Remember When We Used to Get Drunk Together?

   
Yeah, me neither. But damn! Those hangovers were a bitch, weren't they?

On my way home from work today I was thinking hard about potential blog posts. Usually driving is a great time for me to brainstorm, but lately? Not so much. I've got nothing. Nothing at all. In fact, It's time to take an official hiatus.

So... I'm officially taking a break. I realize I've been on a break for awhile now, but at least by making it "official" I'll no longer feel guilty about not posting. I'm too distracted by all the great things happening in my life right now to give this blog proper attention.

(Yes, this is my actual baby-to-be. Yes, baby-to-be is a girl.)

Do I intend on returning? Who knows? I've got some events and get togethers and time off coming up in the near future, so... maybe. In the meantime, you can still find me writing about the "joys" of teaching art to snot-nosed brats at Art Teachers Hate Glitter, or you can find me and all my new found gushy soft spots for pretty girly things at The Bittersweet Blonde (If you're the kind of person who's interested in baby updates and style and design, this is the place for you). 

'Till next time! Or not.

Color Me Tragic

     

I don't make decisions, decisions make me. 

I am practically incapable of making any decisions in my life, and instead I permit life to sort of just unravel and occur around me and then I figure out how to fit myself in to it. 

I don't know what in the fucking hell is wrong with me.

I don't act, I react.

I don't think I've ever been in a situation where my actions weren't just my reactions to given circumstances that happen to present themselves.

I don't think ahead. I don't plan ahead. Shit, I don't even make a lunch for myself in the morning before I go to work because it doesn't occur to me that I'm going to be hungry in five hours. 

I've never planned for the future because I've been too busy surviving in the present.

I wouldn't know what it means to be happy if it stood up and punched me in the face. I understand what it means to be miserable and lonely and sad and depressed. Happy? I don't know if I know what that feels like. Which doesn't mean I haven't tried, I'm just so used to the other feelings and have become so comfortable and familiar with them over the past thirty years I've been on this earth that to be happy would be a push out of my comfort zone.

How does one even attain happiness? How does one even try to attain it? What does it even mean?

Was it that giggly, light-headed feeling I once had? Was happiness that time that I couldn't stop smiling? And that time that I wanted to just... melt? Was that happiness? And if so, how do I ever get that back?

You once called me "tragic". I don't doubt there's truth in that.

I just don't know any other way to be.

Is there anything else I can get for you?

How long does one continue job searching in their field before throwing in the towel and giving up? I've read numerous articles lately that have been discussing the fact that while many, many people remain unemployed, some employers are having a hard time filling open positions. This was explained by the theory that people are having a difficult time reconciling the significant difference between the job they once had and the jobs that are available. No one wants to go from working at a cushy office job to driving trucks all day.

I've been wrestling with this issue too. As my job searching continues to beat me down, I've begun to consider possible alternatives to teaching. Not long-term, mind you, just temporary so I can pay the bills. I feel as if I've gotten to the point where I might have to fall-back on my old stand-by, waiting tables. When I tell this to the people in my life, I get different reactions from them. (Image Source)

The G-Man, who waited tables a time or two in college, has a BA in psychology and was ushered into a completely unrelated field of work a month after graduating and is now on the cusp of earning six figures, thinks waiting tables is a viable option for me.

SMos, who waited tables for many years in NYC, just completed the same Masters program as me, and has been working as an art teacher for almost six years in a public school in Brooklyn, thinks waiting tables is one option, but agrees that it would suck, but also points out how great the pay could be, but then laments about how shitty it would be to have to wait tables again, and then suggests other options for me and frequently emails and texts me with job possibilities she stumbles across (I love her).

Thing Two, who I have no knowledge of any of his experience waiting tables, has a Bachelors degree and a Masters, has shelled out tens of thousands of dollars to become a lawyer, and is now pushing papers for some government agency in DC, thinks that my talk of being a waitress reflects a defeatist's attitude.

Twin, who waited tables for a while in The Middle of Nowhere, Texas (while pregnant, mind you), has a Bachelors degree and a Masters in teaching, and is now working as a stay-at-home mom to her two beautiful sons because she can't find a job teaching English, thinks... well, now that I think about it, I don't recall what her thoughts on the subject were.

As you can imagine, I'm torn. I don't want to settle for a job, and I understand that many big wigs in the know cite this exact attitude as the reason so many people remain unemployed. I have explored options outside of teaching that don't include waiting tables, but have thus far come up with a big fat goose egg. I know that, in theory, I can continue job searching while waiting tables, but if you've ever waited tables full-time before, you know that the level of exhaustion I would experience, both mental and physical, would drain me of all my energy and leave very little left for job hunting. (Image Source)

While bouncing back and forth with this, I've compiled two lists outlining the pros and cons of me returning to waiting tables.

Why I Wouldn't Mind Waiting Tables Again

1. The pay can be good.
2. It's immediate money.
3. I like interacting with people.
4. It was one of my dream jobs when I was seven.
5. I like being super busy.
6. It's good for the thighs. And the butt.
7. It would get me out of the house.
8. I'm good at it.

Why I Would Hate Waiting Tables Again

1. It's exhausting.
2. People can be rude and demanding.
3. You're often not treated like a real person.
4. Customers judge you.
5. The hours suck. And you have to work evenings and weekends. Or else they fire you.
6. I hate not having a set schedule.
7. I have a Masters degree.
8. I'm concerned I wouldn't even get hired, and I'm not sure I can stand any more rejection.
9. I have severe pain in my left foot that I've been ignoring for about two or three years now ever since I fell down the stairs that one time but refused to go to the hospital because I didn't have health insurance.
10. I'm klutzy.
11. I don't like being bossed around.
12. I'd have to wear Happy Face all the time.
13. I'd smell like food all the time.
14. The smell of food would start making me gag.
15. My face would break out from all the grease.

Of course, I could always fall back on my other fall-back, substituting. The pay wouldn't be immediate and I wouldn't be guaranteed work, but at least it would always be M-F daytime work. And it would allow me to get my foot in the door of area schools. And even though subbing sucks on a level so unimaginable those of you who have never done it couldn't even begin to imagine, it would keep my teaching skills all shiny and pretty. 

Of course, then there's the bills this month. *Sigh* Anyone want to pay my car payment for me?

(Image Source)

Mountain Girl, meet City Girl

"Well, I guess you're the city girl."

Or so says my mom, the last time I spoke to her.

I guess she's right.

I couldn't imagine returning to my hometown for any extensive length of time. A weekend is fine, a night is better, but anything more than that is just unbearable.

I grew up in a small town in the Adirondacks in Northern NY. As in, two hours north of Albany (yes, NY State continues beyond Albany, and I'm not talking about Buffalo either). I suppose it could have been worse. I mean, if we're talking crime, well, crime was pretty much non-existent in my hometown. A picturesque town boasting a population of 1,250 (2008), my hometown is one of the most serene and non-threatening places you could raise a family. Of course, it's also one of the most boring, uneventful and seriously lacking in opportunity towns to grow up in. It's no surprise that very few young residents stick around after graduation. In fact, as soon as I graduated, I cut out of there as fast as I could.

 My hometown. Yes, this is actually a picture of the town I grew up in. Believe it or not. 

In case you're wondering, my homes (yes, plural) were miles away from here. In the mountains.

Ever since I left, I've been trying to find my place in the world. So far, that journey has taken me to five different regions in NY state. It seems the closer I get to large, metropolitan areas, the happier I am. Despite my introverted tendencies. I'm pretty positive I was born to be a city girl. I blame the ADD in me. I crave activity and nightlife and excitement and chaos and attention and sushi at 10 pm and pizza at 3 am. I want it all. I need it all. That wasn't always the case, however.

I am a born-and-raised, true-blue, mountain girl. I spent my summers barefoot. I swam in mountain lakes and rode four-wheelers down mountain roads. I picked blackberries with my sisters, while keeping an eye out for bears. I can drive a stick-shift, and I know how to drive in the snow, ice and rain. I know what it's like to have to hike up the driveway because it's too muddy/icy to drive up. I've seen deer gutted, skinned and hanging from the rafters of a garage. I know what poutine, Red Hots and Michigans are and I know where to get the best of both.

The house my dad built. Literally. I lived here for a majority of the first 15 years of my life. 
My dad used to own over 100 acres of the surrounding forests.

I've partied in the woods, around a bonfire, with mosquitoes nipping at my ankles. I've partied on the Lake while middle-aged women parade around in their obscenely small bikinis. I've partied in run-down bars in the middle of nowhere featuring strippers who were missing their teeth (a story for another day). I've partied in bars with rednecks, hicks and townies. I've partied at pig roasts. I've partied in fields with guitar-playing, bongo-pounding hippies. I've partied with the band. I've partied with the cooks. I partied on the Swastika (there's a story behind this). I've partied in the snow, the rain, the sun, the sleet and the mud. I've partied in tents, in trailers, in trucks and in back-woods camps. Oh yes, I have partied in the mountains.

In the mountains, function comes before fashion. In the mountains, sometimes you have to bathe in the lake when your well has dried up during a particularly dry summer. In the mountains, you know how to live with no power for a week when there's an ice storm. In the mountains, you can't get cable, high-speed internet or cell phone coverage. In the mountains, your neighborhood is the woods.

Growing up, my sisters and I spent hours playing in the woods. I loved the smell of the woods, and I loved to wander through them and imagine that I was in some other country or fantasy land. The woods were my refuge when I was sad, angry or lonely. Being so surrounded by nature was calming and peaceful. Of course, it was also very isolating and restricting.

 The areas of NYS that I've lived in. See how I've been making my way down the state? 
Obviously the city has been calling to me for years and drawing me closer and closer.

I fell in love with big cities after my first trip to NYC. It only took two more trips to NYC and a trip to Philadelphia to solidify my desire to live in a metropolitan area. In a couple of days I'll be moving to the outskirts of DC. While in my heart I will always be a mountain girl, I'm super excited to become a city girl. I can't wait to explore the DC area and discover new things. And hopefully find a job along the way as well. Call me crazy, but I love the idea of walking everywhere and riding public transportation (I'm sure that novelty will wear off pretty quickly).

Over the past eight or nine months, I have made several trips to NOVA and the DC area, and I'm psyched to become a part of the city lifestyle. While I have some reservations about my move, these reservations are limited to the personal aspects of my life. I have no reservations about living in NOVA/DC. The food, the nightlife, the hustle and bustle and excitement of it all (and hopefully better job prospects)... I can't wait!

Me, in the mountains. Some of you might remember this picture from my first ever blog header. 
Or was it my second?

Of course, my change in lifestyle will inevitably affect my blog. While I hope to maintain a constant presence in the blogging community, I can't guarantee that I will be able to follow through with that. That being said, here's what I anticipate for my blog down the road:

• I hope to make "Previously on the OBG" a regular feature on Mondays, but those posts are a lot of work and not always worth it, but I anticipate my weekends to be more fun and exciting, so I'll probably have more to write about. Eh, let's see how this one goes.
• Random Shit Tuesday will stay. I always have random shit to say.
• I expect to dedicate my infrequent weekend posts to the shit that I like. For example, my I ♥ Etsy posts and other things that are more for me as a way to document me and my style preferences. No one reads blogs on the weekends anyways, right?
• As for the rest of the week, I expect to still bring you the intelligent, insightful, clever writing that I've been bringing to you all along. Wait, what? Yeah, you heard me. I'm insightful, intelligent and clever. And you will be hearing from me. I just can't guarantee it will be every day. Like I said, we'll see how it goes.

I'm sure I'll have lots of tales to tell and experiences to report upon. Maybe I'll find myself a job and regale you all with work-related posts. Or maybe I'll make tons of new friends and share my wild times with you. Or maybe I'll just bitch about the horrors of moving and starting over. Or maybe I'll become one of those bloggers who talks about my personal relationships. No I won't. Don't worry, I'll never be that person (not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just not for me). 

In the meantime, if anyone has any NOVA/DC advice or suggestions, I would love to hear them. I'm talking about good places to live. Good places to eat. Good places to go on the weekends. Good places to shop. How to survive the Metro. And so on and so on.

I hope I'm making the right decision with this move. This Mountain Girl is about to become a City Girl. Wish me luck!

One Blonde Girl 101

When I started this blog, it began as a place for me to reflect on "my journey through life". At the time, I was at a much different place in life (read: happier). My blog was not meant to be humorous nor was it meant to be bitter nor was it meant to be what it has become. It has since evolved into what you see before you. A place for me to rant and rave, bitch and moan, tell funny (hopefully) stories and bond with other bloggers about the woes of life. 

One such blogger is The Naked Writer over at The Writing Womb. I find her ability to be open and honest with the world about the trials and tribulations of her life admirable. She recently wrote a post, The Naked Writer 101, which was both informative and inspiring. Influenced by her frankness, and her "utter disregard for couthness" (yeah, I quoted myself. What of it?) I present to you...

One Blonde Girl 101

       

Because what's a post without a pic? And yes, that is me. (Source)

1. I love pickles. The tangier the better. I love pickles so much that if you leave a pickle on your plate unaccompanied, I will totally eat it on you and then pretend I have no idea what happened to it. True story. Your pickles are not safe with me.

2. I buy clothes with pockets because I never know what to do with my arms in social situations. Pockets are safe and comforting. In a perfect world, every article of clothing would have pockets.

3. When I was in high school I hated being blonde and wanted to dye my hair black but then a friend of mine told me that if I did, my hair would be black permanently, and that scared me, so I didn't.

4. I once hit a flock of birds with my mom's car and killed at least three of them. I've also caused the deaths of a bat and a cat via vehicular manslaughter.

5. I'm a night owl. I'm most productive and energetic after 7 pm. Some nights it will last until 4 am. This makes it very hard for me to be productive in the real world.

6. I function the best on 6 hours of sleep. Any more or less and I'm useless.

7. I dream of being a tattoo artist. Unfortunately, I have a thing against needles.

8. I can't stand to watch any scene in a movie that involves cutting a person. Any other kind of violence is fine, but not cutting.

9. I love horror movies. Especially haunted house and zombie movies. I hate Sci-Fi though. Hate it.

10. I'm constantly changing my mind. Which probably explains why my blog goes through so many transformations. And why I can't decide what to call myself. "April"? "One Pea"? "One Blonde Girl"?

11. I'm not a cat person. There. I said it. I don't like cats. I'll take a dog over a cat any day. The bigger, the better. (I once had a cat that I loved with all my heart. He had six toes on each foot and the funniest looking face. But then he up and died. One minute he was frolicking outside, and the next, he was dead. I don't think I ever got over that.)

12. I've never (knowingly) been involved with or pursued a guy who was already in a relationship. That's the biggest no-no ever. In my opinion. In fact, discovering that a guy was already involved was an instant turn-off for me. He could have been my soul mate and looked like Clive Owen, but as soon as I found out he was married or had a girlfriend, he turned into Steve Buscemi.

13. I've never had stitches. Thank god, because I don't know how I could handle that (see #7).

14. The first time (and unfortunately, not the last) I ever felt violated by a boy was in the first grade when a classmate who liked to look up the girls' skirts hugged me during nap time. It took me many years to get over that.

15. I've never finished a piece of art work. Never. Ever. It's a mental thing. I just can't do it.

16. I'm envious of people who have close relationships with their parents. I don't.

17. I don't do makeup. Possibly because no one ever showed me how. Or possibly because I can think of better, more important things to spend money on.

18. My knees are always hairy. Always. I can't seem to figure out how to work a razor around the knobbiness of my knees.

19. The most traumatic years of my life seem to end with 5s.
1985- I started Kindergarten and hated it and my teacher so much. I cried and cried and cried. The only way they could get me to go peacefully was bribing me with reading time with the other Kindergarten teacher.
1995- Well, in a nutshell, it began with the development of an eating disorder and accumulated with my dad booting me from his house. And a little bit of everything else thrown in for good measure.
2005- Well, I'm not quite ready to talk about this time of my life yet.
Needless to say, I dread 2015.

20. I have a twin sister.

21. I hate Lima beans. Hate 'em.

22. I hate housework. If I ever have a house (and a job), I'm totally hiring a housekeeper. I don't care. I'm doing it.

23. I don't watch ANTM on a regular basis, but anytime there's a marathon on, I'm glued to the TV.

24. I can't really pin down what makes me happy. Not specifically, but when I am happy, you'll know instantly because I make up little songs and dances and I spin.

25. I can't remember the last time in my life I was really, truly happy with my life.

26. I'm a really good multitasker, except when it comes to the big things, like education and relationships and career, then I have to choose one to focus on.

27. Most of the decisions I've made in my life were based on what other people wanted, not what I wanted myself. It's made for a very miserable life, but I'm working on living life for me now.

28. I live in constant fear of settling.

29. I don't trust words. I trust actions.

30. My favorite life advice comes from Magic Hat beer caps.

31.  I can't figure out if I'm more afraid of succeeding or of failing. I pick the middle road by not even trying.

32. My dad used to be the captain of a cargo ship. I was a world traveler until about age 8.

33. My dad's family owns a button factory in Iowa and were innovators in the pearl button industry. I think that's awesome.

34. I hate shopping. Any kind of shopping. Hate it.

35. I love helping people and making their lives easier. It makes me feel good, productive and accomplished.

36. My first real boyfriend was abusive and cheated on me frequently. That was the first and the last time I ever allowed a guy to treat me that way.

37. I love my feet, my knees, my hips, and my collar bones. Basically all the bony parts of my body.

38. Mind-altering substances scare me a little. Not that I'm afraid of their effects, but that I would enjoy them too much and would end up on an episode of Intervention.

39. I hate stuff. I don't understand why people insist on having so much stuff. Every time I move I purge more and more useless stuff and it makes me feel so good.

40. I feel guilty over my grandfather's death. It's totally irrational and illogical, but I often wonder if he would have still fallen down the stairs if I had chosen not to move away.

41. I don't know how to want things. In my mind, wanting something is wrong and a sign of weakness. I can't explain this. Well, I can, but we don't have the time to get into it.

42. I have to have a million and one things going on at once in order to not be bored.

43. I love strawberries.

44. I love music.

45. I love driving a stick shift. It makes me feel strong and powerful.

46. I'm terrified of having kids.

47. I hate spending other peoples money.

48. I often wish I could see myself through other people's eyes. I'm sure they don't see me the way I think they do.

49. I don't regret breaking up with any of my exes.

50. When it comes to intimate relationships, I think bodily functions should always remain private. Always. There are some things I just don't ever want to hear, see or smell. Ever.

51. I have scars on my body that make me severely insecure, force me to be extremely conscious of the way I do things at all times and make me fear the moment someone notices them and asks me about them.

52. I love getting dirty (you can interpret that any way you want).

53. I hate making small chitchat and will avoid encounters with people just to avoid meaningless chitchat.

54. I don't like day-hikes. If I'm going to put in the effort required to go hiking there better be a tent and a cozy sleeping bag at the end of the trail. And a campfire with S'mores.

55. I don't see the point in watching sports on TV. Unless it's the Super Bowl and I'm at a party with lots of alcohol and pizza. Otherwise, what's the point? I do enjoy the excitement of watching them in person. Except for baseball. And golf. And probably curling too.

56. I hate red roses. Hate them. I once got red roses for my birthday from a boyfriend. In November. My birthday is in January. Epic failure. I once received a bouquet of daisies from a guy I was dating. For no reason other than he thought I would like them. Epic success.

57. I'm severely indecisive and can never make up my mind about what I want or like. My brain literally becomes paralyzed whenever anyone asks me what I want or like. I'm trying to work on this. It's not going so well.

58. I have a hard time not judging people for their choice in music, reading material and other entertainment choices (like TV). Sorry.

59. I have sacrificed more of my life for relationships than I would like to admit. I'm trying to work on this.

60. I miss the friendships I had in high school.

61. I have an irrational fear of getting my haircut. Which is why I only get it cut once or twice a year. I've had so many bad experiences. Some day I would like to leave the hair salon with the hair cut I went in there expecting to get. Some day.

62. I have an irrational fear of birds.

63. It's easier for me to be friends with men than with women. I don't get the drama that comes along with having female friends. And I have a hard time relating to women. I'm not sure why.

64. I'm a chronic procrastinator.

65. I love sushi. I never thought I would, but I do.

66. I often wish I could get rid of all my stuff, jump in my car and drive away. Far, far away and start a brand new life where no one knows me. Kind of like Delia Grinstead in Ladder of Years by Ann Tyler. Tyler's books always give me perspective on my life.

67. I love the cartoon, Chowder.

68. I once dated a musician. He wrote a song about me. His band broke up not long after, before they even had a chance to perform the song in public. I was more bothered by that fact than the fact that we broke up as well not long after.

69. I've never had a successful one-night stand. And by successful, I mean, one in which the guy didn't want more. Some of my longest relationships were the result of failed one-night stands.

70. I love gumballs. I've never met a gumball I didn't love. Even the stale ones that have been sitting in the machine for 6 years.

71. I've become more spontaneous and less controlled as the years go by. And here I was afraid it would go the opposite way.

72. In college, I once allowed others to believe that I had slept with someone because I would have felt bad for the guy if his friends had found out the truth. (The truth was, I refused to sleep with him after discovering how small his penis was. I lied and told him I was having my period. And then I slept in my roommate's bed. He had a rep to maintain, and I didn't want to become the source of any suffering for him.)

73. I rarely ever give a shit about what others think about me in any given situation (see #72 above) because I know the truth, and in my mind, that's all that matters.

74. I hate it when I'm forced to justify my actions to someone else. I would love it if I could just act of my own accord and only have to answer to myself.

75. After years and years and years of being in relationships, I feel like I'm all used up.

76. It's easier for me to tell this stuff to strangers than it is for me to tell this stuff to the people who love and care about me. I can't say I'm really trying to work on this.

77. I rarely wash my hands. Not properly at least.

78. I can't stand Molly Ringwald.

79. I can't stand anything really sugary sweet. Like girly drinks. And fancy pastries (egg issue aside). And frosting. And sweet tea. And sweet coffee. (Chocolate is the exception. As long as it isn't gag-me sweet)

80. I have four sisters and a brother. My stepfather always complained about being outnumbered when we were growing up. Now he has four grandsons (officially. Six unofficially, as in, not belonging to my siblings but to their significant others) and a granddaughter. Coincidence? I think not.

81. Only one of my siblings is married. But he's currently going through a divorce, so I guess it no longer counts.

82. Life just won't let me forget the person I'm trying to forget. Stupid life.

83. My mom bought me and my twin the Betty Crocker Cookbook: Bridal Edition years ago, claiming that we'd never get married, so she might as well just buy it for us while it was still available. (Thanks Mom. Your faith in us is so uplifting and inspiring. And don't think I don't know what you're getting at when you hint that you'll never have anymore grandchildren. I get it. I'm an epic failure. I've accepted it. You should too.)

84. I often feel like the black sheep of the family.

85. I once had a student removed from an elective art class I was teaching because he was sexually harassing me. True story.

86. I hate it when people ask me for advice or expect me to comment on a predicament they've gotten themselves into. People rarely want the truth in these situations, and that's usually all I'm willing to dish out because I hate blowing smoke up people's asses.

87. My sexuality often scares me and sometimes feels like more than I can handle (see #88 below).

88. I have a hard time remaining faithful in relationships. I'm trying to work on this.

89. I have a hard time letting people down/disappointing them/breaking their hearts/and so on and so on. It's a guilt thing. I blame my childhood. More specifically, my parents. I'm trying to work on this. (It's not going so well)

90. I believe that dying is like sleeping, but without the dreams.

91. I have a hard time believing in anything that isn't tangible.

92. I love to bake. And plan parties (but not necessarily attend them. I prefer to be behind the scenes. Unless it's of the beer-drinking variety. And especially if there's a bonfire.).

93. I once played a nerd in my class' senior play. I loved it. It fed the acting bug I had been harboring since the eighth grade, but I was realistic, and I knew that where I grew up, the opportunity would never present itself.

94.  I love to cook but I only think it's worth the effort when I cook for someone(s) other than myself.

95. I have a bladder the size of a walnut. This isn't backed by any medical evidence, just by the fact that I have to pee ALL THE FREAKIN' TIME.

96. I have a heart-shaped uterus. This is backed by medical evidence. You would think this would make for a more loving uterine environment. This is not the case. Apparently it makes for a more inhospitable one. Whatever. We'll cross that bridge if we ever get there.

97. I once had dreams of becoming a soccer superstar. But then I hurt my knee and lost all confidence in myself (FYI, this was just one of the many downfalls that occurred in 1995).

98. I love my sisters. We're not all that close, so I often fear that they don't know this, but I do.

99. I prefer to make my own wrapping paper.

100. I don't eat fast food nor do I drink soda. I have no regrets about this.

101. I used to hate my first name, but now I kind of like it. I just wish it were easier for people to remember it (Seriously, it's a month. What's so hard about remembering a month?).

This post has been very therapeutic for me. It won't even bother me if you didn't read through all 101 items because it meant more for me to write it than it did to have anyone read it (quite possibly related to #73?).

And that is that.

What's a wandering girl to do?

   

So, I received this email from my post office tonight, and I immediately began to panic:

Dear April:

Your renewal fee of $30.00 for the PO Box listed below is due on 03/31/2010.

PO Box:                          1134

Post Office location:         41 Main St.

I signed up for a 6-month PO Box last October when I was unsure of where I would be moving to at the end of the month (at the time, I was temporarily staying at the farm house of a friend of one of my sisters. It's a long story). A girl needs to get her mail, you know? Well, it appears my six months is almost up, and I'm left with a bit of a dilemna. I graduate grad school in May (fingers crossed) and have no idea where I'll be living or what my address will be after that. Do I...

1. renew my rental for another 6-months with the understanding that I might only need it for another two months?
2. have my mail forwarded to my current physical address for the next two months (I really hate the forwarding/change of address process, which I seem to do at least once a year) only to have to forward it again after that?
3. ... I forgot what my third option was, but I'm pretty sure there was one.

The point is, I have a big decision to make here. It seems I am once again approaching a crossroads where I must determine my next big move (and I don't mean the PO Box. I mean finding a job, moving...). How did this come upon me so quickly? Wasn't it just September and I was moving back to NY from VA

 

(sigh) The life of a nomadic soul.