calories I am sure I consumed between the pizza, breadsticks, and cookie dough cyclone from Kreem Kup! Yikes!

Tomorrow is my birthday. (*squeals gleefully*) The plan is to go out with a couple of my friends for lunch and some pottery painting at Straight Upp Studio in Aggieville, and then my family and I are going to dinner for the best Chinese food ever, hands down, in Silverlake. I am super excited about both! Although, again, not so much about the calories. I feel like they should make a rule that calories simply don't count on birthdays and holidays. I'd be so much thinner.

Earlier this week I had a conversation with my coworker about dream jobs and "the next step". She is getting married next year, and so her next step is fairly obvious—move and marry. She knows where she wants to work—she's an ag major—and where she wants to live and who she wants to spend the rest of her life with. I feel a little bit jealous of it all, to be honest, as she is two years younger than me and has her life more in order than I do. Of course, if she were to read this she would probably laugh and say, "Ha! Yeah right!" But that is seldom comforting when you sit on my end of things. Just saying, Karlee.

It, of course, got me started on the age-old question: what are you going to do with your major now that you've graduated? I have hemmed and hawed over this question more than Hamlet in his famous monologue! To be or not to be? Oh, Hammy, that is indeed a very good question.

As we talked, I voiced some of the things I'm passionate about. Reading, writing, the increasing illiteracy of our world, and the decreasing interest in books in general. I declared that I am a horrible teacher, I have tried, and so I find myself a little stuck on just how I want to use my degree in a 9-5, real, adult, regularly paying job. I am not a journalist. I am not a teacher. I am a writer, but not of essays or articles. I write novels and poetry and the occasional short story (and blog post, obviously). That, in itself, will not support me. Not with rent and loans and all the other bills that are stacked on my coffee table right now.... So. It comes back to the million dollar question. What am I going to do with my major now that I've graduated?

Well, I can honestly tell you I have come a step closer to figuring that out! It was Karlee who helped me do so, actually. I had expressed my desire to inspire kids, especially teenagers, to find a love of reading, but had no earthly idea how to use that desire to get a regular paycheck. Then the magic words came from her mouth—"What about a library?"

I was iffy about it at first. Not because it wasn't a fantastic idea, but because I've worked at a library before. Years ago (Wow, ten years now??) my first job was working at the Wamego Public Library.

I was so excited about it, obviously, as my love of reading often brought me to the hallowed aisles of the local library. I had been bugging the poor librarians for months about openings and applications and finally I was interviewed and hired! I worked for a few hours after school every day and every other Saturday. I shelved books, tidied shelves—the books do not just magically line up at the front of the shelf!—and checked books in and out to patrons. It wasn't always the most interesting of jobs, but it was fairly perfect for me. As a first job went, being fifteen, it was pretty good. Way better than flipping burgers.

It did not last long, however. A few days after Christmas, I went in for my shift and was called into the boss's office and, long story short, fired. I had been fired. From my first job. At a library. I was devastated!

I won't go into the reasons why—I still disagree with them—but I will say it turned me off of going back to the library for some time after that. At least WPL. I turned in my keys and went across the street to where my mom was working at Wamego Drug. We stepped into the back room and I bawled my eyes out to her, telling her between sniffles and tears what had happened.

My sister was called to pick me up and take me home, at which time I realized I had left my purse at the library. I remember it was my pink purse I'd gotten for Easter that year. I was too devastated and embarrassed and all kinds of other things to slink back inside to ask for my purse back, so my sister did it for me while I waited morosely in the car.

I did not go back into the library for several months. Probably, I'd say, until Summer when, being out of school, it became necessary to have access to free borrowed books. The first time returning to the library was incredibly hard for me. I felt like my pride had been stomped all over and my dreams ripped from my hands. I loved books. I loved libraries. And they had fired me!

I ducked into the library, hardly acknowledging the clerks at the desk, and slunk behind the shelves of the adult fiction section, near tears as I pretended to be nonchalant about the entire thing. I felt like my ex-boss was staring at me the entire time I was there, and like everyone else was judging me, thinking how horrible of a person I must be to get fired from the library.

I will say Lucille was always nice to me. Every time I came in after the firing debacle, Lucille, the elderly woman in her eighties who had been working there since I could remember, always had a genuine smile on her face for me and kind words, asking me how I was doing and all that. I never felt weird about it with Lucille. I don't know why, but she was the one person it was never weird with after that. Everyone else, to this day, if I see them I am immediately reminded of that time and it gets awkward. Despite appearances.

So, when Karlee first suggested "library" to me, my first reaction was, "No way. I'm not doing that again!"

But then I realized it had been nearly ten years since that had happened. I was not the same person I was then. I've had so many other jobs, and learned so many things about life and work ethics and everything, I couldn't hold myself to the same person I was then. It was my first job, after all. It's not like I knew what I was doing. And "library" did not necessarily mean "Wamego Library". As my coworker pointed out, it could be the Manhattan library, or a school library even. 

The point was, if I wanted to work closely with kids and encouraging reading and literacy, a library was probably the best place to do so! Suddenly, the possibilities were swimming through my head and I got really excited. Because she was right! She was SO right!

Immediately after this epiphany of mine, I calmed down and declared that I would just wait for whatever opportunity God put in my path, whatever it might be, and try to follow his lead.

Then I got on the computer and onto the Manhattan Mercury website where a position was posted for Manhattan Public Library for Tween/Teen Coordinator. Basically, the dream job I had just finished discussing. I followed the link to the website and immediately printed out an application. Surely, I thought, this is a sign from God! I mean, what are the chances that the day I talk about it at work is when I find the exact job posted online? And right across the street, nonetheless! I filled out the application and turned it in over my lunch break, incredibly happy and excited about the possibilities.

"But I probably won't even get it," I told myself—and many other people. I mean, I'm not really qualified, and they're probably looking for someone with more experience. You know, in libraries and such. I am just some 24-year-old with a reading habit. It probably won't turn in to anything.

But when I said those words to them today (not for the first time) two of my coworkers (one of them being my boss, actually) replied with "why do you say that? Of course you could get it! You have supervisor experience (my current position) you have an English degree, you know all about books and stuff" (to paraphrase their comments). "you could totally get it!"

This got my head turning. Maybe I could! Maybe I could get this job! How awesome would that be? Landing my dream job? Using my degree and my passion AT THE SAME TIME? I would literally spending my days inside a library, working with teens and YA literature. That's got "Megan" written ALL over it! I started picturing what it would be like, interviewing for it, landing the job, and working every day at the library, working with kids and books and...and...!!

I had to take a deep breath after that. My head has a tendency to run away with things and I get ahead of myself more often than not. It isn't bad, of course, to be excited and passionate about a job. It is a good thing, actually! But I knew I had to keep a level head about it, too. If I got too far ahead of myself, I'd only be all the more disappointed when I didn't hear anything.

A mantra started to play on repeat in my head:

Give it to God. Give it to God. Give it to God.

Don't get too excited. Don't get too excited. Don't get too excited...

but, Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! What if—

Give it to God. Give it to God. Give it to God....

And so on and so forth. You get the idea.

I did stop by after work today to inquire about my application, and, after a few phone calls from the ladies at circulation, I was told that they will be making calls around the 19th (as there are a lot of people on vacation right now, apparently) and to come back or call around then. I smiled and thanked them, and left.

Knowing full well that I will be FREAKING OUT in agonizing non-patience until the 19th, upon which day I will be staring incessantly at my phone waiting for it to ring. Every time it does, I will be hoping it is them, calling me to schedule an interview, and then get incredibly disappointed when it is my mother or a telemarketer. (Sorry, Mom. I love you, though.)

Seriously, though. If I got this job, I'd be the epitome of the single-woman stereotype. I can see the online dating profile now! "Single librarian and cat owner with a weakness for romance novels and long walks on the beach, looking for intelligent, successful, secretly-nerdy-athletic type to fall deeply in love with her. Whovian and dog-owner optional." Am I right?? 

Take a deep breath.

Give it to God.

Don't get ahead of yourself.

Give it to God.

But what if.... That is the question!!