There has been a lot going on in the news lately. Everything from the Snowden leaks about the NSA data gathering across the world to one of my favorite soccer players returning to play in the US (Clint Dempsey). All signs point to some serious issues with our nation and her people and yet...
All I can think about is what I'm going to do when I graduate (hopefully this Spring). A part of me wants to disconnect for a while: delete my Facebook and Twitter accounts, and move to the mountains (this Savannah heat is absolutely killing me). My sister-in-law in Ellijay, GA made us partial owners in their coffee shop. If they get that up and running, I could get paid to make coffee and read books all day. My husband and I even talked about selling everything, buying a sail boat, and living a nomadic life for a while. What about graduate school? What about school loans? What about a job? I just don't know.
After high school, I knew exactly where I was going and what I was going to do. It was pretty easy. I had grown up with parents that strongly believed in receiving some form of secondary education. From the time I was in preschool, I knew I would be getting at least a bachelor degree someday. So what do I do, now that that moment is so close? The economy suggests that it will take a miracle to get a career (not a job) right out of college, so should I jump into finding my master's degree? Will that help my future prospects of landing on the right career?
That was the plan. Until I burned out. Honestly, I'm not sure how much more of school I can take. Don't get me wrong-- I love learning. I just spent this whole summer studying the history of Savannah, Georgia, just so I could get my tour guide permit to tell strangers how awesome this city is.
I'm frustrated with the institution of it all. I've had few good teachers since starting the university path in 2010, which doesn't really encourage much faith that I'll find better ones at yet another school, pursuing yet another degree. I've already started the extensive research that goes into finding the right master's program (or several, since you really shouldn't put all your eggs in one basket), but there are so many more schools I haven't looked at yet. It's exhausting. I'm exhausted.
My next concern is this: I just spent a whole summer outside driving horses, talking about history. Every day, I felt my skin crinkle as I experienced sun burn (for the first time in years), felt sweat drip from areas I didn't realize could sweat. I even enjoyed the weeks of rain--my callused fingers sliding on the thick plastic lines, barely keeping hold of the horses when they toss their heads as thunder cracked in the sky. Yelling over the roar of trollies, the honking of speeding cars; my voice seems permanently husky now. I came back to my video production job on Monday, and I realized...I hate being in a silent, cramped, dimly lit room. Maybe it is because I feel like I'm not learning while I'm there. I was engaged this summer, learning tour routes and the history of Savannah actively. I've got my history tour down so well that I'm going to start researching other tour routes so I don't get bored, giving the same tour over and over again. I hope that by the end of this year, I'll have downtown Savannah etched into my brain.
Yet I realize, I can't be a carriage driver forever. I work with people who have literally been doing this job for over a decade, and they are burned out. The money is good and the hours are convenient enough that it's hard for some of them to leave. So what about this job specifically appeals to me? Weirdly enough, this goes against my introverted self but...I think I love interacting with the people. Yes, it is tiring to put on a show for tourists up to six times a day, sometimes with a horse that is on the brink of a wild stallion-esq frenzy, but I love it. I've met people from all over the world, most of them with interesting things to say. I do have bad tours now and then--maybe they want to hear more jokes or more about the film industry in Savannah (like about Forrest Gump being filmed here), but I'm telling them about the city history because I think it's funnier. Maybe they want a ghost tour. My ghost tours are horrendous, I won't lie. But the majority of my day is spent talking to people who are either riveted by what I have to say, or will educate me because they are natives, finally exploring the tourist attractions of their city. And even though I seem to have grown up without the love of horses that most women seem genetically predisposed, I have come to love some of those buggers. They all have their own characters; the good and the bad. My favorite horse, Murphy, dances on his way home. I didn't even know horses could do that.
I think it's safe to say that I've learned more this summer than I have in the last year and a half at school. This is the first job I've ever had that feels more like a trade, and I love it.
Fortunately, I just found out that my Creative Writing class, which is independent study, will be forcing me into finally writing something extensive. My professor wants either a full chapter of a novel (30-50 pages) or a full short story by the end of the semester. That will help with the portfolio I'll have to provide for a master's program, if I do go that route. Who knows, maybe I will even get it published. Now I just have to think up a plot. My synopsis is due next week.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Friday, July 12, 2013
Is the American Experiment Over?
I'm scared. In fact, I'm terrified. There are those, like my dad, who say I'm over reacting. That our nation, the United States of America, is just going through some hard times--we will surely recover. My husband has put into words his thoughts on the matter, which I believe is definitely worth the read.
Every day I read about the threats our country's making, the deals they're striking, just to try and arrest the whistle-blower, Edward Snowden. I hope you all have been following these developments, because I think that this is a great example of how far we have fallen. One note in particular: China is asking the US to reconsider it's treatment of human rights activists--for the second time. Anyone remember Bradley Manning?
I remember Obama's first campaign. I remember watching a speech he made while sitting in high school. He promised transperancy, promised a health care system that would include everyone at no cost to Mr. and Mrs. Taxpayer.
Ha.
By next year, my husband and I will be scrambling to come up with the $500 fee (each) we will have to pay to get out of paying for full health care coverage. That $1000 will be cheaper than paying for the health care itself. More than anything, I'm scared that I won't be able to find a job. Or that my employer, a tiny carriage company, won't be able to keep me on. The idea of health care for everyone is definitely appealing, and I am all for it. Until it starts forcing company owners to stop hiring--even Walmart said they would stop employing people permanently just to get out of paying for health benefits. The prospect of being homeless is something I've had to face a few times in the last year, and I know there will be more of that to come in the future, especially if the job market gets any more competitive. I wonder if anyone running our country has ever felt that way.
And now we hear about the US spying not only in our backyards (and our computers), but all over the world, and that in order to be safe, we must sacrifice our liberties. Ben Franklin disagrees; "They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety." The US is alienating its own citizens, and the allies we have left in the world.
I don't want this to be an Obama hate-blog, because as much as I dislike him, he isn't the one to start it. But he sure isn't finishing it. What scares me is this: not being able to defend myself if, like Thomas Jefferson suggested, people decide it is time to 'water the tree of liberty.' What really scares me though, is if we, the people, decide that we'd rather just go back to watching Jersey Shore.
Every day I read about the threats our country's making, the deals they're striking, just to try and arrest the whistle-blower, Edward Snowden. I hope you all have been following these developments, because I think that this is a great example of how far we have fallen. One note in particular: China is asking the US to reconsider it's treatment of human rights activists--for the second time. Anyone remember Bradley Manning?
I remember Obama's first campaign. I remember watching a speech he made while sitting in high school. He promised transperancy, promised a health care system that would include everyone at no cost to Mr. and Mrs. Taxpayer.
Ha.
By next year, my husband and I will be scrambling to come up with the $500 fee (each) we will have to pay to get out of paying for full health care coverage. That $1000 will be cheaper than paying for the health care itself. More than anything, I'm scared that I won't be able to find a job. Or that my employer, a tiny carriage company, won't be able to keep me on. The idea of health care for everyone is definitely appealing, and I am all for it. Until it starts forcing company owners to stop hiring--even Walmart said they would stop employing people permanently just to get out of paying for health benefits. The prospect of being homeless is something I've had to face a few times in the last year, and I know there will be more of that to come in the future, especially if the job market gets any more competitive. I wonder if anyone running our country has ever felt that way.
And now we hear about the US spying not only in our backyards (and our computers), but all over the world, and that in order to be safe, we must sacrifice our liberties. Ben Franklin disagrees; "They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety." The US is alienating its own citizens, and the allies we have left in the world.
I don't want this to be an Obama hate-blog, because as much as I dislike him, he isn't the one to start it. But he sure isn't finishing it. What scares me is this: not being able to defend myself if, like Thomas Jefferson suggested, people decide it is time to 'water the tree of liberty.' What really scares me though, is if we, the people, decide that we'd rather just go back to watching Jersey Shore.
Sunday, June 23, 2013
My new love
I am in love with a beautiful thing. Her name: Doreen.
What seemed like a disaster has turned into a new and exciting chapter: John's Jeep died outside of Savannah on our way back from Ellijay a couple weeks back, and then yesterday, horror of horrors...my car started to stop working. We panicked. Well, I panicked. I bawled my eyes out after we finally got her home. What were we going to do? I sat on my tiny plastic white stool in our midnight blue kitchen, staring at a cobweb on the ceiling and the perspiration on the walls and I thought, "God, help us." Obviously losing both modes of transportation isn't the end of the world. People take public transit all the time to get around. But I was so sick of things going wrong, so sick of having to shell out all our saved money. Any time we scrounge together a few dollers, it goes right to a bill, an emergency, or groceries. I just wanted to get ahead. Not knowing what to do, I wiped the snot from my face and began washing dishes.
Unbeknownst to me, my husband was looking at Carmax, trying to find out if we could be financed for a car. He had come across a decently priced car, one that would have functioned like the Jeep (low gas mileage but a lot of space with 4 wheel drive). After making some calls, he found out we could get that financing. After doing a little bit more looking, he found Doreen. A Fiat 500 Pop (in other words, the most basic of the Fiat 500s) sat in the lot of the brand new Savannah Carmax. And we heard that we could get financing...with no money down. This was beneficial because...we are broke. Again. Living day to day. Again.
Anyway, fast forward to today. It wasn't until 9PM that John finally got behind the car of our new baby, and he loved it. The Fiats may be tiny cars, but they actually have more room inside (including trunk space) than a Mini. We fit inside comfortably. But, ladies and gents, this is not a car to be a passenger in. I'm not saying the ride is bad, because it is excellent, even in sports mode (yes, I said it, THERE IS A SPORT BUTTON!!!). It just feels so tame in the passenger seat. I enjoyed watching my husband's eyes light up in the darkness as we sped through town and out to Tybee Island. I was brushing my finger over the iPod, finding songs to test out our new sound system with. It has a Bose 10-speaker system with a sub-woofer. Did I mention it's a 2012? This is the newest car anyone in my family has ever owned. And then it was my turn. I wasn't expecting much--like I said, this is the base 500 model. Cheap, but still an Italian sports car. That's right: we own an Italian sports car. She's our little Ferrari.
Okay, so the ride is great. But this isn't the passenger sort of car. I touched the accelerator and she jumped forward, orange indicator on the dash telling me that I wasn't yet above 60, but I felt every twitch of the wheel, every slight motion of the tires. My hair whipped against my face, the windows down so we could smell the salt air. My eyes ignored the speedo and I stared only at the red lights in front of me so not to crash, not that stopping is an issue. A gentle kiss of the breaks is all she needs to come to a dead stop. John bellowed with laughter as I screamed, rounding a corner too fast. We came to a red light and I looked at my husband, my hair plastered to my face, and I realized I was grinning so hard my cheeks ached. Time and time again, I stomped the accelerator, just to feel the thrill of that 0-60 in 8 seconds. This is what's laughable: my Monte Carlo can do it faster. But I've never been able to FEEL that speed, FEEL the breaks, FEEL the acceleration, FEEL the road. I've always kind of hated driving. Sure, my Monte is fun to accelerate with, but that's it. Her handling sucks. She has the turning radius of a moon and her brakes are more like weak suggestions.
But Doreen. Doreen is a different animal. She is Italian. She was made to handle. And I love her. For once, I don't want to be the passenger. As the ocean breeze knotted my bangs together, I felt my nerve endings fire like never before. Speed. As minimal as it was (I was afraid to go too fast, the cops around Savannah and Tybee have been hitting everyone pretty hard), it was there, and I felt every MPH. When the turn came for me to go home, I hesitated. My fingers clutched at the wheel, and I almost didn't push the blinker into place. The road curved before me. Go, it whispered. Just go. Forget about school, about payments, about your home, about not making friends, about money. Go.
And then I hit the blinker.
What seemed like a disaster has turned into a new and exciting chapter: John's Jeep died outside of Savannah on our way back from Ellijay a couple weeks back, and then yesterday, horror of horrors...my car started to stop working. We panicked. Well, I panicked. I bawled my eyes out after we finally got her home. What were we going to do? I sat on my tiny plastic white stool in our midnight blue kitchen, staring at a cobweb on the ceiling and the perspiration on the walls and I thought, "God, help us." Obviously losing both modes of transportation isn't the end of the world. People take public transit all the time to get around. But I was so sick of things going wrong, so sick of having to shell out all our saved money. Any time we scrounge together a few dollers, it goes right to a bill, an emergency, or groceries. I just wanted to get ahead. Not knowing what to do, I wiped the snot from my face and began washing dishes.
Unbeknownst to me, my husband was looking at Carmax, trying to find out if we could be financed for a car. He had come across a decently priced car, one that would have functioned like the Jeep (low gas mileage but a lot of space with 4 wheel drive). After making some calls, he found out we could get that financing. After doing a little bit more looking, he found Doreen. A Fiat 500 Pop (in other words, the most basic of the Fiat 500s) sat in the lot of the brand new Savannah Carmax. And we heard that we could get financing...with no money down. This was beneficial because...we are broke. Again. Living day to day. Again.
Anyway, fast forward to today. It wasn't until 9PM that John finally got behind the car of our new baby, and he loved it. The Fiats may be tiny cars, but they actually have more room inside (including trunk space) than a Mini. We fit inside comfortably. But, ladies and gents, this is not a car to be a passenger in. I'm not saying the ride is bad, because it is excellent, even in sports mode (yes, I said it, THERE IS A SPORT BUTTON!!!). It just feels so tame in the passenger seat. I enjoyed watching my husband's eyes light up in the darkness as we sped through town and out to Tybee Island. I was brushing my finger over the iPod, finding songs to test out our new sound system with. It has a Bose 10-speaker system with a sub-woofer. Did I mention it's a 2012? This is the newest car anyone in my family has ever owned. And then it was my turn. I wasn't expecting much--like I said, this is the base 500 model. Cheap, but still an Italian sports car. That's right: we own an Italian sports car. She's our little Ferrari.
Okay, so the ride is great. But this isn't the passenger sort of car. I touched the accelerator and she jumped forward, orange indicator on the dash telling me that I wasn't yet above 60, but I felt every twitch of the wheel, every slight motion of the tires. My hair whipped against my face, the windows down so we could smell the salt air. My eyes ignored the speedo and I stared only at the red lights in front of me so not to crash, not that stopping is an issue. A gentle kiss of the breaks is all she needs to come to a dead stop. John bellowed with laughter as I screamed, rounding a corner too fast. We came to a red light and I looked at my husband, my hair plastered to my face, and I realized I was grinning so hard my cheeks ached. Time and time again, I stomped the accelerator, just to feel the thrill of that 0-60 in 8 seconds. This is what's laughable: my Monte Carlo can do it faster. But I've never been able to FEEL that speed, FEEL the breaks, FEEL the acceleration, FEEL the road. I've always kind of hated driving. Sure, my Monte is fun to accelerate with, but that's it. Her handling sucks. She has the turning radius of a moon and her brakes are more like weak suggestions.
But Doreen. Doreen is a different animal. She is Italian. She was made to handle. And I love her. For once, I don't want to be the passenger. As the ocean breeze knotted my bangs together, I felt my nerve endings fire like never before. Speed. As minimal as it was (I was afraid to go too fast, the cops around Savannah and Tybee have been hitting everyone pretty hard), it was there, and I felt every MPH. When the turn came for me to go home, I hesitated. My fingers clutched at the wheel, and I almost didn't push the blinker into place. The road curved before me. Go, it whispered. Just go. Forget about school, about payments, about your home, about not making friends, about money. Go.
And then I hit the blinker.
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