The World Is a Big Place

Photograph by Mary Lundin, submitted to My Shot via NatGeo

I've had my mind on travel lately, and not just because it's summer, though that's undoubtedly part of it. Somewhere beachy and photogenic sounds best--coastal Maine, California. Or somewhere historic and iconic, Washington DC, Chicago, Boston. I don't know if I'm getting stir-crazy (a strong possibility), or if I'm just feeling like I'm missing out on the world because the 9 to 5 grind has me in its death grip.

I'm not even full-time, so I feel like maybe I shouldn't (or others who are FT think I shouldn't) be complaining about not having had a vacation in two years. But we all wear out. We all lose sight of ourselves and what's important to us, and a vacation is sort of a mentally stabilizing factor that reminds us that the world isn't all spreadsheets and time cards.

Of course, vacation planning can be extremely stressful, mostly financially, but coordinating driving directions, flights, routes, public transportation on arrival, hotel reservations, campsite reservations, and figuring out what's legal to carry on a plane nowadays is a trip unto itself, and not a pleasant one. As if you're supposed to suffer before you get to let it all hang out.

I think mostly I want a vacation to have time to myself. I don't even have to travel out of the state (granted, I do live in a pretty cool one) to do that. Some time alone to read, I'm so behind on my reading, some time away from the Internet, some time to write, some time to think, some time off from the worries, fears, and frustrations of everyday 21st century life.

I've always wanted to travel--like EVERYWHERE. England, France, Italy, Russia, Australia, Thailand, Egypt, New Zealand, Israel, Greece, India, etc. etc. I've always been held back by money, and occasionally by priorities. The "someday" mentality firmly implanted in my mind, as it is in most minds.

There's always something, usually quite a rational something, that's going to hold you back from doing what you want to do, whether it's money, time, family, romance, or fear of air travel, but at some point, you have to decide what you want, and how far you're willing to go to get it. Sometimes, as we all learned well in Risky Business, "you have to say, what the fuck" and run with it.

As much as I'd like to be that person more of the time, I'm still the cautious person who plans everything out and considers everything carefully and thoroughly before making a decision. Maybe that's a good thing. My life overall is in pretty good shape, all things considered. But, it means I don't take risks very often, and while that has kept me out of danger for the most part, it has also kept me from experiencing some of the best things the world has to offer.

via AmericanSongwriter.com

Just a few ruminations on travel, vacations, and what's important.

Runnin' down a dream. 

It's Thursday and I'm Broke

  Remember how I mentioned my car insurance debt, and my broken electronics (camera, laptop battery, cell phone that is now replaced with a shiny new one)? I still owe car insurance money, I still haven't gotten my camera fixed, and I still need a new laptop battery. I was just lucky the phone only set me back $50. (Thanks, Black Friday!) But, now it's worse. Now it's my actual car. It's worse because it's the most expensive and probably most necessary expenditure on the list.
    I had noticed that over the last few weeks, it had begun a nasty habit of devouring gas and the "service engine soon" light came on last Wednesday. I took it and got it checked out to see what the error code was and how much it was going to run to get the part cleaned/fixed/replaced.
    Originally, I was told about $270. Fine. It's an important piece of the machinery, and compared to the godawful estimate we got from this other car repair shop, I was comfortable with shelling out $270 to get my car fixed. I live out of my car about 3 to 5 days a week, so it seemed a reasonable price to pay to help out the machine that's been with me for such a long time.
    Then, dad says I should have a diagnostic done (another chunk of $ that was more than I was told it would be) so we can take care of all the maintenance now, and also so we don't end up replacing one part when it was actually another part that was creating the issue in the first place. Again, I accept it. Not happy about it, but it seems like a sensible plan.
    Bad news: not only is it the ECG valve that needs replacing, but this has build up on it that needs cleaning and this thing is leaking and this other thing needs to be replaced and yada yada yada, $600.
    Fuck. Seriously. I know I don't usually full-on curse here without symbols, but this one hurt. For the most part, this car hasn't given me any trouble for the past 8 years I've owned it. Oil changes, O2 sensor, new tires, a few other minor things over the years, alignments, regular maintenance, etc. This is the most it's ever set me back.
    And the damnedest thing is, the thing I'm kicking myself for, is I was seriously thinking about selling it this year. I was going to sell it before it got too many more miles on it so I could still get a decent amount of money to put towards a newer (still used) car. If I had sold it two months ago when I was really thinking about it, I would never have had to deal with this.
    To come up with the scratch for the repair, I cashed in my piggy banks (yes, I still have piggy banks filled with pocket change) and all that was left of an emergency fund I've been saving for 9 years. It was really painful to see money I'd been saving up for such a long time get wiped out in just one day.
    Long story short (too late)--I was upset. I know I'm really lucky that I still have a steady (even if it's part-time) job, even if my emergency stash is all gone. I know I'm lucky that my car went this long before needing any serious repairs. And I know I'm lucky that I don't have to choose between putting food on the table and getting my car fixed, but that doesn't make me feel any better about all this.
    It really hurts that I saved all that money for such a long time for something that's probably never going to happen. I call it an emergency fund, because that's what I used it for in the short-term, but its ultimate purpose was to be for a big trip, like Paris or Hawaii or something. And now unless I win the lottery or something, that trip is probably not going to happen for another ten or twenty years.
    I wish I didn't live in a place that made it so difficult to get around without a car. I kind of wish that I had sold this car before something like this happened to it. But mostly, I wish that I could be more detached about it--it is only money--but to me, it represented something bigger that I feel like I've lost now.
    I hate being grown-up. I don't want to revert to being fifteen again or anything, but I wish there was some way of being self-sufficient without having to rely on "stuff" rather than people. Grown-ups more rely on their cars, on their phones, on their jobs, on their computers, on their morning coffee, to get them through all the emotional and financial burdens that come with adulthood--bills, mortgage payments, clothes, gas for the cars, insurance, etc. Kids rely on people--teachers, babysitters, carpool or bus drivers, friends, and most of all, parents.
    Does this seem a little backwards to anyone? I don't mean adults should always rely on other people to take care of their problems, but shouldn't adults have more "people" they can count on and go to when they need help, financial, emotional, or otherwise? Why is so much of adulthood wrapped up in relying on "things"? No wonder we're so cut off from the rest of the world!
    I'm anticipating a debate here, so jump in with a comment if you feel inclined to prove me wrong.

One day at a time.

And Now For Something... Completely Different

  Because of my extremely heavy and complaint-ridden negative-downer post yesterday, I thought I'd go through a few of the positive things going on to balance things out.
    First of all, I'm on to a new book I'm working on--completely opposite of the last one--about international intrigue and scientific discoveries and maybe a strong female love interest. It's going slow. I haven't written something that required so much research in a while, and I'm a little out of practice. But I think having an outline is going to work to my advantage. I can't be creative when it comes to stuff like because I'll get lost in all the stuff I made up. Having a map ahead of time will help, I hope.
    Second of all, the Giants won the Superbowl. Burn a thousand times, burn, on New England. Cocky bastards. I'm not a big football fan--I actually consider myself a Cardinals fan just because Jerry Maguire is my favorite movie--but I am a fan of New York things in general, so I don't feel like it's a betrayal. And some of the commercials were actually pretty good.
These were some of my favorites:

• Ferris Bueller=Classic
• Darth Vader. Nuff said.
• French bulldog racing greyhounds.
• Will Arnett: Funniest Man Ever. Come on!
• Dog Covering Up a Murder
• Ha ha ha Twihards
• This is just hilarious. Uberburn on the white knight.
• Here Wego!
• Danny Devito is funny in almost anything.
• Darth is still funnier.

    We got free lunch, sort of, yesterday at work because apparently it was Jimmy John's Customer Appreciation Day. I got a free small sandwich and we went to Chick-Fil-A to get a couple extra sides (yogurt and granola for me :)
    In addition to my positivity journal, I'm trying to take better care of myself. I'm back on LiveStrong.com this year to try to lose a little weight and eat healthier. I have new exercise DVDs, and I'm trying to cut out some of the eating out. I'm taking vitamins for the first time in YEARS (i.e. they are no longer in gummy or chewable form).
    I am trying to be nicer to myself, which is always hard. I'm setting aside a few bucks out of each paycheck to buy myself something off my Amazon wishlist. Partly because I like getting things in the mail, and partly because at this rate, I'm going to need to have like six birthdays a year to whittle that list down to a reasonable size. 
    I'm trying to commit myself to doing more good, for myself, the people I'm close to, and the world as a whole. It's going to be a long process, but I think it will be worth it.
    I've realized that a lot of my negativity comes from dwelling on stuff. While some it is sort of reasonable to dwell on because it affects me on a day-to-day basis, some of it isn't. I've also realized that I probably wouldn't be so negative if I didn't have that grass-is-always-greener mentality. Things aren't going to magically get better because one thing changes--usually something that is out of your control.
    The Greeks had a word for this: deus ex machina (this is one of my favorite phrases to pull on non-liberal arts people), which means god from the machine". It's usually used in theater, when one of the gods would come down and fix things so that the story, which had gotten far too complex and tangled up for the humans to fix things in three acts, could end. There is no magic wand that's going to give you a better boss or more money or lose weight. You have to effect the changes you want to see in your life, and that's what I'm trying to do now. I suck at it, but I'm hoping I'll get better with time and practice.

Who thought I'd be optimistic in the year the world is supposed to end?

What do you think about optimism? Is it the same as idealism? Is it unrealistic?

Tell me what you think in the comments.

These Vagabond Shoes

  I was torn as to whether I should write about the quandary of an apartment search I'm still having, or whether to write about a piece of nostalgia I experienced recently. Since I think I will probably manage to wax a little more poetic with the latter, that's where we're headed.
    The little piece of nostalgia I experienced happened at the movie theater last weekend, where I saw 4, count 'em 4, movies. One of which was Friends with Benefits, which takes place in New York City. I had no idea of this as I entered the theater, considering they played up the Hollywood sign scene in the previews so much, but I was elated when I discovered it took place in Old New York. While it doesn't evince the "New York State of Mind" quality that some movies do, When Harry Met Sally or pretty much any Ed Burns directed movie, it prickled at my nostalgia nonetheless. A few years ago, though now it seems much more distant than that, I was going to move to new york. I was going to move there after I finished high school, go to college there, become a big-city girl, find my dream job, fall in love, and publish one of my damn novels if it was the last thing I did.
    Obviously, things didn't quite pan out that way. I stayed in state for college. I have a good job, but not the job I imagined having once I was college-graduated and big-dream bound--publishing, advertising, law office, basically somewhere where you wear a suit and high heels and carry a briefcase and drink martinis after work at happy hour. I live in what I would classify as a large town, as opposed to a world-renowned metropolitan city. I fell in love when I was seventeen (it was a very good year), and I am still unpublished, except for the musings and ramblings I post here at Insistent and Persistent.
    The world sure looks different now compared to when I was 15. I can't imagine having such a competitive job and wearing high heels every day. But I still imagine what my life would be like if I had done what the 15-year-old version of myself wanted me to do. I would probably be living in a crappy apartment, making more money than I am now--but because of the housing costs in Manhattan, it wouldn't really feel like I was making more money. I would probably be reading and watching a lot of movies, which is much of what I do in my spare time here. I would be alone, because I'm afraid of going out by myself to meet people. I wouldn't be friends with my neighbors, or hanging out and getting to know the bartenders and the regulars at a local watering hole. I'm way too shy for that. And considering the types of neighbors I might have, not getting to know them might be for the best.
    It's interesting to think about where you thought you'd be and where you ended up by that age. Things definitely don't work out the way you expected them to. Ever. But I always wonder if that's because life gets screwed up and derailed from time to time, throwing a wrench in your perfect, if not perfectly thought out, plans, or if it's really because you never had the balls to try something terrifying like moving to a city where you don't know anyone and trying, not just to survive, but to succeed.
    I think it's probably a little bit of both--we all know how indecisive i can be, and this is no exception. I think if I put the effort into looking for a job there, I could get one. It might take me a while, but I think I could do it. The apartment might be tougher, but I'd figure something out, even if it meant, god forbid, living in Jersey for a few months. But, we come to the "if it ain't broke" adage in which we reason that: I already have a job, I have a place to stay even if it isn't ideal, I have a relationship, and I'm making it on my own, for the most part. Why would I give all this up for a shot at some pipe-dream nostalgic fancy that's lingered on for eight years? (Eight--god that makes me feel old.)
    The fact is, I wouldn't. Not now. If one of those things seriously fell into disarray, I might revisit the idea. But my life, despite all the complaining I do, is actually going pretty well. The "grass is greener" ideology only applies when the grass on this side of the fence is no longer green, as opposed to when it's green, but not as lush and deliciously deep green as the grass on the other side of the fence.
    So, New York, you'll have to wait. Maybe someday I will meet you again and take you by storm, dazzling you and all your big-wig, pompous, New-Yorker-reading, nicotine-saturated echelon with my brilliance. But for now, I will daydream and write and imagine that you are still as beautiful and chaotic and interesting as you were the last time I saw you all those years ago.

If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere.

A (Lady) Bug's Life

  Standing in line at Qdoba for lunch, the four of us (my coworkers and I) noticed a ladybug crawling along the cracks in the tile, moving with the line. Apparently, it was a "fake" ladybug, something I didn't even know existed. Apparently, it was a ladybug imposter that looks just like a ladybug only darker. They eat the fruit or the vegetable, while true ladybugs eat the other bugs (aphids) that eat the fruit or vegetable. It occurred to me how evolutionarily advantageous this was. (I actually articulated this, and didn't stumble over the word "evolutionarily".) We watched for a painstaking, horrifying 5 minutes as the ladybug imposter inched closer and closer to the front of the line.
    There was a man at the counter who was shifting his weight and moving his feet around. We avoided the little bugger, but as the bug got closer to the counter (and past his place in line, I might add), it became alarmingly clear that he was probably going to get stepped on, and what's more, it would be the weight-shifting yakker ahead of us who would unknowingly do the deed. And sure enough, ladybug imposter gets closer, closer, and then, weight-shifter shifts again and... SMUSH.
    We had a brief psychological/philosophical discussion about the bug still being alive after getting stepped on, the size of its brain, and whether it was able to feel pain. My inclination was no. The bug may not have died on impact, but what little brains it has surely can't register pain anymore, I thought. Its head is probably the most vulnerable part, and would have probably been crushed more than its back when stepped on. Any life left in it would be reflexes, not neurological commands. I didn't want to get into it, and as we were at the place in line where we could order finally, I didn't have to.
    But, how did the little ladybug imposter get inside the Qdoba? Did he walk, as we saw him doing? Did he fly through the door as it opened? Or did he land on some unsuspecting burrito lover who carried him in? How did he reach his eventual demise? We'll never know, but that's why there are people like me. To imagine a plot in which a ladybug imposter finds himself on the floor at Qdoba.

Ladybug imposter? Bah, humbug.

The Heat Is On

  It was a not so sunny 85ish degrees today. One of the first (if only) days this year so far that was that warm. The moths are out in force. Four times in the past twenty four hours, I've opened my car doors and a moth flew out from the crevice between the door and the car. And there were two in the office this afternoon. (I suggested we get a cat to take care of that problem.)
    But I'm not going to talk about the weather. The heat is on because I have 29 days to find a new apartment. My lease is up at the end of June and I not only refuse to stay and pay the outrageous (to put it mildly) month to month rent at my current apartment, but I also semi-refuse to move back in with my parents temporarily until I do find a place. I was living there for about 3 and a half months last year after I got my job, but the commute is a little farther than I'd like, and I was hoping, trying to be a grown-up and all, that I wouldn't have to be in that position again.
    But it's sort of slim pickins. There are plenty of places out there, but many are either: A) too far from work; B) at the basement or ground level (I worry about flooding out here); C) too expensive for my barely double digit an hour salary; D) do not allow cats (I would like to finally bring my cat up to live with me so my dad can stop babysitting him for me); or E) just aren't very nice (old, bug infested, or in a bad neighborhood). I have a few prospects, which my wonderful boyfriend has agreed to call for me since I would rather not make personal phone calls while I'm at work. Hopefully there will be something out there. It doesn't need to be that big or fancy or modern. It'd just be nice if it had a dishwasher and would let me have my cat. I'm probably too picky, so it's good to have a second opinion along to keep that in check.

    On the bright side: I paid my last month's rent today to the apartment nazis I currently have a lease with. 

Countdown to new apartment: 29 days (or less). I hope.

"I'll Have What She's Having."

    Why do we want we can't have? You order the grilled salmon at the restaurant, but once your friend gets his 12 ounce sirloin steak, you wish you'd ordered the steak. You bought the 32" TV in good spirits, but when your neighbor buys the 48" television, you kick yourself for not spending the extra money on a bigger set. You love your dog, but you can't help wanting to get another one, a puppy that will be oh-so-cute for a few months, just because he's new and different. I think we're getting close to the heart of it here: novelty. [Note: Title of this post taken from a line from When Harry Met Sally. Haven't seen it? You should.]
    Novelty is the reason so many people have so much stuff and spend so much money and want even more. Well, I know that I already have the new I-Pod, but they just put out another newer one, with a touchscreen, and 50 GB with video last week. It only costs $500. I just bought new shoes yesterday, but that girl over there has these awesome-looking pumps that I think I have to have for... $200.
    We like new stuff--that's not news. But is it because it's new, or is it actually an improvement on what we now have? In some cases, we do need an update on something. The stereo only brings in the radio if you stand really close to it? It might be time for a new one. Or at least a new antenna. The jeans you're wearing have holes in them and so many patches you can't even tell where the original fabric is? You may want to invest in a new pair.
    However, it's not these cases that are the issue. It's the cases where you have something that's perfectly good, works fine, serves its purpose, you still enjoy using/wearing it, but the new one just came out, or a cooler looking one just came out, and even though it's way out of your budget, and completely unreasonable to spend that kind of money on it, something inside you tells you that you want it--not only want it, but have to have it. You may even feel like you can't live without it--it's just so much more convenient and user-friendly and better than what you have now.
    I'm guilty of this "grass is greener" mentality as much as the next person. I constantly want what the person next to me ordered, to the point that I mooch off their plate all night. I have bought clothes that I didn't absolutely need for the reason that they were trendier or prettier-looking than something I already had. It's always a frustrating boat to be in, not having something you want, or worse, not being able to afford something you really want. I know how lucky I am to be where I am in this world and have what I have. Some of it I've earned, some of it I've received due to the generosity of others, or with the help of others, but I am grateful for what I have. It's just that sometimes, I do want the new shoes, or that incredible-looking steak on my dinner companion's plate.
    Perhaps it's biology, or evolution, to want what we can't have. It keeps us working hard, doing more, trying to have more, trying to make ourselves cooler, sexier, more attractive, interesting, intelligent--even if it's only in appearance, and not in actuality. [Digression: Appearance actually seems to play quite a large role in evolution and adaptation from what I understand--though I'm no scientist.]
    While the reason for wanting what we can't have may remain a mystery, with only speculation available as some kind of answer to it, at the very least, if we can recognize that we want something for its novelty rather than its necessity, perhaps we can scale that impulse back a little bit. Learn to do without. It probably won't happen, but awareness is the first step on the path to change.

You can't always get what you want. [The Rolling Stones]

[Kuhn-flikt]ing [Kon-flikt]s

Conflict has several meanings. One is when two things disagree, like two people having an argument about something. Another is for them not only to disagree, but to struggle or clash with one another. Often, we use it as an adjective--"to be conflicted about" something.
    Conflict, like anger, grief, or love, is not an easy feeling to experience. Anger, grief and love are directed toward others, but conflict is something that happens within ourselves. Conflict, similarly, is related to ambivalence. As you have a choice of which side of the conflict you want to give in to, you also have a choice between two things you are uncertain about when you are ambivalent. Ambivalence does not mean indifference--but rather, both actions are holding their own and you are uncertain about which is the better course to take. Conflict can lead to the uncertainty of ambivalence, or vice versa.
    Unfortunately, things don't resolve themselves. Sooner or later, we have to pick a side, choose a lane, to move on with our lives. It's never an easy decision, but it always comes to that. Sometimes the conflict fades, and we are left with only the stronger of the options. But more often, or perhaps it only seems that way because it is these instances that stand out more in memory, the conflict builds until it reaches a crescendo or climax, at which point it is impossible to maintain the status quo. When that climax appears, you have to take a step in one direction or the other, or else the whole mess blows up in your face.
    We can be conflicted about tons of things. Should we get a bigger apartment/house? Do I need a new job? Should we have another kid? Should I try tap dance lessons or sculpture classes? What kind of car should I get? Caesar or house salad? Steak or chicken? Some conflicts are smaller, but some are life-altering.

The point, dear readers, is this: 

You can't go through life always wondering which side of the field is greener. 

You have to, at some point, pick a side.
Going back and forth is exhausting, and you can't be in two places at once.

No one wants to live in conflict, and yet, we still don't want to choose one side for fear that it's the wrong one. We like to leave our options open. We like being able  to pick from fifteen brands of jeans and twenty kinds of spaghetti sauce. Options are nice to have. But when they come into conflict, leaving you only two courses of action, options can be more of a burden than a blessing.

The grass may be greener on this side of the field, but that side has the beer.