FAILBlog™

This was the week of fail on so many levels.
Check this out- in the course of one week I
1. learned a former student of mine was up on murder charges.
2. Tried to investigate a house in a new city only to learn
 a. it was a dump (that I couldn't really afford anyway)
 b. the city was a dump too, and
 c. have a tire blow out on the highway on the way home from said dump...with my mother in the car.
(Thanks to my excellent driving skills, [direct quote from the momma] however, no one was harmed during the filming of this maudlin scene... I mean, no one was harmed, thank God.)
To continue, I then
3. failed to win the Georgia lotto while in Georgia (not so bad, I know, but still not a great feeling) and
4. was hit on by a young mack daddy,who also looked like a former student, [ewww] while at my local bookstore.(Not so much a fail on my part as his, but since I was an unwilling participant, there goes one more tally on my score).
I also failed to land a job, failed to live up to my own expectations, failed to tell others to lay off me with their expectations and may have gained back the few pounds I lost while in Japan. (Damn that red rice and fish!)
At any rate, all of this together led to an, (let's say it all together, folks)-Epic Fail.
      Really, it's not that bad, I guess. I mean I'm fully aware that I do not follow the Seven Habits of Highly Effective People ( and anyway, don't we all really, deep inside- hell, not even so deep inside, kinda despise those Highly Effective People anyway?) But I'm doing my best.  I mean, that forced break on the side of an interstate highway did give me a chance to bond a little more with my mom.  And, not getting any rejection letters from the multitude of employers I've been soliciting isn't bad news- and may give me more time to discover if any of those jobs are what I really want to do and if I'm ready for them. ( I won't even discuss whether they're ready for me.)  And if I failed to win the lotto, I also failed to "win" the taxes that come with them.  And as for my former student- again, I reiterate with a "sigh "- I did the best I could.
Appropriately enough, an article in today's paper cemented my feelings about my recent failures- saying that failure is an invaluable teacher. I know that that's right, if not always great consolation.  Failure teaches us the price of success. We will do it over and over again, before we get it right, but each time hardens our determination, and inspires new learning, in essence making success inevitable if we don't give up. At any rate, it makes me feel a little bit better and it should make you feel better too.  We all make mistakes and we're all in this mixed up world together, but every failure will take us a littler further, if we learn before it's too late.

“My imperfections and failures are as much a blessing from God 

as my successes and my talents

 and I lay them both at his feet.”

 Mahatma Gandhi

* No need to go this far, folks. After all, we're all losers sometimes right?  ..... Is it just me, then? :>

 ( I only hope Fail Blog will forgive my mistake- Please note; this is my official notice that Fail Blog is a trademarked website distinct from my own and in no way is my content their responsibility.  P.S. -go over to their site and give them some hits, just in case!)

Plus Ca Change...? The Heck With That! or :If It Ain't One Thing, It's Another...and That's Okay

"The more things change, the more they stay the same."  What a crock. Since returning home, it's true that I've come across a lot of things on my nostalgia tour.   Same town, same streets, same students,( yeeeeah, saw a couple of them at the local grocery store. Talk about awwwkward!)  Everywhere I go is the same... except for me.  It's weird.  People  are so happy to see me when we meet by chance on the street, but when they ask how I'm doing or what I'm doing ( which at present is nothing, but don't fret, dear readers- I mean after all, it does allow me to spend more time with you. Aren't you happy?), I find myself at a loss for words. How do I explain what I've been through, and how it's changed me to people who are still perfectly content right where I left them? I My experience doesn't show on my face (except for a few less stress lines than I used to show.  And apparently, a little weight loss from a year long diet of fish and rice. Anyone interested in financing a great new diet idea?)  For a year and a day (poetically speaking) I've been separated from the life I had always known...and to be honest, haven't missed it a bit. In fact, I'm more eager than ever to go again-not necessarily abroad but away... away from the people who thought they knew what I was capable of, and who still can't believe I've accomplished what I have, or that I want more. Away from a town that always seemed charming, but too big and  is now only one of the millions of charming places I could be seeing and in comparison to some I have seen- not so big afterall. Away from my own expectations. I thought I would be able to fit back in smoothly, that coming home would be as easy as shucking off a kimono and slipping back on my southern accent.  But it's not. It's  rather more like ( gross metaphor to follow- you have been warned!!) like a snake shedding it's skin, or an insect shedding it's exoskeleton....or maybe just a butterfly coming out of a cocoon. I spent a year away from the real world and for awhile I've felt like I was struggling to get back into my cocoon, and suddenly it occurred to me that I don't really want to go back there and I don't have to. Whew, what a load off! did it really just occur to me that I don't have to be what I was before, just because I am where I was before? Sadly, in the turmoil of moving back home, and starting to settle in, yes.  Happily, it didn't take too long before I remembered that settling is the last thing I want to do in life. I've been back in the home of the free, and land of the brave for about two and a half weeks.  Last time, I was here for thirty two years. Guess I'm a slow learner, but eventually I get there. I don't have to stress about where I'm going to be or what I'm going to do, next.  Everything I've ever needed has always been provided for me (including a swift kick to the butt, when needed). Change is growth and chaos is the fertilizer that feeds it. (Yeah, I  bet you like that spider metaphor a whole lot better than this fertilizer one, huh?)  But it's good to remember that  an old dog can still learn some new tricks or at least  new attitudes.  See? Sometimes things really do change for the better.

“Change is the essence of life.Be willing to surrender what you are for what you could become.”

Garuda from Andres Salaff on Vimeo.

Never Can Say Goodbye or DIY: I Don't Know Why You Say Goodbye, I Say Hello

Sorry for the hiatus, folks. In the confusion of moving home, the original  blackgirlatlarge became, well, more  at large than usual, if only because I had too little time to begin moving home in, and found myself in a sea of packing tape and odds and ends that had be shipped back to America. It was an unsettling feeling to pack up a life in little boxes and send them away. Without a clear goal to return to, I did indeed feel lost and at large. And since I've arrived home, I have found that I have  way too much time on my hands. In my typically bi-polar manner, I  find myself at loose ends, except when I'm trying to keep myself busy. Unfortunately, I am curently sans job. In trying to correct that oversight,  I have been wavering between frenetic, anxious resume mailings, and online research, and staying up late and sleeping later, getting over the inevitable and unenviable jet lag, all of which results in me feeling constantly hungover and blue, hoping someone will bring me a waffle in bed so I don't have to face the day. (Which, hallelujah, someone did. Well, okay, I did have to get up, but there were waffles to be considered. Anyway,thanks, mom!)
I'm trying to jump back into the American work  pool, but unfortunately, the entire pool now seems to be only the shallow end. And while I'm in the middle of being frustrated about the job market, ( I know, like seventy umpty million other people)  Fate seems to think I'd appreciate the joke of reviewing my not so distant past in Japan.  Like flotsam on a beach, pieces and memories of Japan have been showing up at my home every few days- pictures of my students, omiyage( that's Japanese for gifts, folks), and mementos from vacations with friends, all of it begging the question, "Why did you leave Japan, exactly?"  Suitcases,boxes, duffel bags, every day a little more,  all of which has to be tucked into whatever space can be found in my childhood home- talk about your emotional baggage. All of it  reminding me that I left a stable job and a fairly fulfilling life in another country...to come back home to uncertainty. While I appreciate the memories, I realize that  the big impact of my overseas journey  still hasn't really hit me. But I have a suspicion,  I'll appreciate it more, once I have achieved  the "normal" life I'm now trying to resume- when it's resumed, that is. Right now, I feel like I am trying to squeeze myself myself back into a life, that  while extremely familiar, is not so exciting. It's like trying on your favorite pajamas- they fit, but they're a little nappy, and soiled and don't do much for your image. And didn't I leave to get away from that? But everyone needs a starting point, and it only makes sense to come back to mine and build from there. My dream was to experience Japan, and boy, did I! From island life with too much fish, typhoons, winter cold like you can't imagine, (you with your central heating!) to tea ceremonies, dragon boat races, and the fabulous ancient beauty of Kyoto, I lived Japan. My new dream is-to live whatever comes next. What that will be,  I don't know, but I'm fairly confident it will come to me. On the one hand, a girl's gotta eat. Practical matters are a concern right now. On the other hand, man does not live by bread alone.  In a third hand, (don't ask where that mutant hand came from, btw) lies my future. For right now, I want to survive. But I don't want what I learned about myself to die. I learned that striving for a dream, even if you don't always achieve it, can lend a power to your life that makes even the most mundane things seem purposeful. I want to keep that in mind. Somehow, I'll manage to say goodbye to Japan and that surrealistic dream of a life without forgetting how it felt to hang over a precipice and feel alive.  I'll take that feeling into the rest of my life-  and hopefully, not regress  into letting my job become my life, when my life should be my life. (Does that make sense?)  So, it may be sayonara to Japan, but it's hello to a new life, wherever it leads me. I know I won't ever forget what I've experienced-- and because of it,  I'm  more than  ready to  keep moving on.

      "When you're safe at home you wish you were having an adventure; when you're having an adventure you wish you were safe at home"

 Thornton Wilder 

I say, make it all an adventure, in every way you can. 

You Can Get With This or You Can Get With That or DIY:Taking a Stand Against Misdirection, Indecision and Independent Angst

Making choices is the essence of living. Even when you don’t consciously know you’re making choices- you are. We are constantly evaluating stimuli, and choosing the path our next footsteps will take.  We are constantly making wrong turns, …or not necessarily wrong as  not direct, just random turnings in the Labyrinth.  We do this because we are desperate, to make the right choice, some choice, when we cannot see, and sometimes even when we can ,the consequences. We move because not moving is a decision to die. Like lemmings over a cliff, we know that we are rushing forward heedlessly, but we can’t be still in the midst of a roaring tide of humanity. We run, and we hope, always, that the trampoline is there- Deus ex machina working behind the scenes. (I don’t know, maybe lemmings don’t know they’re going to fall over the cliff – does that mean they’re lucky or not?) We are desperate and often, that automatically means stupid.  We want things to be known, we want the pleasure of life without the pain or depending on your mindset, the exact opposite ( which still comes out to about the same thing).  There are some of us who are so desperate, that we willingly walk into the jaws of Cerberus, or bring Hell to us, wherever we are in our misery- because in hell (maybe especially), you can surrender to a higher authority (or lower, considering the terrain). There are some of us who want to be less than we are, because it hurts less, costs less, demands less. As simple as that. But, oh, my loves, my very own, dear loves, we all know, it’s never as simple as that, don’t we?

To make choices is to acknowledge responsibility, and to acknowledge power. And there are consequences for having  power, for shouldering responsibility… but there is also glory. It is your choice- anonymity or grace, knowledge or ignorance, power or powerlessness; to go striding to your destiny or be dragged along by the whims of fate.  There is only one path for each of us- whether we turn and turn about or go widdershins in the circle- no matter how we circle the issue in our heads,  no matter how tangled it looks on the surface, the choice is to move forward on the path or to fall by the wayside and die.  The road to hell is paved with good intentions. We don’t want to do the wrong thing for the right reasons. We are scared and we long for certainty when the path  of life is  blocked by indecision and fear, but you cannot stand aside. You cannot step off your path. You can only decide if it will be a walk of shame or triumph.  Choose today to walk the hero’s path, to be troubled and alive, and moving , to make decisions when you know that sometimes you will (not might) be wrong. Because, maybe, some choices aren’t that hard after all. To live is to choose- sometimes, simply to choose to keep living, moment by moment.  The Glory Road is there for all of us. Which path will you step onto today? Choose.

“Life is change. Growth is optional. Choose wisely.”

Beware the Jabberwock or A Simple Kind of Life

I'm so ashamed, I've been so mean

I don't know how it got to this point
........................................................
Now all those simple things are simply too complicated for my life

How'd I get so faithful to my freedom?
A selfish kind of life
When all I ever wanted was the simple things
A simple kind of life

No Doubt- Simple Kinda Life
Lyrics and Vocals - Gwen Stefani


Beware the jabberwock, my child, the jaws that bite, the claws that snatch-Lewis Carroll

Life can be a lot like a jabberwocky- a kind of cage that encloses you in imaginary what ifs. What if I had chosen a different path, what if someone had chosen me, what if, what if, what if. And sometimes you can’t even remember what choice you made that led you here, or what dream you had that disappeared. I often wish I had had bigger dreams for myself as a kid. That someone had had dreams for me. I wish I had had dreams at all. Most of my life has been spent working, nose to the grindstone, and looking up every now and again to realize that I had no idea where the grindstone was rolling to. I have felt trapped in that hardworking, but oblivious persona. And every now and again, when some blinding flash of the obvious hits me, I realize how little time we have, and yet I still can’t seem to use it well enough. I never wanted to be the person who scaled Everest- I simply wanted to see it happen, to know that it could be done. I have accomplished some things in my life, simply by plodding away at them, but I’ve never felt the bursts of inspirational fire that the people I admire have. I will never see in the way of Picasso- in bursts of color and abstract shapes. I will never write in the way of Neruda, cool, honeyed, exotic words. I never wanted to. Then I did. And it was too late. I thought the simple life was all there would be for me and now I find that even the simple life may be beyond me. There are so many things I don’t understand. I want to be inspired by real life, and the imagination both, and find myself existing in one, wishing for the other, and not really feeling either. Where have all the Muses gone? And why did they never touch me? Life can feel a lot like a jabberwocky- a cage that encloses you in neverending “ I wants”. I want to be special. I want to be creative. I want to be loved. The simple things in life. Is there anyone out there who knows the answer to it all? Does anyone have the key? Tell me. I want to know what would happen if only......

Can't Get There From Here or After The Wreck, I Picked Myself Up, Spread My Wings and Flew Away

     Desperation has a bouquet all its own. It’s the scent of the hunted, of rage and fear, adrenaline pumping from your pores. Desperation is an outstanding evolutionary culling tool, because it separates the quick and the dead, predator from prey. It sometimes feels like the world is designed to make you desperate, to place you in perilous situations- (the truth is we do it to ourselves, adrenaline junkies, drama queens that we are. We act like it makes us feel alive. By definition you’re alive, dope- the question is whether you’re living. And most of us aren’t.)
       Desperation has a tendency to force you to make choices, to act. It focuses you, makes you more of what you are. If you were smart before, it sharpens your wits, sometimes enough to slit your own throat. If you were (ahem) less than stellar, you tend to get dum ber while under the wire. Desperation is like the Sword of Damocles swinging over your head. Jump one way or the other, you live or you die. Really, you live and you die. But maybe it doesn’t have to be that way. In life, the thing is, you have to realize that those desperate moments are just that..moments. They can be overcome. Life is like a tunnel and depression is like plaque in your arteries. It can make you sick, squeeze the breath out of you, make you wheeze and shake like a user in rehab. But if life is a tunnel, you are a conduit (to extend the metaphor)- you can expand. Life flows through you and in desperate times, that is when you need most to enbiggen (thanks Simpsons!) yourself, not to seal yourself in. You need to open yourself to the flow, to hope, to inspiration. If the Sword hangs above you, cut through it like Alexander. Trying to force down a big knot of pain, is like trying to swallow one of those horse sized tranquilizer pills that doctors often prescribe for “stress”. It will choke you and it won’t really solve the problem, only exacerbate it. It numbs you and makes you afraid to feel anything- and if you can’t feel anything, what’s the difference between being alive and dead? When you figure that out, it makes all the difference in the world. You can’t get where you want to be in the world by being desperate, or afraid. Desperate rats in a cage may scramble and climb, but they never get anywhere. You are not a rat- you are a conduit, a pipeline for the essence of all things. Don’t close yourself off. Don’t beat your head against the walls. Be still and listen and feel. Then move. Whatever direction you move, you’ll no longer be huddled under the knife. And even if you still don’t know where you’re going, you’ll go straight and proud, walking on the edge.

I do believe that most men live lives of quiet desperation. For despair, optimism is the only practical solution. Hope is practical. Because eliminate that and it's pretty scary. Hope at least gives you the option of living.

Harry Nilsson



Waltz For Life Will Born
I like the idea of waltzing for life- how 'bout you? Shake off your desperation today and dance!

Fight Club

     No positivity today. Every so often, people fall into a slump.  Unfortunately, today my slump happens to be a million miles deep. I sometimes feel like I'm on the outside looking in at life, but whenever I try to get inside, I then find myself desperately wishing I hadn't gotten caught up in the whole mess. It's almost like life is a fight- a go the whole nine rounds, knock down, drag out fight, and right now life is kicking my ass. It's slamming me on the ropes, and pile driving me to the mat and I kinda feel like it would really just be best to tap out. But I don't. No matter how hard life is slamming me in the face, no matter how much I wish I could just go to the mat and let life whale on me until the blood, sweat and mucus runs down my face, (how's that for an image?), no matter how much I want the bell to ring so I can go down for the count... I don't give up.  Stupid me.

  
      I am terrified about my future, nauseous, stressed out, and would like nothing more than to be unconscious for longer than the, barely,  six hours of sleep I get every night. I would like to be led by the hand to the next job, my future,  whatever is coming, because right now, I simply can't see it on my own. There are too many variables, and every one feels like it is so crucial, that if I make the tiniest mistake, I will forever, explosively,  f***  up my life . If I were a mouse,  the future would be a snake, hypnotizing and petrifying me, and right now, licking its chops.  I have never felt more like the underdog.  (Ok- not true, I often feel like the underdog. Then I get over it till the next crisis. Which happens to be now.)

  
     All I can do, is what I can do. Keep putting one foot in front of the other, take the punches like (if you'll pardon the metaphor) like a man.  I feel like Homer Simpson in that episode where he gets into boxing. Dumb as he is, he simply couldn't be knocked down- (mostly because he had a layer of fat around his brain, which protected him from too much brain damage. I know. I find our similarities quite startling as well). 

I'm not a powerhouse. I can't give life a roundhouse blow. I'm about as powerful as a kitten batting a piece of string. But at least I can stand. It's the best thing I can do- maybe the only thing I can do right now, till I get a better feel for the ring. Life is a struggle, a fight to the death. Maybe I couldn'ta been a contenda' (notice my Rocky accent), maybe I'm a small fry. But even the best has been known to choke in the clutch and let the underdog win.  I'll stay in the fight. I'll take those odds. I'll keep going- it's the only thing I know how to do. It's the only way to win.*

“Endurance is not just the ability to bear a hard thing, but to turn it into glory.”

William Barclay 

* Hmm, a little positivity slipped in there after all!

The Rainbow Connection

Somewhere over the rainbow,

Skies are blue

And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.
-music- Harold Arlen
-lyrics- E.Y. Harburg



The one thing that connects us all is our unconscious. The dreams we dream as we lie asleep, on the beach, in our beds, under bridges – the visions we struggle with, and indulge in, brought about, maybe, by too much dinner, too much drink, too much stress, but all stemming from the same source. The spirit which makes us human, more than animals, less than divine, allows us to dream. To dwell in an other reality where nightmares loom, and precious fantasies are fulfilled. But, if any one knows, I do, that dreams and wishes aren’t real. Unless you make them real. I have nursed wishes like babies at my breast and been broken hearted when they didn’t come true or didn’t come true the way I thought they should have. I have , often , been wholly disappointed in dreams. They are common, like pests. An old saying, -“If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. If wishes were fishes, we’d walk on the sea.” In times when I have felt so down I forgot which way was up, I held on to dreams to get me through. But now I think it is time for new dreams. Not sleepy dreams, or “maybe one day” dreams, or “if only” dreams. But real , achievable capital “D” dreams. Dreams that I choose when I’m awake. Nothing nostalgic, or yearning, but something, paradoxical as it sounds, structured. A dream with a purpose. Over the course of my life, I have often had to make a dream for myself. I don’t know what I dreamed of doing when I was a kid. I don’t know if I forgot my dreams, or far more likely, even then, didn’t really dream at all, couldn’t see myself accomplishing much of anything. My childhood was oblivious- and not in a good way. I didn’t have a talent, or a foregone idea of where I wanted to work, or who I wanted to be. I went where I was told. I drifted. But after a year abroad, I’ve come to realize that I need to create my own dreams out of whole cloth. I need to make that list and check it twice, (but don’t call me Santa!). I need to make my life a dream I never want to wake from. In Celtic mythology, Epona is the goddess of horses and dreams. If you ask her, she will accompany your path and help you to make your dreams come true. I’ve never been the most creative person, or one who had a clearly defined path before her, but now I want to make a path for myself- a real path to happiness, however hard or long it maybe. If there is nothing I have been drawn to, then that doesn’t mean that there is nothing I can do, and especially shouldn’t do, to succeed in my own happiness. Happiness doesn’t have to be just in a dream, or over a rainbow. It can be real, true, and sustained, right here and right now. The “rainbow connection” is the journey from idea to truth, to reality- my reality. I hear the call of the future when I sleep. I can feel myself yearning, wanting my deepest desires to come true. This year I will make a new dream- I will write it down, and then …I will live it. Choose randomly, choose purposefully- but choose a dream this year. Choose it. Grasp it- follow it across a rainbow, and hang on to the tail of a star. Live your waking dream, walk your “moon-lines, your apple pathways “(Pablo Neruda). Walk into your dreams this year and never look back.





Who said that every wish, would be heard and answered

When wished on the morning star?

Somebody thought of that, and someone believed it

And look what it’s down so far

I’ve heard it too many times to ignore it

It’s something that I’m supposed to be

Somewhere we’ll find it, the Rainbow Connection,

The lovers, the dreamers and me

The Rainbow Connection- Jim Henson

Make A Joyful Noise

        Spent a bad weekend curled into a fetal ball eating pocky. That's leetle  Japanese chocolate dipped pretzel sticks for you folks not in the know. It was a rainy weekend, but that wasn't the source of my angst. I just suddenly got the feeling that nothing was quite right in the world and nothing could make it better. Not even two boxes of pocky and that usually solves everything. I had taken a walk earlier in the rain, which normally I love, but which in this instance only made me wet, and cold. I came home feeling anxious, lonely, and unaccountably tense, almost like I was having a breakdown.  Even my skin itched.
Have you ever gotten the feeling that somewhere just out of sight, behind the sets, and the bright lights that fool us into thinking we live in "reality", somewhere the real world is just falling apart? It's a consequence of being separate. Of feeling like other people aren't really real. It's that I'm the only real person in the universe, "One is the loneliest number" feeling you get when depression looms over you and you wish one person would acknowledge you.
     I think other people are better about combating this feeling than I am.  It has always seemed to me like every one else is just so happy (hawk, spit- ptooey!). And I'm not- not all the time, not exuberantly happy like some people. It quite literally makes me want to go to sleep and not wake up some days. I sometimes have the feeling that if I just went to sleep in my bed one night and didn't wake up, my body would just evaporate. And I would be okay with that.
     Feeling that disconnect is not a modern problem, but it is a growing one. It's so easy nowadays to be apart from people physically, and emotionally. Here in Japan, it's a legitimate mental illness with an "exotic" name. People who refuse to leave their homes here are called hikikomori- literally  "pulling away",  or "to be confined" (wikipedia.org). Suffering from acute social phobias, they withdraw and repel any attempt to bring them out  of their isolation.  I felt a little taste of that this weekend . It's a horrible, cramped, suffocating feeling to be cut off from the rest of the world. But I was lucky- just when I needed it, someone noticed me- I got an email, a smile from a neighbor, the rain stopped- all at once. As bad as my two days were, I can't imagine  how someone else who is struggling to live that way now, has been struggling, will still be struggling in a few years, feels. I made a choice a few years ago to do whatever it took to overcome my own depression- but for one weekend, I almost let it get the better of me. In the end, by luck, happenstance, pure coincidence- I didn't. (And those of you who know me, know I don't believe in any of those things.) It wasn't luck at all. It was love- love for myself. I didn't want to lose who I have become. Love from  my family- who sent that email just in time. Love for life- because I'm not done here yet, and I don't want to miss out on anything ever again. You don't have to believe that what I suffered was "bad"- I'm sure some people won't have anything but condemnation for someone who spent a "weekend" depressed. It was my battle- not yours. I fought it- not you. More important than your measurement of my pain, is my measurement of my success. I didn't give in , (or at least not for long). This morning I got up, and went to my job, and spoke to friends and the world didn't wobble. That's my victory. And yes, it was one weekend...after years of being numb, unable to sleep in my own bed because of panic attacks and being  unable to go to work without medication. One weekend.  I am truly more blessed than I can know or appreciate. Today I heard a song I had never heard before that said exactly what I had been feeling, and miracle of miracles, I was here to hear it.   Tomorrow, maybe I'll be able to sing a song, rusty voice and all- and be glad that I am here to sing it.  There are no coincidences. The war is never over, every battle spawns a new one. But victory can be won. Hope can live in the heart again in spite of the dark spaces. For today, I will whisper my gratitude that one weekend wasn't a year, or a decade, or a lifetime alone. Thank you to everyone who "spoke" to me then - by email, a smile, whatever.Tomorrow, I will raise my voice, or lift my pen, or write one more blog, so that someone else will be able to win their own battle. There are no coincidences- only connections, and consequences. If you have the time and the heart,  make a joyful noise today. You won't  be the only person who hears it.

"I like living. 

I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, 

racked with sorrow, 

but through it all I still know 

that just to be alive is a grand thing."

--Agatha Christie

Always Coming Home

Is your heart at home? Do you know your place in the world?
In a little over two months I will be going back home. Well, not home exactly, just back to the U.S. To what, exactly, I don't know. I really haven't missed the U.S. all that much.The things that I've been homesick for aren't really physical- although, there have been times when I would, if not kill, at least cheerfully maim someone for a Mcnugget. What I've really missed is the feeling of stability- of knowing the details of my friends lives, of feeling inconspicous in a crowd (and whoever thought I'd miss that feeling.). I miss lazy Sunday mornings in my local bookstore, and drinks with friends. I miss having a daily routine, with all the people I most care about in it. I miss the grounded feeling that home gives you- of knowing where you belong.  But the truth is, I can't go back to the home I knew as a kid. I can't go back to the house I bought and made my own. I can't go back to the town I left, because I know deep down that it won't fit me anymore. Never did I guess- or I wouldn't have left.  People's lives have gone on since I've been gone... and so has mine. Over the course of a year abroad, I've changed, and those who are nearest and dearest to me weren't there to see it. Will they welcome back the stranger in their friend's clothes?  Maybe.  Can I settle somewhere new and make a home all over again?  Of course I can. "Home is where the heart is." And at heart, I am a Southern girl- who likes magnolias, iced tea and barbeque. I like good gospel music, good greens and fried chicken. But I also like J-pop, sake and (not so much) sashimi.  I like the idea of weeks on the Riviera or quick jaunts to Brazil.  Having opened my door to the world, I'll never be able to close it again. So what is a mixed up, cosmopolitan (hah!) jet-setting girl to do? Love the one you're with. When you don't know where home is, you make it where ever you go and whoever you're with.  I've spent a year doing something I never dreamed I would. Paradoxically, I am both completely different from and more completely me than I ever have been before.  A change in locale was just a kick in the pants to begin a change in me. And I'm glad I did it. Because now I know what I want- who I want in my life, what I want my life to be, what my heart longs for. And wherever I land next, I'll take that with me. I guess  a year in the "real world" is a good idea for anyone who really wants to be able to appreciate exactly  what it means to " go home" wherever or whoever that may be. Everyone needs a home. After all "home is the place where, when you go there, they have to take you in." Robert Frost  So, I hope that all those out there who like me,  have yet to find that soft landing place they can call home, find it or make it, somewhere on that country road.








Where is home? Home is where the heart can  laughtwithout shyness. Home is where the heart's tears can dry at their own pace. 
~ Vernon Baker