On Music: A Reflection

Tonight, I'm listening to music...And not ridiculous love songs, lonesome country songs, or angry cheating songs but rather instrumental music-- music that speaks volumes without a single lyric in the entire album.  Music is magic and transports the soul.  Tonight, I've traveled to Hogwarts (Harry Potter, Williams), Georgia (Gone with the Wind, Steiner), and Westeros (Game of Thrones, Djawadi), sailed on the high seas (Pirates of the Caribbean, Baldet), and visited every corner of Middle-Earth (LOTR, Shore).  I've experienced a hundred different cultures through music:  I've listened the downfalls of ruler, the magic wroght by elves, the victory of battles, and the Return of the King. I love this music, and tonight's reflection is brought about because I had forgotten just how much I loved this music.  

I have spent the last few months wading through the mundane everyday that is work and home life.  I felt as though I have had  nothing important to say, despite the recent holidays, family get-togethers, and less than encouraging chaos that has been my workplace these last few weeks.  New Year's Eve came and went (I slept through the ball dropping in NYC.....oops), and my resolutions have already been blown to hell (*gasp* what a shocker!).  I haven't been to see my mare as often as I always plan to.  I hardly do anything outside of work and filling out job applications at home (which thus far have come to no avail).  A few nights I managed to drag myself from my warm bed to go view some of the more fantastic night sky events just to find myself staring into a cloudy, polluted sky. :( I've been kind of discouraged by the lack of exciting activity in my life, and then, tonight I began to listen to music again.  

I forgot how movie scores brought out so many emotions in me.  In high school, I could listen to the same soundtrack for weeks straight, over and over again, and find the melodies, the harmonies, the dramatic swells and the trumpeting main themes as fascinating as the first time the tunes touched my ears.  I'd forgotten how I would close my eyes and melt into the music, only to open my eyes again and see clearly the world that was being depicted, as though I were standing on the deck of Jack Sparrow's beloved Pearl or riding across Rohan's plains at Aragorn's side.  I had forgotten how the music would pull forth emotion that I hadn't felt or had ignored for months.  Tonight I remembered that, and damn, it feels so good. 

It's amazing to me that something as simple as going back through my endless playlists and listening to those soundtracks has wiped away the dull, emotionless march of my day and made me begin to feel more.  Suddenly, I'm not as discouraged about the lack of response to my resumes (I'll keep at it and something will happen!). I can now fully suppress the urge to scream in the middle of the lobby at work when I feel like the sheer amount of B.S. being said by superiors is threatening to drown me (this, I'm sure will be a temporary fix; the permanent one is to find another job). I feel like some of my more imaginative plans for my future just might have a little more merit than they did yesterday (who knows?).  There's a quote about music that I found when looking up some stuff for this reflection that really nailed how I feel about my recent reintroduction to the magic of instrumental music: 

"Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life."  ~Berthold Auerbach

I'm not one hundred percent sure who this intelligent person is, or what his accomplishments were in life, however I don't think I've ever found a quote about music to be more truthful.   While I'm still unsure of where I'm going to "end up" with a career, a living space, and roommates/spouse/animals, I'm not as threatened by that uncertainty as I was just a week ago.  It's obvious that when I become overwhelmed by these pesky unanswerable questions, listening to my music veils them, if only for a few beautifully melodic moments.  I used to listen to music often, everyday, for many hours, whether walking, jogging, horseback riding, reading, writing, or completing homework.  And then, a couple years ago, I just kind of quit listening. Hardships were only magnified by my music that had that knack for bringing more emotion to the surface.  It brought back memories that I didn't want to remember.  So I stopped listening.

I'm shaking my head as I type, and I'm thinking, "Never stop listening, you stupid girl."  Music runs through my family's blood. We're working on our third generation of musicians (my little nephew can already sing the themes to movies such as Superman and Star Wars- they have raised him well).  No matter what, I shouldn't have stopped listening.  But if I hadn't stopped, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to rediscover my passion for it.  And, oh, how I love it.  Every single note.  Listening to this beautiful music is like listening to the emotions that I can't otherwise express.  Cue second, extremely appropriate quote about music made by yet another intelligent human being:

"After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music." ~Aldous Huxley

I made plenty of resolutions to ring in the new year (most of which I've long broken).  Tonight, I've resolved to never be without this music again, even with any hardships to come.  I feel like I've gained back a part of myself that has been lost for the last few years.  I feel like I've gained some momentum in my plans for the coming year. I've definitely regained some positivity (which, if you ask my mother, I am forever lacking).  I've gained an outlet for my frustration and a means to express my emotions when my writing fails me, which had become a more recent occurrence of late.  I've regained determination and have finally begun to edit my novella, something that I hope to expand to a novel and see in print one of these days.  Things are looking up, and I'm sure that listening to "He's a Pirate" from POTC and hearing Johnny Depp's voice say, "Bring me that horizon," as I conclude this post has everything to do with this new positive outlook.

P.S.  I Googled Berthold Auerbach, and he is a poet/author from the 1800's. A pretty interesting dude. 

Remembering

It's been quite some time since I've taken up my pen for the sake of this blog (first drafts are always handwritten) and once again I have no valid excuse for it.  I've been hoping something extraordinary and spectacular would happen to provide you with an interesting read, but nothing of the sort has happened, so I suppose I will start with the weather.  

Summer has ended here in the West Virginian mountains, and most of the trees have already shed their leaves for winter.  Like most West Virginians, I can give a thousand reasons as to why each season is my favorite. There's something that tugs at my spiritual heartstrings when I witness the rebirth of nature and the return of color to our hills in the spring. There's a rush of anticipation, the renewal of grand potential, and an excitement for the upcoming warm, bright days that is contagious in my hometown.  Summer not only houses days full of sunlight but also warm nights perfect for stargazing.  It is a season full of outdoor activities:  hiking, camping, river swimming, and horseback riding.  A chance to release the conserved energy from winter, summer, to me is freedom.  By September, anxiety over the coming winter sets in.  I frantically spend every good day outdoors, knowing that the weather will turn soon enough.  I dread the impending cold, dark nights and shorter days, the preparation for nature's extended slumber, and the cold cold cold.  This anxiety, however, is short lived, and October arrives spreading a patch quilt of scarlet, gold, pumpkin and sunshine over my once green mountains.  The Mountain State Forest Festival comes and goes, the colorful mountains peak mid-month, and then the autumnal rains begin to fall, loosing the leaves until the mountains stand bare.  And so begins my favorite two months of the calendar year.  I love Thanksgiving as much as I love Christmas, and the time seems to blend from one season into the next.  I've already spent time talking to coworkers about holiday decorations this year.  And of course, as we begin to greet the holidays this year, my banking customers have already been telling me in their sometimes charming country accents, "Yup, winter's a comin', dear, yu'll see."  (It would be more entertaining if they realized the TV/Book nerd inside of me rejoiced at hearing the Stark family phrase fifty plus times a day.  Alas, most of them have never even heard of Game of Thrones, let alone the genius that created the Starks' world.)  Soon the snow will fly and my customers will move onto a new favorite phrase that can only be considered witty the first ten times I hear it.

This weekend Halloween arrives, bringing with it a new beginning for two of my close friends, an evening to enjoy good music and good company, and an unfortunate anniversary.

For one year, this small candle has been a sentinel to my "English-major-encouragement" fairy, a reminder of an evening spent amidst a crowd of grieving college students, acquaintances and friends.  I'll never forget that candlelight vigil.  I hope no one else in this world ever has to harbor the memories of mourning a lost friend, memories that I know every person at that vigil will carry for the rest of their lives.  Today has been a tough day, not because of work or weekend plans or from planning my "big picture," but because I have experienced one whole year that a friend of mine will never get to experience. He didn't get to graduate, to spend the holidays with his family, or go camping with friends after the summer arrived.  But I did.  Today I thought about all those things I've done, those things he won't be able to do, and the talent, the wonderful personality, that was lost on this night last year.  My heart broke all over again for the family, the close friends, and the world to lose such a wonderful person.  His candle stays next to my inspiration, reminding me that if I want to make even a fraction of the mark he left on this world, I cannot give up on my dreams as absurd as they may be.

This season, and all the others in the future, give me the chance to be who I really want to be.  I must keep writing my stories and riding those horses.  I must remember how lucky I am to have what some never will- time. 
 

West Virginia Summers

The last few weeks I've really gotten quite nostalgic about all of the awesome outdoor adventures I've taken recently during my summers in the hills of West Virginia.  It's led to to formation of a "Summer Bucket List" with a good friend that includes swimming in rivers, hitting quite a few campsites, and hiking some new trails in neighboring counties. The mountains have a lot to offer. :)  This blog is going to mostly be made from pictures of the beautiful places I've been during my West Virginia summers, with some of the most beautiful people in my life.

I found this with a friend in the woods while hiking along one of the river just outside Elkins. The view of the river nearby was breathtaking. 

Barbour County houses the amazing Audra State Park, a favorite place for my friends and I to camp and swim.

In Canaan Valley, I worked as a horseback trail guide.  This was the view I saw almost every single day. Best. Job. Ever.

 

Beyond Canaan Valley, near the small towns of Davis and Thomas, is Blackwater Falls State Park.  I will never forget learning how to dance with an older man my mother and I happened to run into during our visit.  The Falls were memorable that day too. 

In between Elkins and Canaan is Spruce Knob, which I had only visited for my first time a couple years ago.

 At the lake, I found a patch of blueberries that were delicious.

 Spruce Knob is the highest point in WV- and man, does it provide a beautiful view. 

On the other side of Allegheny Mountain is Seneca Rocks, where my aunt and uncle live on a beautiful farm.

As a horsewoman, plenty of my summer is spent in the saddle, with friends near Morgantown and even right at home.  This picture of my girlfriends and I documents one of the best trail rides I've ever been on.  We rode to the Cheat River, had lunch and swam in the river, and then rode the horses back to the farm.

Of course, my horse, Kit, stars in most of my summer activities.  She's a great best friend. 

Even the panhandle offers beautiful views as my home away from home.  This is Dam #4 on the Potomac River, a favorite place of mine to go sit, read, write, and watch someone fish. 

Today, I will make my way to the panhandle again for my first camping adventure of the season.  It's occurring much later than I would have liked, but it definitely won't be the last.  I'm so terribly excited to set camp up once again!!!  I hope everyone is having a fantastic summer with awesome adventures of their own!!

"She needs to sort out her priorities."

I had to take some time off from a lot of things, particularly people, to reflect on some serious stuff after my last visit to the panhandle at the end of May, but that doesn't mean that plenty of things haven't been going on in my life.  Examples??  My best friend got married, the Triple Crown was lost AGAIN, my sister gave me a week at the Outer Banks in a mansion of a beach house for my birthday, my father was pleasantly surprised by his new grill that we bought for when he moves to Preston County this weekend, and some temporary changes at my current place of employment have made my life a tad easier.  In fact, so many things have happened since my "official graduation" that I wasn't sure I could get it all in one post without boring everyone to death (which I fear I may still do despite my effort not to).

The beginning of June marked the marriage of my best friend Whitney to her beloved, Asa.  Never in this world have two people loved one another the way these two love each other. 

It was a beautiful thing, being a part of the ceremony and watching these lovely people commit themselves to one another.  The entire wedding party was made up of the most wonderful people, and I was truly blessed to spend just a few days with them.  It was the most at home I've felt, the most hopeful, since December.  Their happiness was positively contagious, and it rekindled my motivation to make my own happiness, whether by moving, chasing my dream career, or just making the changes I've been yearning for. 

That determination led me to the events that made last week absolutely crazy in both small and very large ways.  First, the small:  I've had severe back pain that comes in cycles for the past two to three years (I can't pinpoint a time, so that's an estimation) and on occasion it becomes too painful to walk or sit up in bed.  Last week, I finally scheduled a doctor's appointment that resulted in x-rays and an order for physical therapy.  The x-ray results are in, and tomorrow I'll hopefully find out what's going on and see what can be done to fix it.  Crazy occurrences of the large variety consisted of being offered an exciting part time position at a trail stable, finding a place to live in the eastern panhandle that is as close to affordable as I'm going to get in that area, being given a trip to the Outer Banks for my birthday, and then giving up both the apartment and the trail guide job in light of a change at my current workplace that has already benefited me. 

Let me take just a second to squeal over the Outer Banks beach visit.  I was ridiculously spoiled last year by spending time not only on the beach in Ocean City, MD but also in Samara, Costa Rica.  And as fantastic as both of those trips were, this one may trump them simply because some of the people that I care about most in this world is going on this trip with me.  We'll be staying in this castle of a place in Rodanthe, and I couldn't be more excited. 

"Castle" is even part of its name!!

Giving up the trail guide position was really difficult, but without a second job I wouldn't have been able to afford moving in order to begin riding in July.  Honestly, it's a damn shame because trail guiding is something I love and something I miss dearly.

As for the apartment, it hasn't been completely ruled out yet, and part of me hopes that it remains available until I am ready to move in the event that one of my other options doesn't work out (though I'm hoping like crazy one of them will!).  My last visit to Shepherdstown really kicked me into thinking long and hard about this aspect of my life, and I began asking questions like, How much can I really afford, Who could I live with and not lose my mind, Where do I really want to live, and most importantly, Why go back to this area???

 Though I couldn't answer all of those questions well, others had resounding answers. Why?  I love this area, I want to get my degree in Environmental Science, I can make a career I love here, and, finally, it's where I am happy, most of the time.  For me, the most important thing when considering my impending move was that I wasn't tying my decisions to the people in the area (friends, professors, family, etc.).  In the end, the people will come and go. They're unreliable and unstable- this I saw explicitly during my last visit there- and my happiness should not hinge upon who my friends are and what mood they may or may not be in...  Because the thing about people is they're human.  They have their own lives to run, and relying upon them in my own life will only lead to unhappiness for us both.  This is kind of my theme for this post, as it related to some other things that happened this weekend. 

At least once a day, this thought crosses my mind:  Almost everyone I know has something about their life figured out, except for me.  Or at least that's how I felt until I finally spoke with a high school friend this weekend and found out that she was feeling the exact same way that I was.  Returning home after graduation was a financially sound decision for me, but that didn't stop me from feeling like a failure for the last seven months (particularly recently). I'm in a town where the cultural ignorance nearly drives me mad, the "dating scene" is so horrific that I haven't even bothered making an effort, and I'm employed (thank god) at a place where my degree is sitting idly, just waiting to be put to use.  The funny thing about this attitude? I'm far from the only person dealing with these issues.  In fact, a large portion of my stress recently has been a lack of a social life because the other people my age (the ones I care enough about to be around) are too busy trying to figure out how much in rent they can afford a month and how much would be left over for groceries.  We're all too busy trying to figure out our own lives that we have resorted to social media (a freaking sad excuse for a friendship, let me tell you) as our main form of contact with one another.  And while it is important to figure out how much rent you can afford before having to get hired as a farmhand in order to make it to the end of your lease, I found out this weekend that sometimes just interacting with someone who is dealing with the same major decisions as you are makes a big difference. 

As one Buzzfeed list said about life after graduation- in order to see your friends, you actually have to make a sincere effort.  And in this world where we're all trying to figure our own stuff out, sometimes those efforts go unnoticed.  I know I have ignored them in the past, and I've most certainly been ignored.  I guess what I'm trying to say is that while everyone is working on making your own happiness, don't forget that it's easier to deal with the stress of reaching your goals when you have people to relate to, real friends that will encourage one another, not excommunicate or (even worse) berate one another.  Remember to sort out your priorities while stepping away from the college life and into the "real world" life (for lack of a better way to describe the everyday mundane life as part of the work force). I did, and the decisions I made last week, such as remaining at my current workplace until the end of October rather than leaving earlier and keeping options for living arrangements open (while deciding that others are just not going to work, regardless of how much money I'd save), reflect those reorganized priorities. Ron would be so proud.

The End of Volume One: "Official" Graduation Weekend

The first degree has been completed.

 

I walked across that graduation stage this weekend long with thousands of college students in the United States.  I wore the stifling cap and gown, the tassel with the wrong year on it, the Shepherd University stole (which is the correct spelling, despite my disbelief), the child-like Honors Program medal, and the colorful cords for Who's Who in American Colleges and Universities and Sigma Tau Delta.  I received the empty diploma cover, shook the school president's hand, and tried to take the speeches about the unlimited future to heard.  As I was walking back to my seat with the empty diploma cover in my hands, I realized that the university officials had lined us all up, herded us through the school, and hurried us across the stage so efficiently that I couldn't even recall whether or not I smiled when shaking the president's hand, nor did I recognize who handed me that $30,000 cover.  I don't remember thinking, "I'm done," or "I did it!"  I couldn't take the speeches about, "Now we start in the real world," to heart-  I've been in the real world for over six months already.  I won't look back on this day and remember posing with the cover or with a plethora of college friends.  

Instead, it will be the less conventional things that I plan to remember:

I will remember awkwardly watching the other students (who all seemed to know one another) run around excitedly before line up snapping graduation selfies and how much better I felt after lining up with my fellow English graduates.  I will remember the rain alternate graduation route taking many of us on our first real tour of the Wellness Center, which we've had access to for the last four years.  (The pool was very nice, and the locker rooms were quite festive!)  I'll remember all of us poking fun at the sheer amount of stifling pomp and circumstance.  I will always remember my favorite part of the ceremony-- walking past all of the English professors and receiving a hug from my Creative Writing teacher/advisor/friend. I'll never forget the girl behind me almost giving me a concussion when she slapped a spider off of my cap in the middle of the ceremony (apparently he was heading for the neck of my graduation gown).  In case she didn't succeed in giving me the head injury, the Communications graduates ensured a few by producing beach balls that pelted everyone after the hat toss.  

I'll remember that the actual ceremony was my least favorite part of this awesome graduation weekend.  When I arrived in Shepherdstown at nine o'clock on Thursday evening, I was convinced I had just survived the most aggravating day ever (until I met a resilient couple hiking the Appalachian Trail that hiked over four hours to a car without their keys and a flat tire).  My plans to have a "relaxing drink" with a friend at our favorite Shepherdstown pub turned into a party with a dozen friends and at least a dozen entertaining strangers (hence the hiking couple).  From there, the weekend just continued to get better.  Friday, my friend and I walked the streets of Shepherdstown goofing off and eating at our favorite places until my family arrived that afternoon.  The partying really started with the arrival of my mother, aunt, and sister.  We went on one of the largest shopping sprees to ever hit the Hagerstown Premium Outlets.  We laughed for hours, two sets of sisters running around together.  That Saturday morning, my father arrived in town in time for a nap while we ladies spent the morning on German Street in Shepherdstown.  After the ceremony, we all gathered for dinner where my family got to me two of my best friends.  Cards were disbursed and tears were shed.  A Sweet Frog visit was the icing on the cake (or the topping on the frozen yogurt if you will) for the graduation family celebration.  My father and sister drove home after dinner, leaving my mother, my aunt, and I to our adventures in Harper's Ferry. That great evening ended with a fun visit to the Devonshire English pub, a peaceful walk to the river, and getting to witness my first shooting star in years (something exciting and unexpected). 



I spent Mother's Day climbing around the hills at Harper's Ferry with family and another great friend. 

My mother, who is afraid of heights, not only crossed the bridge from West Virginia to Maryland but also hiked the path to Jefferson's Rock. 

It was a beautiful day, and man, am I terribly sunburned. By the time we returned to Elkins Sunday night around seven we were all dead on our feet.  

To track the driving I did this weekend looks a bit like this:  From Elkins to Shepherdstown (SH), to Charles Town (CT), to SH, to CT, to SH, to Hagerstown, to SH, to CT, to SH, to Harper's Ferry to SH back to Elkins.  WHEW.

So it was a crazy, fun weekend full of some fantastic surprises.  When I left Shepherdstown for the final time, the radio was playing Eric Church's "Give Me Back My Hometown." My initial thought was, "Soon.  I'm gonna be back here very very soon."  As it turns out, I was right.  My friend is getting married in the Eastern Panhandle next week.  So I'll be back very soon. And very soon, I'll be back for good. The first degree is completed.  In January, the work for the second one will begin. 

Woodpecker Lane, Wedding Showers, and Vet Clinics

SO MANY WEDDINGS.  They're everywhere.  I believe I know more than ten people that have either recently gotten engaged or will be married in the next twelve months.  It's fantastic and an extremely hopeful experience to witness the love of all these people.  My second sister, my best friend since kindergarten, is getting married in two months and then frolicking off to vet school.  I couldn't be happier for her, and I've been absolutely honored to be a member of her wedding party. All of her plans are lovely, one hundred percent her and her fiance.  June 7th can't arrive soon enough.  A few weeks ago, some of my favorite people in the world gathered to celebrate their union and grace the beautiful bride with gifts to start their new life together in Mississippi.  These lovely ladies that were some of my closest friends in middle and high school have grown over the past five years into beautiful women that I'm absolutely honored to know. My weekend with them was unbelievably refreshing and exciting as we all talked about our plans for the future.

The weekend after the one spent with these "beautiful souls" (a phrase my friend used that I agree with) I made another trip to the panhandle, seeking a natural beauty.  I found it while visiting Sleepy Creek Lake.

 

While doing some easy hiking that included frequently stopping for a good photograph, I managed to pull a muscle in my upper leg when capturing a photo of a strange, small ice formation on the cement boat launch. I'm not sure the photo was worth not being able to walk for the next few days.  

Every now and then I like returning to nature for a day or a weekend to regain the peace that a world almost completely void of technology has to offer.  My day at Sleepy Creek with a friend did exactly that.  While trudging along, we talked about what felt like every topic under the sun.  There's something valuable about being able to talk with someone like that, a therapeutic feel after conversations like that. The best part of this day was when I made myself carsick from driving the curvy backroads around the lake to scout out some cabins available for rent.  It was quite an adventure--- we even passed through Hobbiton. :)  By the time we actually pulled up in front of the cabin near Woodpecker Lane (I can't remember if the cabin was on that street or one of the neighboring, fowl-christened streets), I wasn't sure I'd be able to drive us off that ridge without having to pull over. We managed to make it back to civilization in one piece.  That evening consisted of catching up with my Appalachian girl over pizza and a romantic comedy (that we light-heartedly criticized from start to finish).  The next day was a race to see everyone I wanted to see and then beat the snow home.  It got pretty dicey coming over the mountains.

Almost two weeks ago, my pony Kit attended her first ever veterinary clinic in Beverly.  I managed to rope in a horseman to trailering her tiny butt up to the arena at the 4H Camp Pioneer on a very cold, windy Saturday morning.  It was a little chaotic, what with no set schedule, a horse show running concurrent to the clinic, and horses milling about everywhere, but Kit was perfect.

I was a very proud horsewoman the entire day. I ended up riding her bareback down the gravel road to meed the trailer.  She made me look like a queen as I jumped off her back, pulled off her bridle, grabbed her lead rope and walked her right onto the trailer without a second of doubt.  She hadn't been in an enclosed space since I bought her four years ago.  The amazing guy who drove us over laughed when she jumped right on, and as he locked the door I hear him say, "Well, if I knew she was gonna load that easy...." 

When we arrived at the camp, the show was in full swing, and there were gorgeous horses everywhere, but a majority of the eyes seemed locked on Kit as she jumped from the trailer and over a nearby ditch with me as we walked to the examination pavilion.  Everyone kept saying how beautiful she was, how well she listened, how much she clearly adored me.  That was the best part-- the people could see our bond.  The ladies at the examination pavilion ooh-ed and aah-ed over her and baby-talked her through the whole experience (shots included).  They even forgot to take all of the pictures required for the coggins test, so I had to go get another set, hence the picture above.  One trainer said she was impressed by her ability to square her feet which made me laugh because I haven't worked with her on that for ages. 

Her third big hurtle was allowing a different farrier to give her hooves a much needed trim.  She was surprisingly well behaved (she reared on the last farrier the first time he worked with her).  The only time she tried the pull her hoof away, the farrier said in a calm voice, "Hey, put yer head down here."  At first I thought he was talking to me, but then I realized Kit had lowered her face to within an inch or two of his, and he quietly began to tell her that he needed her to leave her hoof where he placed it and the quieter she was, the faster he could work.  Her ears were tilted to catch EVERY. WORD.  I was amazed.  Where did all of these awesome horse people come from?!?!?!?

I had two people offer to buy her that day (the farrier told me I should have said my price was four million). I had an offer to buy her the previous work week, and when I visited my father a few days later he told me the guy who trailered her told his wife that he wouldn't mind buying her if I was every interested in selling.  I wouldn't dream of getting rid of this girl anymore (though I did more than once in the last four years), but I was proud that people were impressed by her.  The old men leaning against their pick-up trucks even came over to have a look at her.  I lost count of how many times I heard, "That's a nice little horse, a good-looking horse."

When we finally got home, I think Kit was just as thrilled as I was.  It was a big, long day.  I was, and still am, so proud of my little pony.

Evaluations

I'm sorry I haven't posted anything for so long.  It's not that I haven't had time to write-- it was a lack of motivation in a world full of material.  

In the weeks of my absence online, quite a few life-changing possibilities have presented themselves, a few hopeful doors have slammed closed, and painfully antique windows that I thought had melted into the walls of my memory screeched loudly as they were torn open once more.  Each has taken its toll, and I'm hoping that the decisions I am making and plan to put into action in the next months are the right ones for the direction I want my life to take.

In February, I spent a long weekend with friends in Shepherdstown.  It was a weekend full of fantastic on-the-spot poetry readings, ridiculous arguments through technology (the drama won't go away so long as misunderstandings continuously occur), spectacular meals, tears at the river, and hilarious conversations with cute guys at The Meck. I discovered I love local, blackberry wine (blackberry jam in liquid form, my friends!) and that I didn't entirely miss the big school assignments and resulting panic attacks that college life offered.  I'm still just as annoyed as ever when dealing with the university, but apparently that doesn't keep me from returning for a second degree.  While visiting that weekend, I dropped an application off with admissions for the Spring of 2015.  We'll see what comes of it, I suppose. Regardless, I'm hoping to move back within the year, find a place to live (and people to live with), and begin a job that I don't want to scream over every evening.  I'm doing more than crossing fingers nowadays- I'm actively searching for jobs I WANT in the Shepherdstown area as well as apartments to visit on my next visit in town as well as roping in a roommate or two.  This required me to give up on some people that I used to think would be a part of my post-graduate life-- whether because of their faults or mine, I've left them behind and am making it without relying on them for support.  

It's a lot to consider, but this last month has convinced me that where I'm at is not where I want to be-- there's no such thing as "where I'm meant to be," what I'm "meant to do" or discovering the "purpose for my life." It's about being happy with the life I make.  Sitting around waiting for it to happen, waiting for the stable relationship and the dream job, is getting me nowhere.  Opportunities are not exactly slapping me in the face while I'm chilling in little Elkins, West Virginia.  I can hardly stand listening to the old, gossiping souls day in and out at my current job- though most days my job is better than working fast food chains or working retail (you guys have my utmost respect, there's no way I could survive in those positions).  I know I'm not meant for a desk job, unless it's my own writer's desk in my home with notes for my first novel strewn across it.  Often during the day I find myself wishing I could return to my summer job as a trail guide- if only the stables weren't so far away over four mountains and it weren't negative two every morning when I wake up.......

Truly, my lovely Kit and precious Ginny have been keeping me company and listening to me rationalize these big decisions.  Poor things, they've heard it all a thousand times, heard the frustrations, seen the tears of anxiety and provided the comic relief when I needed it most. 

The Monday-late Friday evening routine, working at a desk, staring at computers and answering phones all day is not a career I fancy.  There are better opportunities for me to make myself happy- it's only after I spent over a month going to work, coming home from work, reading, eating, showering and then sleeping-- having no life outside of one visit to Shepherdstown and finally this past weekend going to a movie with my best friend since elementary school-- that I finally realized those opportunities are not where I am.  I need to get myself to where they are.  I need to get out of the 9 to 5 routine, lay eyes on the life that will make me happy, and then make it happen.  No one else can do it but me, and I'm sick of moping around waiting for people to help me out.  How arrogant of me, waiting for the right situation to walk up to me and shake my hand, or waiting for the voice of God to cry out, "This is your Purpose!" I don't need Pocahontas's spinning arrow-  I need to make my own path (and if my John Smith happens to be at the end of it, he may have to throw a brick at my face to catch my attention because I'll be too busy focusing on my happiness).

This new determination was summed up well by a question my good friend asked when I visited her last month:  "When you hear We Know This Town, which town is it really for you now?"  Which one brings out the best in me?  Which one feels like a home where I can work and be happy?  

I smiled at her that morning as we sped our way toward Shepherdstown.