Life in the Middle Lane

It is my pleasure to let everyone know that I am guest blogging today at awesomelyluvvie.com!

Go check me out and leave a comment!

The ironic thing about this post is that I meant to write today about being happy. Unfortunately, I’m in a tremendously humongous funk.

Yep. I was going to write about not getting bogged down with moodiness. But today I’m feeling pissy, disconnected, and aloof.  Not happy at all.

And it is mostly all my fault.  In addition to being an attention whore, my mood and my outlook are often completely affected by external forces.  If I’m feeling a certain way about the GF, or if I’m distracted by school, or if it is cold outside, or if someone snaps at me, my normal perky sunny disposition deteriorates. And it takes me DAYS to get back to normal.

This Friday and Saturday night I hung out with my friends. Picture taking ensued.  When I looked at the pictures, I noticed that the smile on my face was not reflected in my eyes.  Eventually, I stopped trying to fake it. I’m not happy right now.

It wasn’t until I got a return text from a long distance friend today asking me what was wrong with me because ‘I sounded distant’ that I started to get a clue.  WTF? She could tell I was distant through a text message when I couldn’t even identify what was wrong with me?!?!?!

That’s what friends are for, apparently.

Then I started to smile. Because the same way that my mood can be destroyed by external forces, the concern of my friend (and the exercise class I took, after) succeeded in helping me to feel just a little bit better.

You can’t always change your moods, sometimes you just gotta wade through them.

Dear Readers: I’ve been writing short stories for a while. But I’ve been hesitant to post anything. But now that I’m self-hosting (yay, me), and I’ve given myself a break on having everything PERFECT immediately, I’m posting whatever I want.  So here’s the 1st in what I hope is the beginning of regularly posted fiction.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

She spent too much time daily thinking about how easy it would be to cheat.  In her mind it came down to 4 words.

Work.Call.Sex.Sleep

That’s what her life is reduced to.

What if her “other” wanted to cheat. It would be so easy for her.

Their uncomplicated routine gave an enterprising person lots of wiggle room for infidelity.  Adding someone dumb and unsuspecting OR better yet, someone who only had sex in mind would be a piece of cake for either of them.

She sighed. It made her sad.

Work.Call.Sex.Sleep

As easy as that.

It was Friday night. She was glad she took those extra hours off from work today. It gave her a few extra minutes to see what her other was up to for the evening and, more importantly, to see how much time she had.

Work.Call

Talking to her other seemed so much earlier in the day. But now that she’d done her duty, she was free and the night was young.

She thought about that Amy Winehouse lyric.  “It’s not cheating, ’cause you were on my mind.” And I thought about you when I came.”

She smiled and thought that truer words have never been spoken.

She closed her eyes, tried to forget her life.

She took a deep breath and grabbed the hands of the person she happened to bring home from that bar, and gave herself over to her release.

Work.Call.Sex.

Now she had figure out how to get them the hell out so she could get some sleep.

.Sleep.

I’m self-hosting! YAY! But I don’t know what I’m doing now, boooo!!!

So while I figure this “building a website thing” I’ll be writing a lot less.

I learned something new about myself as I stared at the ceiling of my bedroom, as blog ideas, paper ideas, half finished conversations, life questions and my to-do list swirled through my head.

Some people have muscle tension when their stressed. Some people go blind. Some people get irritable. Some people lose their libido. And some people eat or cry.

I get insomnia. And headaches. And I eat crapily.

As I started thinking about the times that I have had insomnia (and the other symptoms) in the past, I began to see a pattern.

I had insomnia for the entirety of hell year. I would go to bed around 9:30 pm. Lie awake looking at the ceiling, worrying about the bad ass kids I was supposed to teach. Finally, doze off about 3 or 4 am, and wake up at 5:30 to go to work.

At work I would go hide in the teacher’s lounge and cat nap in the bathroom (on the floor) or I would fall asleep during small reading group when the kids would read to me.

After work, I would spend 2 hours at the gym, go home, have dinner, have a couple of glasses of wine, take a sleeping pill (or three) and go to bed.  Then I would start the cycle all over again.

**shudder**

Four years ago, I started a new job, that I loved and for most of my employment there I took children’s Benadryl at night to help me fall asleep.

When I was studying for the GRE and LSAT 2 years ago, all the benadryl in the world couldn’t help me sleep the whole night through.

Every time I go visit the GF in Atlanta, the first night there is always spend restlessly calming down after the 6 hour drive.

You see, Stressd Moni = No Sleep

So a few weeks ago, the headaches started.  I thought it was the holidays. Or the constant NC-GA traveling. Or the crazy weather we were having . Or the GF.

Then I found myself staying awake until 2 am or later.  I thought it was because I was sleeping with the TV on (*cough*, gf’s fault) or because I was working on my capstone, or I was writing or tweeting or because of one thing or another.

But lately, things have gotten worse.   Even when I try to go to sleep “early”, at let’s say 1 am, I still find myself restless and screaming into my pillow.  I usually doze off at about 4 am.

Then morning comes and I drag my aching head out of the bed and into the kitchen, where I find that all I have to eat is canned soup, oatmeal, chocolate cake and popcorn (just slight exaggeration) because I haven’t been to the grocery in weeks.  So I eat chocolate cake (sans milk) for breakfast/lunch and get to work.

And I sit in front of the computer all day.  I’m working on my capstone, which this week means I’m data mining email addresses from downtown development authority websites.   Very tedious and mindless.

So mindless, that hours pass before I realize that all I’ve had to eat all day is chocolate cake. So I go back into the kitchen, get discouraged and eat some popcorn.

And go back to work.

Pathetic, sure. Stressful? Not really.

So what is my problem?

Then I remember my pattern. Not eating well, Not sleeping well, constant headaches.  Hhhmmmm. Sounds like stress.

But Monica, you’re still on vacation, the semester hasn’t even started, and your capstone is coming along. What do you have to be stressed about?

At some point, I’ve learned to live at a high anxiety level.  So, even when things are good, I CREATE stress. Or the perception of stress.  And if there is a little stress, I make it BIGGER. And if there is big stress, then oh boy!

I’m crazy. *sigh*

So, when I realized today that maybe the insomnia and heaviness that I’ve been feeling is stress related and not emotional or hormonal or a symptom of the coming full moon, I started evaluating my life and my stressors.

Know what I found?

Not stress. Not worry. Not really fear.

I found EXCITEMENT.

I am so CRUNK about this semester. My class schedule is amazing!

I have so many IDEAS. A new blog, short story characters, capstone stuff and business ideas have all taken up residence in my brain.

I will be starting a new employment opportunity soon.

I’ve set up lessons with a swim coach!

I bought a book that will help me create healthy meal plans!

I graduate in MAY and will be moving SOMEWHERE fabulous.

I’m finding direction in my life and I’m happy with where it’s going.

Even the things that scare me sh*tless like my classes or my capstone are contributing to the feeling of accomplishment and excitement and you-can do-it ness that I’m feeling.

I’m beginning to believe that stress doesn’t have to be bad. Stress (and it’s alter ego, excitement) can give us energy, and get our adrenaline pumping.

I’m glad I have been able to see that I’m excited (which is good), rather than worried or scared (which would be bad.)  I can use this excitement to get me through the next 6 months and make sure I get all my sh*t done on time.

I should probably stay up until 4 and get everything OUT of my head since I’m going to be awake anyway.

And when my body is ready to calm down, it will.

I have gotten one (just one) speeding ticket every year since 2003. And apparently, getting caught speeding once is a year is too much (I thought I was doing well, to only get one ticket a year).

My speedy ways, along with the accident of 2008 caused my car insurance rate to increase from $152 to $259.   A month.

I’m spending nearly the same amount for car insurance, monthly, as I am for my car PAYMENT. It’s too much.

So I did a little digging, and called up a few of my insurance agent friends, and asked them for a quote.

After Allstate quoted $237 (with a $500 deductible) and Nationwide $289 (with $100 deductible), and State Farm flat out said that I was uninsurable; I decided to keep myself with my current agency, Progressive, even though sometimes they are a pain in my ass. And they screw stuff up ALL THE TIME.

I was amazed today, not only by the outrageous price of car insurance, but by something the Allstate guy told me.

He said that I shouldn’t want a $100 deductible. Why? Because then I would be tempted to call and make claims.  You see, he thought that a $500 is the least that ANYONE should have (but especially “a person like me”).  Why?

He said that car insurance is not for minor accidents and fender benders.  He said that car insurance is for catastrophic accidents where you are going to get sued or someone is going to the hospital. By having a $100 deductible, I may be able to get my car fixed cheaply, but I’ll pay more over the long haul in higher premiums (which I am currently experiencing).

But how am I supposed to get my car fixed if I don’t file an insurance claim?

He believes that one (me, specifically) should be able to pay for most accidents out of pocket and not involve the insurance company.

What?

Yes. If I hit someone and our cars are minorly damaged, I should just go to the closest Bank of America and withdraw the cash to cover it.

What planet is he from?

According to the insurance guy, that nest egg you have saved up? It’s not for when you lose your job, or have a flood in your house, or have a baby. It’s for that car accident you might have.

Yep, that accident that you shouldn’t call the insurance company to report.

If what he says is true, then car insurance is a bigger rip-off than health insurance!  What is the point in having insurance if you are too afraid, or it costs too much, to actually use it?

If I’m in an accident, I want the peace of mind of knowing that I will be able to get my car fixed. I don’t want to be afraid to call the folks who are supposed to take care of me.

I guess I should be afraid. And I should only call the insurance guys if I’m also calling an ambulance.

And that money I thought I saved by moving into a smaller apartment? I’m sending it to Progressive. Dammit.

I love Bath and Body Works fragrances. I wear the lotions, and body washes and sprays. Any of my friends will tell you that I have around 8 bottles of each (ranging from almost full to almost empty). I kick myself all the time because instead of wearing them, I always convince myself to save them for a special occasion. And really, how often is there a special occasion?

Well today, I needed to feel pretty, so I used one of my Favorite body washes, Pear Blossom and I could just feel the smile come on my face.

Out of the shower, I could not bring myself to cover the Pear Blossom with my normal (cheap) lotion smell. So I tried to think of a way to use the Pear Blossom lotion without using so much of it (you never know when they will discontinue a favorite scent, damn them). And I found a solution.

I also love, and use daily, Vaseline Intensive Care Unscented lotion. I always keep a bottom of it around, mainly because it keeps me soft and I also like the unscented scent.

So I mixed the Vaseline Unscented with the Bath and Body Works Pear Blossom.  And guess what I smell like?

Heaven!

If you mix unscented lotion with scented lotion, you’ll smell like the scented. Seems like a no-brainer, but I’d never tried it before.

Now my Bath and Body Works lotions will last even longer, I won’t have to wait for a special occasion, and I’ve been sniffing myself all day.

So I can be thrifty AND flowery, fruity fresh and soft all day.

“Don’t you think you could be a successful student and get a job after graduation if you take 14 or better yet, 12 credits this semester?” she asked.

I struggled for, like, the 5th time in the past few weeks to explain to someone why I lied to myself again.

You see, I told myself in October, November, and December of last year (2008) that if I could just make it to the end of the semester, I would not do this thing, this thing that I am about to do, again.

You see, I’m about to take 16 credits.

And while I would have no problem eating crow and dropping a class if I get too overwhelmed or if one of them sucked, but based on the class titles, the descriptions, and the professors, I NEED to be in ALL these classes.  They complete my theme.

I get that 16 credits is a lot for graduate school, but if I could do it last semester, then I can do again this semester. Dammit!

But when I tried to explain the concept of my theme to my therapist today, she was making some hellafied faces at me.  Similar to the faces of all the other people over the past month who have heard about the marathon of classes that I’m taking this Spring.

My classmates, mostly, are barely taking enough classes to be full time and stare at me wide-eyed when I explain to them my hustle plan. And my faculty advisor, bless his heart, is so focused on getting my capstone (master’s thesis) completed that he may have a conniption fit if he finds out my class schedule. My girlfriend, if I complain one ioda, may push me down a flight of stairs and scream after me, “I TOLD YOU SOOOOOO!” Not because she’s evil, but because she has spend considerable breath telling me to drop something, anything, so that I don’t find myself burnt out and super stressed in April.

My mother, on the other hand, thinks I’m a genius and is so very proud. Her only concern is what we are doing for graduation. Are we having a dinner, throwing a party, sending out invitations?  For her, graduating isn’t an option. Passing my classes isn’t an option. She just assumes (rightly so) that everything that needs to get done will get done. And frankly, she doesn’t give two sh!ts how they get done. All she knows is, her oldest daughter is graduating with a Master’s degree on Mother’s Day and is going to be fabulously successful. And while I know that she really doesn’t understand the work that will go into accomplishing that goal, I love the fact that she just assumes it’s going to happen. She even wants to come to school to hear me defend my paper. (she’s so sweet).

But for everyone who isn’t my mother-those of ya’ll who are now thinking, “Why the hell does Monica HAVE to take 16 credits and what the hell is this theme she speaks of?”

Here is your answer.

I’m taking 16 credits because I am in school to learn and I believe that I have a duty to take advance of this time that I am taking for graduate school.  Why pay the tuition, and take the time off (when I could be working) to come to graduate school if I’m just going to pussyfoot around and half-ass it?

I’m taking 16 credits because I genuinely want to learn, and everything that I’m enrolled in sounds so COOL. And I would never forgive myself if I don’t soak up as much as I can from the professors that I am taking. One of my professors is one of the coolest men I know. He’s funny, brilliant, and he’s f-ing famous.

I ‘m taking 16 credits because at some point in the future, I’m going to go on interviews (or at least have to explain to someone what I’ve learned in graduate school), and having a wide breath of knowledge and some topics that I’ve dug a little deeper into sounds like a reasonable idea.

And that leads me to the idea of a theme.  A theme is a set of inter-related classes that paint a broader picture of a theory or policy or an application.

See, Fall 2008 also had a theme. The theme of last semester was Housing and Community Development.

Housing Policy was my favorite class. I learned how to develop affordable housing, I learned about new ideas and trends in affordable housing. I learned so much about the housing crisis and I am kicking myself right now for not posting more about it over the semester. I learned the policy (and economic) implications for developing affordable housing.  I also learned what the hell “affordable” means. I also learned that there are people who are poor enough that affordable housing isn’t affordable.

The class made me sad, it made me mad, some days it made me want to throw things.  But at the end of the day, it reminded me how much I love houses, homes and communities. It reignited my passion for housing. And gave me some tools that will help me to work in that area.

One other class that worked with my theme was Urban Revitalization.  While Housing Policy looked at mostly federal regulations, UR was all about neighborhoods.  Getting down to where people live, literally. UR made me think about housing and real estate as a neighborhood issue. To be successful as a housing advocate or developer, I have to have a workable relationship with the neighborhoods where I work. This class was the flip side of Housing Policy, and I’m glad I took them both together.

While these classes make up the bulk of my theme, I took the research from these two classes to write papers for other classes.  Basically I wrote 1 paper, and adapted it for the requirements of other classes. I think I used it 3 or 4 times.

This allowed me to dig deeper into a topic area, Inclusionary Zoning.  Basically, inclusionary zoning is a mechanism that local governments can use to create and sustain affordable housing.  And you, dear readers, are reading the words of an inclusionary zoning expert.  *** popping my collar****    I can talk about IZ from a legal point (constitutional and case law) from an economic point and a social policy point. I even worked on a project for a local organization that hopefully will spurn inclusionary zoning policies in my local community.

This spring semester, my theme is Real Estate Development and Social Entrepreneurship. AND my classes compliment my capstone and will provide the background for my dissertation. (Ya’ll knew I wanted to be Dr. Monica one day, right?)

My classes include New Urbanism and Sustainable Development, Real Estate Funding, Capital Budgeting, Policy Implications of the Creative Class, Intro to Social Entrepreneurship and some other stuff that they are making me take. See the theme?  NOW do you see why I have to leave my schedule intact?

I want to use these classes, especially New Urbanism class, and the Creative Class Policy class to build on my capstone research (which I realize that I haven’t really explained at all on this blog, maybe I’ll get to it next time) and set up my dissertation research. And the other classes, Budgeting, Real Estate Funding and Social Entrepreneurship, along with one class from the Fall, Non-Profit Law, will help me start my real estate development business.

Anyway, the point here is that there is a method to my madness. While I may want to die come April, when this is all over, I will have accomplished something significant.  I will have a body of work on topics that I care about and (hopefully) publishable articles, I will be clear candidate for the types of employment I want and I will already have the groundwork for my dissertation all set up for when that time comes. And oh yeah, I’ll be able to tell folks what I’ve been doing for the past 2 years.

So yeah, I may be crazy, but 16 credits and 5 months of super hard work doesn’t seem like that much when I think of where it will put me in the long run. And to answer my therapist’s question, no, it wouldn’t be the same with 12 credits. It would destroy my theme, and furthermore, what would I drop?!?!?!?

So I’m preparing to hunker down, and get it done. I’ll see you at the finish line.

For the past 10 days, the prodigal son my baby brother has been in town. He hasn’t been home in over 2 years, and the last time I saw him, he had a cast covering his entire right leg (courtesy of a roadside bomb in Iraq) and I couldn’t stop petting him out of gratitude that he was still alive. So it was EXCELLENT to get to see him this year whole and walking without assistance. Additionally, my super awesome cityslicker baby sister has been home from college since my birthday.

As my siblings and I are unnaturally close, I’ve been spending a LOT of time at my mother’s house since their arrival. Beating each other up, fighting over the remote, laughing at mom (and each other), burping in each other’s faces and blaming each other for eating the last of the banana pudding (I promise it wasn’t me). It was amazingly fun and I’m so glad I was able to play with them.

I couldn’t help but notice, however, that I’m not 14. My sister isn’t a precocious 5 years old and my brother isn’t a shy preteen.  We are all adults. (That’s a f*cking scary thought).

In addition to our extremely juvenile antics, we also had some real conversations about life, love, depression and death. (Funny how those four go together).  At any rate, my babies are grown. They have opinions and ideas. Nevermind that our conversations, even on those heavy subjects, still result in oodles of raucous laughter.

The lives of my siblings do not revolve around our neat little nuclear family unit any more. I think my mother did a fantastic job of raising fully formed humans, even though, she sometimes (and I when it comes to my siblings) have a hard time adjusting to the way our family roles have changed.

My brother, who, when we were growing up, would easily toss my sisters and I around like his own personal rag dolls, acknowledged yesterday while he was struggling to carry my sister up a flight of stairs, either she’s getting heavy or he’s getting old (both, of course, are true). But I couldn’t help remembering how easily he would have accomplished that same task a few years ago.

Over this holiday break, I have had a chance to hang out with some of my “big” cousins.  I mean those cousins that were grown (and uber cool in my young eyes) when I was a teenager.  Lil’ Moni used to sneak and listen to the “adult” conversations that would flow around them.  They were usually about who’s having sex, is it any good, how often and with whom -apparently conversations that I was too young to hear then (and I didn’t understand them anyway), but now …. now is a different story. Now, not only is my participation requested in these conversations, it’s damn near mandatory. I can’t count the number of times this week that my family asked me about my “social life”.  And the stories that they tell, wow. I could write a book.

And now my big cousins have kids of their own, kids whose ears are routinely covered or who are flat out told to go outside and play, but who I am sure are smart enough to figure it out what the hell is going on.

But I have a very important question. Where did all the time go?

I say all this to say that time keeps on ticking, ticking, ticking, into the future. And there is NOTHING we can do about it.

As much as I’d like to keep my siblings young, carefree and innocent of the dirt, evil, and suffering in this world, I can’t. Life happens, man. As much as I will always remember my big cousins, some of whom are in their 40’s now, as young and bright and shiny twenty and thirtysomethings marching toward the prime of their lives, I must remind myself that I am now in that position.  If my life is to move forward (and it must) then I have be aware that time stands still for no one.

We get two choices: move of our own volition or get run over. I’m not getting run over, but repeatedly this holiday season has reminded me,

Cherish this time. Soak it up. Remember this. You will never live this moment again.

And luckily, I listened.