But I have never been much of a drinker

and at this bar, they don't serve herbal tea.

I'm at Water Street Coffee Joint right now. Drinking tea, as it were. I visited home this weekend. It had been a while and I hadn't been home for Thanksgiving in four years. I should have just waited for Christmas.

I wasn't feeling well. Good thing I'm having some relatively invasive (for me) tests done soon, huh? Once this whole health thing is sorted out, I'll be pleased. Or less annoyed. At the very least, I know my mood will change. I was overwhelmed when I was home. The questions of what I want to do and what I will do seem unending. And I never have a good answer because I don't know. It got to be too much when it turned into "if you don't get a job soon, all that time and money you spent learning will go to waste." And maybe they mean well but I don't think it's necessary to throw one's shortcomings in one's face. Not when that shorter-than-preferred individual is your daughter. I cried a little, slept a little and got over it. I talked to my dad about that for a while. And he told me that my feelings of inadequacy are from within me and nowhere else. Well, it's a good thing he knows I'm crazy. Otherwise, that would have been awkward.

Right, I never really updated about the doctor. I'm not sure how much detail I really want to go into on this thing. Um. I was put on antibiotics for the cough because the allergy medication hadn't done anything. I just finished my five day "Z pack" and am still coughing. It's not as bad as it was one week ago and I suppose that's all I can really ask for. As far as other health issues go, I have to get a few tests done. One of those tests is an allergy test, which shouldn't be too bad. They will only be drawing blood to check. Good. I didn't want a million itchy pinpricks anyway. It's the other test I'm a little worried about. I'll be getting a call in about a week to set up an appointment for that. Not. Excited.

Perhaps because of the conversation with my dad or the general displeasure I've had with my life, I've decided to get off my ass and do something. I will plan my future. At least parts of it. And I will do it. I'm going to start actually looking at real jobs and potential graduate schools again. Really. And I realize what I need is not someone to tell me what to do, no. What I need is encouragement to suck it up and keep going until I figure out what will make me happy. And then I'll need a kick in the ass to do it. If you're reading, consider this your commission to do so. Please.

In general, I think I'm a person who needs encouragement when things get tough. Not always, I think. Just when I think I can't do something. Lately, that's been often. Lately, that's been more often than I care for. More often than I care to mention. I don't really have a newfound sense of self. I just want to get off my ass and be the person I know I can be. The person I want to be. I'm sure this sounds like something I've said or written before. And I might do nothing about it. But I'd prefer not to. Thus, I will do something. I feel something moving and I'm going with it. I'd like to think it's more than just a change in the wind's direction. Even if it isn't more than that, I'm moving anyway. And I feel a little closer. And I feel a little more disconnected.

Getting home and back was a series of unfortunate events followed by fortuitous events (read: blessings). I was going to take the bus home. I bought a ticket and everything and my roommate took me to the station at five in the morning. The bus drove by and I was propositioned by a Devonne. (I will elaborate in a moment.) I call my roommate and she picked me back up at six when I realized the bus wasn't coming back. I slept until nine when my dad texted me. This resulted in my trying to get on the phone with Greyhound and not succeeding. I did manage to wake up my roommate's boyfriend, however. He peeked in my room and asked if it was Detroit that I was trying to get to. (It was.) And was I having any luck? (I was not.) As it turns out, his parents were headed right that way. He made a phone call but there was no answer. So I got back into bed. A moment later, they called back and asked if I had any other options. (Okay, I could have driven but I've been a serious nervous wreck lately. Really, it was not an option.) He told his parents no without really waiting for my response. Yeah, so they turned around and were at my apartment within ten minutes, ready to take me, a girl they've never met before, to the other side of the state. My dad picked me up at a freeway exit near our house. On Saturday, a winter storm advisory was issued (rightly so) and my dad wanted me to get a train ticket back. The ticket was sixty-two dollars and I just wanted to make absolutely sure. As I was getting ready to type in a credit card number, I get a message from my friend Julia and call her back. In the midst of our talking, she mentions her friend Laura doesn't live far from where my parents are and could probably pick me up and take me back. As it turns out, she can, and does. Laura is a really great person. That all being said, I got to Detroit and back to Kalamazoo safely. Although, I suppose you already knew that since I ranted about being home earlier.

The short story of Devonne(s) (dεvIn) in my life is this: (And, yes, I have changed the spelling.) I attract a certain sort of male. The first one I really told friends about was named Devonne (total assumption as far as spelling goes) and the tradition lives on. One Devonne tried to pick me up at a job interview. Another one used the fact that he had a baby mama named Theresa as his bait. The interaction with Devonne at the bus station went as such:

(I had just gotten off the phone with my roommate and she was on her way to pick me up.)

(D)evonne: (Stares at me for a solid minute) Are you cold?
(T)Me: (Staring straight ahead and make no eye contact whatsoever) A little.
(D): Are you from around here?
(T): No. (Yes, I know that's a lie.)
(D): Where are you from?
(T): Detroit. (Where the bus is going!)
(D): I know a place that's warm.
(T): (Blank stare.)
(D): It's only about a block from here.
(T): (Pause.) No thanks.
(D): (Walks away, shouting about not going far from the station.)

Man, was I glad when my roommate showed up. I would like to point out that the main reason this interaction counts as a Devonne interaction is that I had not spoken to this person and gave him no reason to do so. Also, he fits all the other criteria. But I suppose I can go into that later. I've written quite a bit. I've got to get to calling a friend.

And please forgive me if I leave you feeling uninspired.

-Theresa

Will I Always Feel This Way?

Not if I sleep for twelve hours in one night.

I woke up in a considerably better mood today than I have been lately. I didn't hang out with anyone. I watched a movie, read a bit, wrote a poem and went to sleep. Great decision, I think.

I like the poem I wrote last night. Proud isn't the right word, but it's the first one that comes to mind. Too much Palahniuk.

I'm going home Thursday morning. Bright and early for Thanksgiving. I haven't been home for Thanksgiving since 2004. This will be interesting.

I found a month-long publishing program in Denver. It's almost exactly what I'm looking for in terms of training and whatnot. It's supposed to prepare people for jobs in publishing and help those in school for library/information science, among other things. The downfall? It's a month-long program that costs more than $4000. And no, they don't offer financial aide since the program is so short.

I'm actually researching programs and possibilities for my life. And I may even retake the GRE soon. We'll see. I wasn't happy with my verbal score. But that was totally my fault.

Potential things to go to school for:

Arabic Sociolinguistics
Publishing
Editing
Teaching
Library Science
Applied Linguistics
Professional Mix CD maker.

Now, where do I go?

My limited reader base, if you would, make me up a life plan and leave it in a comment. It doesn't even have to reasonable. Okay, thanks.

-Theresa

Searching for Reasons

And missing the seasons.

Went on a road trip, sort of. Spent more time on the roads than with people. Met some really great people but was in a very introspective mood. Learned my fear of driving is way worse than it was before. It had been a bit better. Now, it's way worse. I felt terrible because the friend I went with did all the driving. Really. I suck.

I really need to suck it up and make a choice and do something. Can I say that I'm tired of acting alone? I'm tired of acting alone.

I don't think our lives are meant to be lived alone. We need friends and people and love. Need. We need those things. And if I just move somewhere, I will have none of those things. If I stay here, same story.

I refuse to stay in Kalamazoo next year. And I won't move home. Isn't there somewhere I belong?

In bed.

How did I end up feeling this lonely? I need a hobby. Or a cat. Or tequila.

Seeing Jamie and Chris was great. I wish there had been more time. Coming back to work feels like a waste of time.

In the future, I would like:

a purpose.
a career.
a husband.
a family.
no debt.
joy.
to live in the petal house.
to be able to play guitar.
the ability to drive on the free way just like everyone else.

I feel worse about things when my shortcomings effect other people.

I'd say I was sorry but I'm just not sure for what.

On the car ride back, I wrote the beginnings of six different pieces. It might have been talking to Justin and Natalie that helped. It probably was.

The Avett Brothers show was great.

Oops. I guess I sound sad.

-Theresa

A reminder:

Take care of yourself, he said and continued. Because no one else will.

I never learned to count my blessings.

It's really easy to get caught up in a negative mindset. Today's truths are brought to you by things I like about myself and other random thoughts.

I am able to pick myself up after every heap I fall into.
I often keep my tears from falling out when I cry. When I am drinking, I cry more openly.
Talking myself out of things is not heard of. I both love and hate my ability to do this.
I am an awkward, awkward individual.
I wish I was closer to my family, emotionally.
I am honest.
I have started to hate analogies when talking about real life. Just use real terms.
I want to play guitar and I want to play it well.
Trust is strange. I think I have a hard time trusting others. In actuality, I trust the people in my life too willingly.
I love hugs. I need more hugs.
Chris Bathgate and Michael Beauchamp are both amazing musicians.
It's often easier to talk to someone you know nothing about. And who knows nothing about you.
Sometimes, I just need time.
There are a lot of things I'd give right now to feel content.
I would give everything to be content.
Should those be switched?

I feel drained by work. I don't know why I expected working all the time to feel any different than doing anything else all the time. I do wish I felt like I was working toward some sort of life goal. At some point, I did feel that way. At some point, I was.

Do we still talk? I spent a bit of time on the phone yesterday and that question came up in every conversation. Are we friends? Yes. On all accounts.

Noted.

Thank you for being there when I have needed you.

Two unfortunate truths in one.

Yesterday was not a day that began all that out of the ordinary. I walked to work. A friend needed a ride to her car so I walked back to my car between shifts in order to pick her up. On my way home, I (my arm) was hit by a car.

I am a cautious person. When it comes to crossing the road, I look both ways and plan the route with the least likely chance of getting hit. I lived in Egypt for a while, and if you know anything about crossing roads in middle eastern countries, you can imagine what that was like. Though I am a careful crosser, I usually depend on my own devices more than I do the suggestions of others for when it is safe to begin a journey elsewhere. I often ignore the robots. Yesterday, I followed the two other women who crossed the road and I believed the Light Man's insistence that my time had come to cross this street and be on the other side with him.

For these reasons, I was hit. The Man in the Green Car must have sensed I was following what others insisted rather then following my own instincts. I threw my arms out in protest of him going any further. I managed to cross far enough that, during his out-of-turn right turn, he only really hit my left arm. I leaned so he didn't wipe my legs out from under me. I stopped. I looked back. He paused and made sure I was still standing. And from there, we continued on the separate paths we had previously been following. The two women who had crossed moments before me were on the corner I'd been trying so desperately to reach in one piece. They asked how I was and, in shock, I assured them I would be okay. I just wasn't expecting it because I thought I'd been reading the signs correctly. I paused and I thought about crying. And I held it in because I always do. Always refusing to acknowledge I've been hurt. The Man in the Green Car will go on with his life. It wasn't in his plans to hit me and he will feel no remorse. Well, it wasn't in my plans to get hit but it happened anyway. And, of course, I am again changed. He might be more careful but will probably just chalk it up to a fluke in loss of attention to detail.

I am a cautious person. When it comes to getting hurt, I have highly refined methods of self defense. Yesterday, they meant nothing. Today, I am aware I have been hurt. The trying task of keeping the phone to my ear has served as a reminder.

Do nothing and life will happen anyway. React. At least that way, you are blameless for the outcome.

I am okay. I am always okay.

It's the after party.

It was a good birthday, I think. I got to celebrate with lots of my friends. And they came in shifts so I got to talk to everyone. I went to the doctor, put air in my tires and started cooking. I think I cooked for about seven hours straight. And I loved every minute of it. The menu included cucumber yogurt stuff, cucumber tomato salad, hummus, Mexican dip, rice, curry potatoes in red stuff, curry chicken, and a sort of stir fry. I ran out of the good curry. There was also cheesecake and candy. And booze. But I didn't make those things. I don't feel twenty-three. I don't know what twenty-three feels like.

Doctor gave me allergy medications and a cream for the thing on my neck. She also gave me instructions to get a full physical. Not excited. The thing on my neck is starting to go away. The cough is not as bad all the time. That's good.

It seemed like I had more to say.

After the party.

Had a good birthday party. Good people. Good music. Good times.

I'm going to the doctor tomorrow. My cough got worse. And there's a thing on my neck. Seems about that time I started taking care of my body and whatnot.

I'm frustrated with my jobs. I work at the writing center at a community college. I guess I don't like helping people who won't help themselves. It's not helping. It's doing someone else's work for them. There were quite a few people in today who just wanted me to do their work for them. Today, I played tough love and told people that I could only help them get the grade they were willing to put the time in for. If you don't care about the work you are doing, I won't either. Don't tell me you don't care what grade you get. I will send you away if there are other people waiting to be helped. That's not fair to anyone.

Other job... A guy came in and asked where a newspaper was. I showed him. His kid knocked about ten to fifteen other newspapers on the floor. He says, "I couldn't have done it better myself." He looks through the paper he wanted. And then throws it on top of the pile his kid created. Walking away, he says, "thanks for your help." To which I respond, "thanks for cleaning up after yourself."

A public forum is not a good place to complain about work. So, I'm stopping.

I was super grumpy today. And then Eana sat down and talked to me. Now, I feel better. Maybe I just needed someone to talk to me. We're getting drinks after work. That will be good. Also, I think it helps when someone understands exactly what you think and feel about something. Do you think I could get more vague? Maybe I wonder if things get better if anyone knows anything about stuff. Yeah, that was more vague, I think.

I'm having a birthday dinner tomorrow. I'm waking up, going to the doctor and then cooking my little heart's content. I bought all the stuff already. I guess it's not really dinner. It's more of an all day spread. Lots of food. Lots of love. I hope.

There's my general update of what's going on. Okay, bye.

-Theresa

Samson Went Back to Bed

Working at the library. There's a guy right in front of me listening to Regina Spektor. I am pleased. I didn't expect it either. It's a welcome vacation from the rhythmic thumpings that are usually going on. Actually, they're going on too. I can just ignore them better when Regina is by my side.

It's about that time I looked into a doctor, huh? Well, I'll get on it. I guess I get to keep my health insurance for one more year. I didn't make enough last year. Well, good.

The election? I didn't vote. Am I pleased with the outcome for the president elect? Yes. Do I want to keep talking about it? No.

I gave up on reading Rushdie for the time being and have moved on to Kafka. So far, I am surprised.

I am often surprised to find out the regard in which I am being held by others. A friend gave me keys to her apartment last night. Another friend hasn't canceled plans once. Another asked me to get his stuff because he was too busy.

My life has become too stagnant for my liking. I need more adventure. I think I'll need to make that happen on my own. I'm going on a road trip 20 November. Instead of going home. I think we're ending up in North Carolina. I wish I had another eleven days and seven thousand miles to travel. Those were a good eleven days. These will be a good three.

To encourage me to be more adventurous, I am trying to feel less bad about taking time off work. And deferring my student loans. I could handle the payments. And that would be all I could handle. So, I'm not going to do it right now. But, I will pay the interest. That will at least keep me from getting behind.

Birthday party on Saturday. Michael Beauchamp is playing. Quite a few people have RSVPed. I'm pretty excited about it. My sister is coming to visit too. Tuesday, I'm going to wake up and starting cooking. And drinking. Tuesday, I will be twenty-three. It's not the older that scares me. It's the directionless that does.

It's hard to find meaning in everything. Sometimes, anything. Should I keep looking? Or should I believe an old king of Jerusalem when he says, "Everything is meaningless"?

Apparently, the guy sitting in front of me is a girl. Oops.

I shouldn't be tired. Of course, I am. Maybe I'll just get back to reading?

Oh, The Avett Brothers are good.

-Theresa

What kind of camera should I get?

Things always happen when you least expect them. That doesn't make them untimely.

I'm in the market for a new camera. Mine was stolen in May. It's about that time I bit the bullet and invested in one. I mean, I guess I like the freedom of not really having to worry about taking pictures. But sometimes I just want them. Or I want to play with graphics on my computer and how can I do that without a computer? So, I want a camera. What kind should I get? All you technocrats out there should do the research for me and let me know, please. Thanks.

I found my list of life lists. Most of everything on them is still true. I should look those over and see what I'm going to do at the end of my apartment lease. Rather, I should figure something out soon and figure out what I'm doing with my life. Does everyone worry this much about what they're going to do?

-Theresa