Grown Up Halloween-Scary!

No, it's not the nostalgic images brought to mind when you remember childhood Halloweens of long ago. Times when we sat in circles scaring ourselves with ghost stories. It was great seeing who would crack up before the story reached its climax...and who would endure to the end, shrug their shoulders, and deny its chilling effect. The fear of those days was conjured by our own desire for excitement-much like a roller coaster ride. The heights are tall and the ride fast, turning your stomach inside out, but the environment is controlled. Anyone can face a fear that's only an illusion.
But in adulthood, fear meets truth, testing my courage. The scary stories don't come from the other kids down the block, but they reside in my own mind.
Fear: When will you ever find somebody?
Truth:I'm single with no man in sight.
Hmm...Let's keep playing.
Fear: What's the purpose of my life?
Truth: I'm a late twenty-something who has gone through two careers and is struggling to make ends meet.
Yet the idealistic young girl in me challenges such "truth." These facts may be the reality of my life currently, but can one tell the end from the beginning? And isn't there a hero to this story of my life?
So I shrug my shoulders and refuse to be frightened, because the light in my soul is on. Grown up ghosts, though seemingly real, disappear when I refuse to believe in them.

Top Ten Ways to Bring in the New Year

10. Fall asleep behind the wheel for the second time and walk away-thank you, Lord!

9. Change careers and income level brackets

8. See how many address changes you can fit into one year-just for the heck of it

7. Be homeless or, uhh..."adventurous"

6. Party until you land in the ER

5. Go to Alaska and Hawaii in the same year

4. Go to a hot spring and get exfoliated and fill up on water for free

3. Accept the kindness of strangers and family

2. Fall in and out of love

1. Get a tattoo! (Not done yet. What should I get?)

When I Grow Up!

If anyone told me a few years ago that I'd be living in California, practicing massage, I would've suggested that person clean their crystal ball, because the reception's a little fuzzy. Or rather, a lot fuzzy.

But when I put on my corrective lenses, i.e. open my eyes, I see the person with the crystal ball is me. I clearly remember preparing to graduate high school and having the question posed to the mighty class of '96 (the best of the best-of course) : "Where do you see yourself in 5 years?" "In 10 years?" These questions-intended as a fun exercise- were asked with the intention of seeing where we actually do end up and how that compares to our self imposed expectations.

Not surprisingly, I didn't have an answer then, and I don't have an answer now. If anyone needs directions to some place unexpected, then plan for nowhere in particular. It's a sure way to get there.

Like the young ones, I'm still striving to answer that question, "When I grow up, I'm gonna be..." Except, I am a grown up, but I'm still waiting to "grow up."

While answering "where will I be" questions can be intimidating, nerve wracking, or devoid of solutions, they can also fuel our passions by bringing our dreams into focus.

Deadlines get things done.

Yet, deciding on goals and pursuing them is just a veneer for something deeper than typically defined success: a good paying job and a comfortable existence. It speaks to purpose. To the little ones, who approach the question, not as a test, but as an opportunity to dream.

And although my dreams have been crushed, or just stuffed away and ignored, I've begun to realize they never do go away. They resurface in the most unexpected times and ask, "Hey, remember me? I'm still here." So, in five years, will I have made any progress in the pursuit of my dreams? It's a question only I can answer.

And one that will define success for me.

Sister Edition

Can anyone say vacation? So far, San Luis has turned out to be the best kept secret of the Central Coast. Entering the town was Matrix like as the hills turned over and enveloped me on the road, all golden brown and dusty looking reminding a little of what fall should look like.
So I get here and my sister's place is less than 5 minutes from the freeway ( right around the corner). The home is quiet, spacious and lived in. The kind where you don't feel weird pulling out the pans yourself and making an egg. The first night, we lounged on the sofa.
The best part was downtown. My senses were tickled as we passed shop after shop selling unecessary but cute wares and foods. On the left a fudgerie that boasted a few fire engine red candy apples with a little granny smith green poking through. The color alone made you want to buy it. On the right were old fashioned book stores with the shelf ladders that everyone secretly wants to climb.
I loved it! It's a town for artists and expatriates that can't afford to leave the country.
It will inspire the writers to write and musicians to play. In fact, I'm going to the Farmer's Market tonight and will hear a local band.
If you're in town, bring a mug of cider, layer up and join us!

Soap Mystery-Mystery No More

Okay, so no one was using my soap.
Thank God I spared myself the embarrassment of asking them directly! I've come to this conclusion through my own personal sleuthing...

It just so happens that the soap caddy hangs semi-directly under the shower head, thereby allowing hot water to hit and essentially melt my bar of soap. Dum, dum, dum.

B-L-U-E

Like to hear it, here it go:

I got the blues...
I got the
"I ain't got no money
can't do nothing
Don't nobody care"
BLUUEEES

Oh yeah!!!

The Things We Do for Money

No, I'm not considering "alternative" means of acquiring gains. But I am in fact seriously thinking of doing the improbable, unimaginable, and inconceivable...(dramatic music here) Folks, I'm looking for a second job.

Yes, yes,I accept any and all condolences. The past few months-wait I've been unemployed and/or part-time employed for most of this year-have been a blast. And quite refreshing to boot. But one does tire of the financial strain at a point. It's a strain I've easily put up with in exchange for the time and rest I've been able to get. But, like a wad of bubble gum stretched to a stringy mass until it becomes as thin as floss, the discomforts of broke-ness have outweighed its benefits.

It's time to get back to the wad. To become one with the wad...to be chewed again in the mastication that is worklife!

As the credit card commercial suggests, many things in life are priceless, but one must spend money in order to enjoy them!
And paper I need to facilitate these priceless moments in my own life.
There are trips to take. Family to visit. Trips to take. How can I get time off of work if I can't afford to go anywhere?!

Now that I've jumped the first hurdle toward financial independence-mental work resistance-the second may not be so easily conquered...namely what can I do and who will hire me?
Job skills and marketability, evidently, are more useful in the "real world" than being able to write term papers. (Of which I've written plenty, on topics ranging from Russia in the Twentith Century to Science Women and Religion, "oh my!"). And by "real world" I mean the paying world, i.e. the "I can afford to buy groceries and feed myself world." Very real.
Keeping it real, ya heard me?

California Dreamin'

Twin sister's in town! Yipee!!
My worlds are converging...Sister suspects I'm in the witness protection program.
1. new name-I wanted to have a nickname okay?
2. new address
3. new job

Well, if I do know anything I can't tell her...
What's wrong with a makeover: life edition, anyway?

Don't worry readers-I know you are- you'll hear from her personally!
She's my special guest writer this week...

Full Moon

If there wasn't a full moon last night, there should have been.
And if you've never had the opportunity to be part of a massive crowd of people, you should.

There is-no, as a newly initiated member of this rite, rather-We have a tradition in San Luis called "bike night." After Farmer's Market, on the first Thursday of every month, bikers take to the streets en masse. In addition to the well selected, or random, depending on your point of view, dress themes (last night was hobo night) and the innovative bike horns ranging from small honks to cow bells, the sheer amount of people riding is enough to insure a "group" mentality. By this I mean one is prone and likely to do what one may not otherwise under normal circumstances.
We hooped and hollered and honked at amused, perhaps bewildered onlookers-As they responded likewise. Maybe in an attempt to encourage bolder and therefore more entertaining behavior.
This, some bikers certainly obliged. One gentleman wore nothing but a red thong. Wow. I wondered if he lost a bet...I guess there was a full moon last night! There was a girl in a cape and a man in a diaper (I don't think he rode).
But hey, all participants were protected from insult, ridicule, and expected social norms by that invisible force field "The Group." I rode under its auspices last night and it felt good!
Insert disclaimer here: In the event of emergency or fight or any situation whereby an individual must act, said group mentality becomes not fun and/or dangerous. Ride at your own risk people!

Psalm 48:1

Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised
in the city of our God!

His holy mountain, beautiful in
elevation,
is the joy of all the earth...

Adventures of Swamp Girl in Mountain Land: Part Deux-Disassociative Career Identification Disorder

Hanging out here in career limbo, the vortex of listlessness for young adults-and older ones who haven't found the exit porthole yet...is fun for a few months. But I'm starting to get antsy.
And I've already bought the "find out what you wanna do with your life without us telling you directly" self-help books.
Oh how I wish someone could just assign me a career based on those personality tests of old! "Hey, you, farmer!" Then I would have someone else to blame for my frustration and angst. Yes, angst.

The thing is, I want to figure this thing out and pursue it before life catches up with me. I'm determined not to be the woman who looks at her three kids pulling at her skirt, cooking dinner for her husband and blaming them for unfulfilled dreams. No way!

Well, as my sister says, "Time reveals all." In the meantime here's a list of potential money paying activities. Open to new additions:

1. Nurse on a cruise ship. Exact duties unknown. Aspirin and alka seltzer for hangovers?

2. Continue in massage. Start school in January and get the extra hours needed to become "therapist." If I ever make enough money to do this! Better yet, will I want to do enough massages to pay my way through school? Massage being a very relaxing type of job can be a double-edged sword.

3. Post office. Too much control, yet employee is "taken care of." Guess you can't have one without the other.

4. Musician. Of course, I could pursue my childhood ambition without regard to financial predictability and/or stability. That's an idea...One I can't seem to escape. Not as long as I'm looking for a fulfilling career.

5. Anything else within my moral limits.

Roommate ettiquette

To all Emily Post like people out there...what is appropriate to share or not share with roommates?
Food? Okay. As long as you don't take the last of anything.

Soap? Not okay. Went to take a shower and my bar of soap was all little and broken-you know how it gets when you get to the last bit of it. Can this be? In "Real World" tradition, we'll have to have a house meeting tonight. But maybe I'm just imagining things. Maybe I'm the only one using the soap...Must not rush to judgment. Hmmm...mysterious

Any comments appreciated

Food Wars

The one thing I didn't expect to adjust to here would have to be FOOD. Who knew?
Not only is the food different, but the attitude toward it and the way it is consumed are opposite of what I've grown up with.
That is to say, in New Orleans, the motto is, "Others may eat to live, but we live to eat!" And proudly said at that. If there is a salad to accompany pork laden red beans and rice, it's probably some iceburg lettuce topped by a tomato slice and drenched in Italian dressing. At least that's how they would serve it at the school cafeteria.
And pity the soul who doesn't know the basic Louisiana staples: Gumbo, dirty rice, jambalaya, the red beans and rice already mentioned, which could also be any type of bean known to man, potato salad and fried chicken. Of course the more advanced cooks, i.e. moms and dads with grown kids, expand on this basic repetoire. And can be counted on holidays/social events to contribute their personal specialties.
In Cali, eating is just a nuisance to be dealt with quickly. A growling stomach is to be shushed with the utmost efficiency in order to get to more important things, like surfing...Ok not completely fair. Maybe mountain biking or kayaking, or just plain hiking.
Back home, cooking is a celebration of life-bringing family and plain ol' hungry folks together. I remember going to my grandparents' house on Sunday afternoons. Some food was always offered, even if it was bread and butter or fudge. And to my poor mother's consternation, I very much preferred "ma-ma's" cooking to hers. She marveled that I suddenly was starving as soon as we pulled up to their house, when I refused dinner at home! Eventually, she went on an, "I'm not cooking for this family anymore" strike. The results of which I can't really remember. What a shock to come out West and be invited to peoples' homes! You may be offered a drink and a snack, but God help you if you're hungry! I soon learned to eat before social gatherings out here, unless it's a barbecue. Even then, I may eat lightly before, because food is sometimes a long time in coming. I remeber one of my first visits in Cali. I went immediately into the kitchen to see what was on the stove. Ah, nothing. I soon felt very akward, as if I was a snoop. The hostess kindly escorted me to the counter where coffee was provided. Yum yum...
Cooking traditions also allow the older generation to pass down their knowledge and wisdom to us younger women;Known as keeping the culture alive. After expressing my ignorance in frying chicken, an older church friend of mine offered to spend an afternoon teaching me how to cut up, season, and fry a bird. No small offer from an experienced woman known in the church as a good cook-whereas her peer group of other experienced church ladies tasted and approved of her delicacies-by passing muster at church events.
All this is not to say Cali eating doesn't have its fine points. I've never had such an appreciation for fruits and vegetables-or such a variety! It's just different. Whereas Louisiana culture emphasizes community through eating, Cali emphasizes togetherness in other ways...namely wacky juvenile games I have never heard of and can't recall at the present time.
C'est la vie! Or even better, "Laissez la bon temps roulez, California!" And pass the salad dressing!

The Adventures of A Swamp Girl in Mountain Land: October 2006

The Adventures of Swamp Girl in Mountain Land: October 2006

I'll keep you updated...So far the countdown has begun to finding my own place.
I've given myself 6 months to go from one in a house of four, to flying solo.
Who knows how this will happen-miracle perhaps? The when, where, and how much, are simply minor details that will work out, right? Right!

Also in the midst of a little career change. Went from stable income with benefits to very unpredictable. But I have my sanity, which is something I couldn't say about aforementioned stable job.

Single?

Remember when you'd envision yourself being married somewhere down the road? It was a nice thought, albeit one reserved for the future. Well, my friends, the bus of life has reached that point and I've missed the stop! Leaving me looking back helplessly with my face stuck to the glass. How can this be? Rules of life 101: Go to high school i.e. the best years of your life, including but not limited to parties, proms, making lifelong friends. Aged 17-21 attend and graduate college finishing in your original major. Finally, get career related to major, which, incidentally, pays well and marry the man of your dreams who you probably met in college.
Wow. That's a little overwhelming just to write, let alone do. But the older, yes older, I get the more I see how many expectations I've had on how my life should go. And when those expectations aren't met, how my world comes crashing down. Yet, everything in life at the time is good. So you walk around feeling gloomy and can't figure out why...until subconscious mind speaks up, "Hey you should have somebody by now!! Could there be something wrong with you?"
"Ah,no I'm allright just the way I am thank you very much, self!" But perhaps having a conversation with yourself could be used as evidence to the contrary.
The point is this: In school they teach us that if we do the work and apply ourselves the results will come and they'll be good. Which is true in an academic sense. But what about the lessons learned from failure? From having to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and try again? What if it takes 5 times or 10 or 20? And sometimes, we do our best, and the payoff is anything but immediate if at all. Sometimes satisfaction comes from knowing you did the right thing, and there is no pat on the back. And what does this have to do with being single? ha ha...Maybe I'm a good girl looking for a good guy who hasn't shown up yet. I've done everything I know is good to do, and yet I wait.
The journey is sometimes just as important as the destination, as "out the way" as it is. And I'm enjoying the ride!

Welcome to me

Hello Cyberspace!

I hope y'all welcome newcomers to technoworld, because I'm about as computer literate as (insert wacky Southern analogy here) who knows.

I'm a Louisiana transplant out here in Central California that took really well. I just keep coming back!