Do you think they'll just forgive me and let it go?

My books are overdue again. Nearly a week so, and I'm less than halfway through the first one. I've been a tad busy. That's my excuse for not reading, even though I know it's not much of one.

I also have two DVDs out. They're almost two weeks overdue, and I have no idea what the fines are for media. At the library in my hometown, it was a dollar a day, which means I may soon be making a sizeable donation to the local library.

As I'm typing this, I'm thinking, "Silly girl, stop writing about it, and go return the darn things."

Mmmmmk. Be right back.

Or not, given that I'll be distracted from this task and never return to add any tidbits of humor or wisdom to this superfluous and mildly ridiculous post.

So I should just hit "publish post" right now.

Done.

One two three, Peter Paul and Mary...

Two hours ago I was thinking about how strange it was for a 24-year-old girl to be thinking about going to bed at 9:00 on a Friday night. But then Madre and I talked and I was forced to stay up 'cause a girl can't just hang up on her mother, especially when said mother has had a bad day.

But now I can't sleep.

I have a headache, and nothing to cure it. Going for tylenol would require leaving my hotel room and finding an open convenience store in a town where even the bars close up tight at midnight. I'm in the bustling city of Nacogdoches for work; the last of my parish emergency planning workshops is tomorrow. Which means I have to be up early. Which means I should be passed out cold right now.

But no, no. I'd rather lie in bed changing positions thirty-five times in as many seconds, thinking about how I'm going to answer interview questions for a position that I'm afraid I'm only moderately qualified for.

Yes, that's right. I have an interview.

With just three months left in my VISTA service, I've started researching jobs. I've been so busy lately that IF I have time to look at anything, I only have time to apply for jobs that truly interest me. There have been two thus far, and one requested an interview.

The job seems like it would be a perfect fit, but it's also the type that most people come into with several years of hands-on experience. My few years of experience is more indirect, and I'm concerned that it won't be enough to put me ahead of the pack throughout the interview process.

I realize that I shouldn't be stressing about this, especially at 11:11 (make a wish!) p.m. on a Friday night in Nacogdoches, but I am. Thoughts are flinging and zinging all over my aching brain. It's like pong is happening in my head right now.

Yay for awesome yet antiquated video game analogies.

Mmmk.

Now that I've got that all out, and you all were privileged enough to partake of my only slightly coherent rambles, I think the light will be turned BACK off and I will attempt to drift away to a land of lollipops and banjos.

Goodnight all. Much love, as always, from Texas.

Not so much near, but definitely dear.

There are certain places in this world that hold a special place in my heart.

Mackinac Island, Michigan is one of them.

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The first thing you should note is that Mackinac is pronounced the same way as Mackinaw. Neither acks more than once. One is French; the other is Native American. Both have forts. Not like the kind you built in your living room, but the kind soldiers built when they stole countries and planted their flags. Fort Mackinac is on Mackinac Island. Fort Michilimackinac is in Mackinaw City, on the mainland of Michigan's Lower Peninsula (not to be confused with the Upper Peninsula, where only strange folk live). The only thing that separates the two is a body of water known as Lake Huron, a 30-minute ferry ride, and about a hundred years of transportation history. There are no cars allowed on Mackinac (though I once saw a fire truck), and so the island is filled with cyclists and pedestrians, tourists and historians alike. It's beautiful in the middle of summer; a green, wooded isle surrounded by crystal clear blue water. It's about two hours from my parents' house, and we used to go up there every year or two. Besides the scenery and the cannons, there's pretty fantastic fudge.

I also adore Ann Arbor, Michigan.

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If you haven't caught on, I spent the first one point three years of my adult life in this city. It's home to the University of Michigan (go blue!), and a whole lot of really strange, yet lovable people. In the summer especially, there are constantly festivals and events going on downtown, most notably Top of the Park, in which they take over a part of campus and have live music and a huge movie screen. I met some of my best friends, learned how to salsa dance, and discovered fairy doors in this lively Midwestern city. And when I talk about missing home, as a location, it's most often A2 that I'm referring to. I'd go back in half a heartbeat, but I'm afraid I'd find the city (and its inhabitants) much changed since I left more than a year ago. Being a college town is what makes it fun, but it is also what keeps it constantly evolving.

The last place dear to my heart is one I've been to just four times, never staying for more than a few days (or a few hours) at a time: Nashville, TN.

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I first visited the city as a junior in high school. I was just barely seventeen, and had been invited on the shortest mission trip ever by a close friend. We spent one full day traveling, one full day in the city, and then another day driving back to Michigan. Mary Jo and I fell so deeply in love with the city in that short jaunt that we convinced our youth group leader (aka...my mom) to take us back there the next year. The second shortest mission trip ever gave us two full days in the city, and I started dreaming of the day when I would move there. I went back as a sophomore in college, passing through on our way home from a spring break trip to Katrina-ravaged Mississippi. And then I spent a few frustrating hours searching for a restaurant with parking there on the second day of my trip to Texas last February. I can't pinpoint the reasons I love Nashville. Perhaps it's the people; they were always so nice, and so southern. Perhaps it's the rolling hills, or simply the memories created in those ridiculously short trips in high school.

Whatever the reason, when I heard that Nashville was flooding, my heart was broken. I followed it constantly until the waters receded, and still check for updates. Water is one of the most damaging disasters that can occur, and the city has a long road ahead of them toward recovery. As a disaster geek and a lover of the city, I want to be there to help, but I know that my place is here, helping Texans to recover from and prepare for similar events.

So today I bought this poster:

It was here....no longer available!

For me, it's a beautiful 18x24" print; for the Metro Nashville Disaster Response Fund, it's $20 for relief. In general, I have mixed feelings about getting something in return for a donation. If I'm going to donate, that should be the end of it. But I also know that the heart of Nashville is creativity. The artists who live in and love the city are coming together to do something about this disaster, and it's pretty cool. I like supporting that.

There are other artists selling posters to support recovery, as well as musicians offering special releases to raise funds.

You know, just in case you're wondering.

Whoops.

I took an unintentional day off today.

I went to bed pretty early last night, got a good night's rest, and got up early this morning. I had a 10am meeting in northwest Houston, but I ended up canceling it. Not feeling well, I went to the doctor with a specific concern, which was not confirmed, but I was given a prescription anyway (um, k?).

I slept for about two hours this afternoon until Bennet woke me up insisting that we go outside ("Mama, I have to go potty now!"). It felt good. But I'm still tired. And still don't feel great. But I'm working to hydrate, sleep, and refocus so that I do get better, and soon.

One of the things I've thought a lot about in the last year or so is my own wellness. Total wellness. The stuff hippies are made of (well, without the illegal narcotics). This is the reason I started exploring alternative dietary lifestyles; I was tired of fighting my stomach day in and day out, and I'd finally realized that hamburgers are not my friend. Needless to say, I've been cooking a lot more over the past year, and figuring out exactly how to be a non-meat-eating individual.

So a few weeks ago I decided to delve into a whole new world: gardening.

That's right. This girl started an herb garden. With basil, cilantro, oregano, and parsley. In little pots in a little crate, kind of like this:

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Except I have four pots, all different colors, in a longer crate. A couple of days ago the basil popped through. Then a bunch of teeny-tiny shoots of oregano. Today the cilantro pushed through the soil, still folded over like the neck of a swan.

We're still waiting on the parsley. It has the longest germination time, and I missed that I needed to soak the seeds first, so I used some of the extras and planted new seeds just yesterday.

I have to say, I love this project. I feel so organic, so earthy. I get super excited when new shoots pop up, and I've even remembered to water them every day (I know, whoa!).

This is making me hungry, so I think I need to go feed me and the Bennet. Sans home-grown herbs. Cause, you know, they're barely past seeds.

'Cause it's Thursday.

I can't tell you how many blog posts I've started over the last couple of weeks, and then subsequently deleted. It's funny, because I read blogs in which the authors are brutally, painfully honest about themselves and their struggles and their hurts and even the not-so-pleasant thoughts that scamper through their brains. I like those blogs. I like that the authors are human; I can connect with them. I get them.

As long as I don't tell them anything about me, the connection is one-sided.

I like it that way. I've always liked it that way.

What people might not know about me, because I hide it well, is that I'm extremely self-conscious. I hate people knowing things about me because they might use them against me. I'm susceptible to negative comments, to changing or hiding myself as a result of them. And doubting myself because I thought I disagreed, but maybe I'm just wrong. It doesn't even matter what we're talking about; whether it's faith issues (huge) or crying at movies (tiny).

It's hindering; it has actually prevented me at various times from pursuing things I'm passionate about because I'm not sure what people will think of me. And I'm resistant to being "labeled." Labels are limiting, at least in my own eyes. They give people ammunition, and prevent you from doing anything, from being anything, but that one thing.


At 24, I'm still not sure who I am. I'm still not confident enough in myself to blog about much more than my goofy dog (who is currently in her crate because she kept barking). And every time someone compliments me or says something about me, I play it off with a joke or a laugh or even an argument.

Tonight I don't feel well on a lot of levels, and it's fueling this tell-all. I've been eating too many sweets, drinking too much dairy, and sipping caffeine like it's my lifeblood. My sleep schedule's been all over the place, and I haven't gotten to work before 9 in two weeks -- no matter what time I jump into the shower. I was in Austin last weekend, I'm taking three trips to Houston in three days this week, and I'll be in Lufkin next week. I'm just tired.

I need a day off and a full night's rest. I need to fully commit to whatever dietary choices I'm actually making, whether it's totally vegan, vegan plus fish, lacto-ovo vegetarian or even (why not?) a full-on, meat-eating, cow-killing carnivore (probably not). I need to stop eating cake and start running. To take Bennet for walks. To figure out where I am with God and go back to church. To do yoga. To sew. To stop swearing and being cynical/reactive/cranky. To read. To go to the beach and get some vitamin D.
I can't do much tonight. I'm talking to Kali on Facebook, and then I'm going to bed. Tonight I'll get some much-needed rest. And then tomorrow, I can tackle the rest of that to-do list. After I get back from another meeting in Houston, that is.

Darlin' it's better, down where it's wetter.

It folds into a tiny sofa. And has the little mermaid on it. Don't be jealous.

Saturday.

It's been a long day, closing out a long week. I've started three posts to explain it all, but I can't seem to get it out without forcing it to fit inside a witty box of stories.

It's fear of the future, and facing the insecurities that cause that fear. And it's disappointment in the right now, when things just don't seem to work out how I'd planned. And it's being overwhelmed by work, life, puppy, and everything else, when it all starts to pile up and compound.

I've been in a funk all week, but certain things have made me forget whatever is going on in my own head and just relax. I'm grateful for that; we all need a mental vacation sometimes.

I just got back from one mini-vacation, and it's late (11:30, oh my!). I'm off to bed with all but one item still remaining on my to-do list. Tomorrow will be busy -- I have church in the morning, the dog park in the afternoon, and lots to do in between and after.

So I wish you all farewell and good night.