Lookin Up

So it's been more than a month since I lost posted. In my defense, I've been quite busy BECAUSE hubby and I are buying a house. More on that in a minute. My last post was not exactly sunshine and rainbows, but it was the beginning of a process for me. I had been in a pretty dark place mentally and emotionally and that post was the start of me finding my way out of that dark place. Another part was trying to find solutions to some of the things in my life that I was unhappy about, one of them being our house in Mordor.

 I started by looking into houses for rent in the area and was pretty much coming up empty. There were some houses for rent, but they were either way too small and ghetto or about twice as much as our budget would allow. So...I decided to look into buying a house just to see if maybe it was possible. As it's turned out, not only was buying a house totally possible, but actually very beneficial. When all is said and done, we're going to be spending less per month in monthly bills than we have been in our Mordor home except with a whole lot more awesomeness and that's what I want to write about today. And I must interject here that God definitely provides. He's been there through this whole process, even in the seemingly small details.

Our new abode. Nothing Mordorish about it. It's also a lot bigger than it looks.

So I've decided to use this post to create of list of all the wonderful things about our new home that I will try my best to not take for granted in the future after living without them for the last year.

1. A dishwasher. (This has a huge impact on my emotional well-being. I hate dishes because doing dishes was used as punishment in my household. On the other hand, I also hate a cluttered and/or dirty kitchen. A dirty kitchen makes me not want to be in it which means I never cook which means I eat crap like hot dogs and Hot Pockets [although Pepperoni Pizza Hot Pockets are the bomb diggity]).
2. A decent sized kitchen sink. (Seriously, we have the smallest sink ever.)
3. Kitchen cabinets that match. (We have 3 different types of cabinets.)
4. Kitchen counters that match. (2 different counters - 1 green and 1 dark grey fake granite laminate)
5. A pantry that's insulated. (Opening our current pantry is like opening the door to a swamp.)
6. A sprayer for the kitchen sink that works. (Tiny sink + no sprayer = A PAIN)
7. An awesome layout that allows us to be able to be in the kitchen and still converse with anyone in the dining room or living room which means we can ENTERTAIN.
8. Beautiful tile floor in the kitchen and dining room.
9. A bigger fridge with an ice maker and water dispenser.
10. Carpet. (The cheap ass laminate floor we currently have is IMPOSSIBLE to keep clean.)
11. Windows that we can open. (We currently have a grand total of 2 windows that have screens.)
12. A 2 car garage.
13. A concrete and short driveway.
14. Living on a paved road. (#12-14 means we can FINALLY have our motorcycles at our house instead of at my in-laws house.)
15. An actual yard with grass. (Instead of living in a heavily wooded sandbox.)
16. A fenced in backyard. (We can get a doggie eventually.)
17. More storage in closets, garage, and attic.
18. Bigger master bedroom.
19. Walk-In closet in master bedroom.
20. Laundry facilities right outside the master bedroom. (instead of the other side of the house)
21. Neighbors (That aren't horses).
22. Pizza delivery (Seriously. Just imagine your life without this option. Ever.).
23. Internet speeds above that of dial-up.
24. Closer proximity to EVERYTHING.
25. We'll be investing in something that is ours that we will either keep forever, or eventually sell with at least some financial return instead of flushing our money down the pooper on rent.

I'm sure there will be many other small things that will show themselves once we're there. A good friend said that you wouldn't believe the peace of mind that comes with owning a decent house. Actually, after living in this craphole doublewide with snakes crawling underneath it, spiders crawling all over it, bugs crawling all in it, with the floor buckling and the walls cracking, out in the freakin boonies with a jacked up hiking trail for a driveway, I would believe it. And when we're in the new house by the end of this month, I will gladly bask in that peace of mind.

So things are looking up in the PirateGeek household. It looks like I'm starting my first long term substitute position on Friday at a brand new and very prestigious school where I just MIGHT actually be working for the rest of the year. Had an interview for a part time position there this past Friday, and I feel pretty confident about it. If I get it, then it will be abundantly clear to me what God had planned all along with this business of having 6 interviews with 0 job offers. If I don't get it, then it will be made clear to me later, and I'll be okay with that.

In the meantime, you might see more from me, you might not. I will almost certainly return to blogging after we move because I'll have my very own office with a big window right next to my desk that I can OPEN to let the sweet southern Fall air in which will undoubtedly inspire me to return to writing.

Until then, peace out y'all.

P.S. Buying a house is a ridiculous, scary, tedious, long, privacy invading process, but I might touch on that later. 

Am I Okay? The truth is...

I'm willing to bet that the most common question exchanged between two people is "How are you doing?" Especially here in the South, it's kind of a standard greeting whether you know a person or not. "Hey" or "hi" rolls very nicely right into "How are you doing?" I'm also willing to bet that the answer to that question is the second most common lie that people say (Saying that you've read the terms and conditions doesn't count here.). The most common lie? The answer to "Are you okay?" Why do I think that? Because that question is usually prompted by a person noticing that the subject is not actually okay, and the subject has no desire to admit that they are not okay. Typically if someone isn't doing okay, and they want you to know, they'll just tell you.

So this is me finally telling everyone that no...I'm not really okay. Before you all start freaking out, my physical health is perfectly fine. I haven't recently discovered any major problems there. The problem I'm having has more to do with my mind, my spirit, and my heart (the figurative one).

The truth is, I haven't been okay for a while. Most of the people who have only met me since I moved south, still don't know the real me. I've been strolling along just fine for several months now without anybody realizing it until the past couple of weeks. In order to explain how I've not been okay, I'm about to walk down a path of words that might make some of you uncomfortable, but it's who I am, and it's the truth.

Most people who read this are probably well aware that I am a Christian. And for those of you who may not know me personally, stop stereotyping me in your head. I've been following Christ since I was about 18 or 19. I'm not one of those people that knows the exact moment that I gave my life to Christ. It was more of a gradual process for me. Life hasn't always been peachy for me, and in fact, at times, it was downright rough, and I'm a firm believer that it is only by the grace of God that I've become the person I am today.

However...lately, God and I have not been on good terms. In fact, I've been flat out pissed off at Him. I spent three years of my life practically ignoring everything and everyone in it except for my journey to become a teacher. Between work, classes, student teaching, and very little sleep, I didn't have time for anything else, often including even my husband. But I barreled through those three years and came out on the other side with my Masters of Education and a 4.0 GPA. Looking back on it, I don't know how I survived some of it except to believe that God carried me through.

And now here I am, approaching the second school year post grad school, and I'm still not a teacher. I spent most of the past school year subbing. Let's be clear about something subbing is not teaching. It's babysitting en masse. The pay is terrible. The reliability stinks. You don't always know what you're getting into, and often times the behavior of the students depend more on their normal teacher than it does on your ability to control them. The further into the school year I went, the more anxiety I had. Then when March rolled around and teaching jobs for the 2013-2014 school year started popping up, I gained a little bit of hope. But then, with each interview that didn't lead to a job, I felt more rejection, and more like a failure than ever before. And that's where I stand now.

To put so much of your time, energy, money, and life towards achieving a goal only to find that goal out of reach is one of the most humbling things a person can experience, and for a long time I thought that's what this whole thing was about: humbling me. I thought maybe I was getting too arrogant about my academic achievements, and God thought it was time to show me that I'm not as great as I think I am. And although there might be some truth in that belief, I'm pretty sure it's mostly wrong. That just isn't how God rolls.

So after much toiling, and a gradually deeper descent into anxiety, depression, and social isolation, the last couple of weeks have been a bit of a wake up call.  I got myself into a very dark place. I was venturing into the territory of not being a functional human being. I stopped doing housework. I stopped trying to spend time with people. I only went to church when I was scheduled as a volunteer and even then I tried to avoid people. I had become a miserable excuse for a human being. Luckily for me, someone finally noticed. And she called me out on it. We met a week later for dinner where I spilled my guts to her, and she spoke a lot of difficult truth to me that I desperately needed to hear. That started the process of pulling me out of this pit. Then yesterday, someone else took notice and called me out on my crap by relaying something my husband had said to him.

"I wish you guys could meet her."

I've known these people for several months. He didn't mean it in the literal sense. He meant that they still don't know the real me - the person that I used to be before this mess, the woman that he married. It cut me to the core. But he was right.

So this is me coming clean, telling everyone that no, I haven't been okay for a long time. And I'm sorry for putting up a front and not being real with all of you. That's a crappy thing to do, and y'all don't deserve it. I'm not entirely sure why I'm writing this. I guess by writing it down and publicly declaring it, I'll now have dozens of people to hold me accountable. I don't want your pity. There are people who are suffering far more than I can even imagine right now. I just want you all to expect me to be honest and real and to not accept it when I'm not doing so. I'm trying to make a conscious effort to put on my big girl panties and pull myself up by my bootstraps. But the truth is, I can't do it. God has a plan for me and my life, and I have to learn to trust in that and rest in that. He's provided everything we need so far, and I need to just rest in the fact that He'll continue to do just that.

So the answer to the question of "Are you okay?"

No. Not really, but I'll get there.

Run, Fat Girl, Run

So for the people who already know me, you’ll know most of this story already, but I thought maybe I could be a little more detailed by blogging it.

Some time ago (about 2 years and 60 pounds ago) I put “Run a 5k” on my bucket list. Why? Because a) I was had a lot less weight for my legs to carry and b) I was stupid. A few months ago, I felt like I had the perfect timing/opportunity to finally train for a 5k and participate in one. So I signed up for a smaller local 5k and started the Couch to 5k training program. I had done the C25k program before, but on an elliptical. Running on an elliptical does not equal running on pavement. I figured this time, I shall do it on a treadmill, and if the weather cooperates, outside on the road.

So the time comes, I start working hard at it. I didn’t just run, I also lifted weights to strengthen my legs so that I wouldn’t constantly be in excruciating pain after running. About 4 weeks in, I realized that it was actually working. I was running more than I ever had in my life (which was still a pretty pathetic distance) and my knees and ankles were holding up just fine. I was even able to play softball and run bases without hurting myself. Given the unmitigated disaster that was the last time I tried to play softball about three years ago, this was a big deal.

So I’m all pumped up by the success and keep trucking along through week 5 just fine.

And then it all fell apart.

I got sick.

And then I pulled my groin playing softball.

And I didn’t run for 3 straight weeks.

And then I still tried to do the 5k.

Not only had I not run for three weeks, but when it got to the morning of the race, I felt like everything was working against me. I barely slept. When I got up, I ate a terrible breakfast of poptarts or something. I felt anxious to the point of a near panic attack (this is a problem common for me that you’ll probably read about regularly). It was just bad. And I probably should have just stayed home. But I had paid $25 to run this race, and it was on my bucket list. I was at least 5/8 properly trained for this thing. I could do it.

So I get there with my stomach tied in knots. I’m not properly rested. I’m not properly hydrated. I’m still on the verge of a panic attack, but then the race starts, and everyone around me is running, and so I run. I might be using the word “run” a bit loosely by society’s standards, but for this fat girl, it was running.

So, I run. I had to slow down to a walk for a minute or so, but I run most of the first mile and according to my runkeeper app, I finish the first mile in 13:30 which is my fastest mile ever. I hope that this illustrates how much of a runner I am NOT. I’ve never been, nor will I ever be a runner. Even when I was an athlete in incredible shape, I still didn’t run except when I was being conditioned or punished by a volleyball/basketball/softball coach. So that time was my personal record for my entire life not just this incident of training. I felt fantastic. I felt like I was on cloud nine. And then at 1.1 miles...

I puked.

I wasn’t puking my guts out or anything. It was just a little bit...probably because I had barely eaten anything that morning. It happened pretty suddenly, but I’m pretty sure it was a result of all those reasons mentioned above for why I shouldn’t have gone through the 5k. As I was off to the side of the road heaving what little my stomach contained, a few of the race workers came to check on me and my answer surprised myself.

“I’m fine. I’ll just slow down.”

I hate vomiting. I feel like it is about the worst physical sensation in the world. I have always despised it. I don’t know anyone that actually likes vomiting, but I have a special kind of hatred for it. I always swore that if I ever barfed while running, that I would immediately quit because there’s just no way I could continue after spewing my guts. No way. I would have to just lay down wherever I am and hope that someone would eventually come scrape me off the pavement and wheel me away on a stretcher.

But not today.

I was not about to be the only person who didn’t finish this thing. I could hear all the nonexistant people judging me “Of course the fat girl wouldn’t finish it. She’s fat.” Screw you phantom people!!! I’m going to finish.

So I kept going. Much slower than before. There was no running involved whatsoever. I thankfully got water at about 1.7 miles and then saw my husband cheering me on at the 2 mile mark. I walked up, gave him a quick kiss that made me feel empowered to keep going, and then at 2.1 miles...

I puked again.

I mean...seriously? I had been walking. I had got water. I had just gotten a kiss from my wonderful Hubby who was there to cheer me on. It seemed like every time I felt awesome during this race, I would vomit. It was pretty discouraging. So once again, someone came to ask me if I was okay.

“I’m fine. I’ll just slow down.”

I’m an idiot. But the same thoughts that ran through my head the previous puke, flooded my mind again, and I knew I had to finish. So I trudged forward all the while praying to God that I wouldn’t die before getting to the finish line. And then it happened.

I finished.

I even ran the last 100 yards or so because I saw that they were taking pictures at the finish line, and I didn’t want to look pathetic. 

Yeah. I look thrilled.

So I finished it, and I wasn’t even dead last. There were like 20 or so people behind me. I finished at 52:26 which is horribly slow, but still...to ralph twice and still finish is an accomplishment for me.

Hubby was there when I crossed the finish line. Although I felt immensely proud for still finishing it, I also regretted doing it at all almost immediately. I felt like I was going to die. Thankfully, Hubby came to the rescue by getting me some water and bananas, and eventually I was okay.

Then we went to IHOP so I could finally get some breakfast which is awesome because I love IHOP, but then I didn’t get pancakes with my meal, and I became angry and disappointed because I thought pancakes came with EVERYTHING. I was looking forward to pancakes, but no. No pancakes. So all in all, it was a terrible day, and I was painfully sore for the next few days.

The moral of the story? I have no business running, and I will never run another 5k again...


...except for maybe the Hot Chocolate 5k because a bunch of chocolate might be the one thing that would properly motivate a fat girl to run.

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FYI, my posting has been scarce this week because my mama is visiting from Ohio, so I've been busy spending time with her this week. I'm sure I'll get back to more regular posting next week. Until then. Peace.

The next great american talent search show

The other day, I was driving to my unfairly easy job of sitting by the pool when I came to a stark realization.

I am the greatest singer in the world.

Let me be clear about something. Most of the time, I’m a mediocre vocalist at best. I can generally stay on key and carry a tune, but that does not make a great vocalist. That’s like saying a person who can form complete sentences is the next great American novelist.

However.

When I’m alone in my car, I am the greatest singer in the world. I mean, I’m on par with Adele or Whitney Houston. I am that great. Just try to disprove me. You can’t. Because it’s only when I’m ALONE in my car.

I would love to try out for The Voice, but only if I can audition while alone in my car. For THAT is the place where I am the greatest singer in the world. I figure if I can audition in my car, that would obviously be enough to get me on the show, then maybe the coaches can help me transfer my car singing greatness to the stage.

But this got me thinking...

What if there are others out there just like me? Other people who totally fail at singing in front of others, but would blow you away if there were just some way of hearing their alone car singing. This led me for the idea for the next great talent search show.

Now...there are a few stipulations. This show wouldn’t be possible right now. You might think that you could do it Cash Cab style and call it Singing Cab or something stupid like that, but no, because then the contestant wouldn’t be alone, and it wouldn’t work. So, we would just have to wait a decade or so.

Since we’re kind of descending into a constantly monitored George Orwell 1984-esque police state, it’s only a matter of time until every vehicle is equipped with a surveillance camera, right? So, we just have to wait until that point in the future, then someone needs to make this show happen.

So you’d still have to sign up to “audition.” This way the producers would know which surveillance videos to watch, and, therefore, don’t have to watch video feed for all of America and the contestant would still go on believing they’re totally alone because they don’t know when they’re actually being watched. Then, producers, or whoever, would watch until the contestant started singing. Then they’d chose the best (which of course would include myself because I am the greatest singer in the world when I’m in my car alone) who would then get chosen by a coach a la The Voice who would then help them be able to sing outside the car.


I mean, this is a great idea. I know a lot of my renditions of songs include some road rage outbursts which would just add to the entertainment factor, yeah? Someone needs to make this happen. And in 20 years, when I see this show up on my TV, I can point to this post to prove that the idea was mine first and I will sue the crap out of the network because that’s what we do here in ‘Murica.

Slower than a heard of turtles stampeding through peanut butter

Although I would like to take credit for this clever title, I got it from pinterest which is the source for most of my life now and I sincerely hope that the MLA people have someone on the task of figuring out how to properly cite a pin from pinterest. After all, they have already figured out how to cite a tweet.

My home internet is slow. I don’t mean like “waiting a few extra seconds for a youtube video to buffer” kind of slow. I mean like “most of the time I cannot even dream of playing a youtube video because it WILL NOT HAPPEN” kind of slow. No joke. It’s easier for us to watch videos on our phone’s 3G than it is on our home internet.

My inspiration for this post came while I spent a solid half an hour trying to get one, JUST ONE, picture into my previous post. It took me that long to find a viable Wendy’s logo image, get the upload dialog box to show up, and get it to properly fit into the post before publishing it.

Here are just a few examples of how slow my internet is:

• It took about twelve hours for pinterest to finally load yesterday.
• We have lived here about nine months and have yet to get Netflix to work on our PS3.
• It can sometimes take ten minutes to load one blog page. Not exactly media heavy.
• Trying to load animated weather maps will not happen.
• I absolutely cannot have more than five tabs open at once and expect them all to load property.

That's just to name a few. It's not always horrendous. Sometimes, it depends on what kind of mood our internet is in. For instance, we managed to watch season 4 of Arrested Development in just two sittings. Now...I had to get out my old PC laptop and hook it up to the TV via VGA cord for us to be able to watch it on an actual television because, like I mentioned, we cannot get Netflix to work on our PS3, but it still played. Things have gotten so bleak that I got a text from AT&T that my data usage exceeded 3 gb, and therefore my data speeds on my phone will now decrease. That's a different post to itself.

All of this creates a crapstorm of difficulty in really making a high quality blog that includes pictures, videos, drawings, comics, and whatnot. Is that going to keep me from blogging altogether? I hope not. I suppose if I want to illustrate a post or add lots of pictures, I’ll just have to go to my in-laws or the library. I would say Panera, but the closest one is about 35 minutes away. More evidence to support the idea that we live in Mordor...which I think is what I’m actually going to call where we live. No offense to the internet, but I don’t want everyone knowing where we actually live. I digress.

Words cannot describe the first world problems type of inconvenience this creates. I fully realize that there are far worse problems in the world and that there could be far worse things even in my own life, but guess what? That doesn’t make it any less frustrating to deal with.

I've heard people say that you should never pray for patience because then God will present you with the opportunity to be patient, in other words, he'll make you wait. I do not recall praying such a thing in recent history, but our turtle runner internet has undoubtedly been an exercise in patience. That being said, I would much rather continue to be patient regarding crappy internet than continue to be patient about finding a freaking teaching job. More on that another day. 

The Report of my Death was an Exaggeration: How old fashioned hamburger magnate Wendy's prompted my return to blogging.

Okay.

So.

I haven't blogged in over two years. My bad.

In the interim since my last post, I finished my Masters degree, quit my secure, relatively high paying job for the much less secure and unpredictable, low paying job of substitute teaching which is currently on hold due to summer vacation and has been replaced by a job as pool bouncer. More on that in subsequent posts...if I don't drop off the face of the blog earth again. I've also moved 600 miles away from the state I was born and raised in to a state with much better climate, much nicer people, and much better pimento cheese. That last one was the biggest reason for moving.

So now that we're all caught up, it's time to get back to business. I've been toying around with the idea of blogging again for a few months, but for whatever reason, I just couldn't find the motivation to actually do it. Why? I'm lazy. That's pretty much it. I've had lots of blog posts rolling in my head, especially the last couple weeks, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. It's not like I don't have the time. I have time in torrential downpours of abundance. I just wouldn't do it.

But you know what finally gave me the swift kick in the butt to get back at it? A Wendy's commercial.

Look at her. She looks all sweet and innocent and not like the greedy ginger that she is.

Here's the deal: I love me some Wendy's. Of the ginormous international fast food chains, I think Wendy's is the closest to producing an actual burger. That being said, we now live way out in the boonies, the closest Wendy's is about 25 minutes away and it's only on the way to other restaurants, so it has become a rare treat. A large part of my love for Wendy's developed when I was in college. I survived my college years on a steady diet of 99 cent Junior Bacon Cheeseburgers. Broke college student budget + el inexpensivo bacon cheeseburger = match made in heaven (it also = the notorious freshman 15...or 50). Recently, Hubby and I were at Wendy's on one of those rare treat occasions. Given the lengthy journey to our home in Mordor (no we don't live in an allegorical version of Hell [although it is close], I'm just trying to help you visualize the scale of our remoteness), the drive thru is not an option. The food gets cold before we get to eat it. Anyway, I noticed that the Junior Bacon Cheeseburger is no longer 99 cents, but is now $1.79. A freakin DOLLAR AND SEVENTY NINE CENTS!!!! That's a price increase of nearly 81% in about six years. At this rate, the JBC will be $5.79* in twelve years. I know that doesn't seem like a lot for a burger, but when you consider it hung out at 99 cents for probably more that twelve years, then it is.

So back to today. I'm sitting on my recliner with my laptop perusing Parenting in Crappy Pictures (which is hilarious, and you should check it out), a Wendy's commercial comes on whatever I'm not paying attention to on the TV, and I just happen to catch one part of it...the 99 cent four piece chicken nugget. That's four piece. It used to be five. I think this might tick me off more than the $1.79 JBC. You know why? Because they're trying to be sneaky about it. With the JBC, it's not like you can shrink it and pretend it's the same burger at the same price as it always was. But with quantifiable chicken nuggets, you can. Now, there will obviously be a lot of people that will notice it. That includes people like myself that lived off the 99 cent menu for years. BUT there will probably be more who don't notice it. They'll just see 99 cent chicken nuggets and think it's still a bargain. Forget that you're getting 20%* less food for the same price that you would have paid a few years ago, it's only 99 cents. Nothing's 99 cents these days! So I say, be outraged! Go to Wendy's and flip some tables in protest (Actually, don't do this. It might get you thrown in fast food jail or blacklisted or something).

All that to say that Wendy's's (With all my grammar knowledge, I don't know how to properly punctuate in this situation. It's the possessive of the proper noun "Wendy's.") supposed sneaky price gouging enraged me enough to finally return to blogging. I guess it's better than letting all this crap continue to roll around in my noggin.

So, here's hoping I actually stick with it for a while. I certainly have plenty to blog about regarding my absurdly awesome and yet still occasionally stressful summer job, my job search, and my learning experiences living in an entirely new region of the country.

________________________________________________________________________________
* - Yes, I can actually do math even though I'm a certified English teacher. I've actually always been very good at it. I've just forgotten most of it.