It’s like 3:30 and I’m still awake. More like too tired to turn the computer off and go to sleep. The moody music is playing in the background and I’m comfortably propped up in my bed staring at the screen. As if it were a magic mirror, I sit, stare, and wait for it to reflect some glint of eureka, some blink of promise, some flash of hope.

Genius always came late in the night. At least when I was younger. When I was younger, I thought my words could or would one day change the world. My words were ingenious and deep and flowed freely. My words were powerful, evoked emotion. My words flooded pages with ink late in the night. The feverish tapping of keys they inspired would triumph over deep slumber.

But now I sit and stare and ponder. As it grows later, could I grow younger? Can I turn back the clock as it marches forward? Or could I at least get back that lust and zeal I used to have for life, for words? When can I stop being so cynical? Can I possibly exhaust myself to the point of creativity? Will the deprivation  permit me to dream again? Or must I just be?

So, today is my last day affiliated with the school I work for (well, affliliated by paycheck), and it’s fitting that not a single soul is showing up for tutoring. I think I’ve been tutoring since March each week and only two people have ever come in.

But especially today as I have countless other things I should be doing with my time, I am stuck in this computer lab with my throat growing extremely dry (there’s no food or drinks allowed in the room) and nothing to do. Seriously. Only an hour and a half have gone by. Geesh. I’m seriously thinking about calling in sick at my other job. (It wouldn’t be a complete stretch. I feel completely tired out and do feel the hint of something coming on. If I get sick for starting my new job…)

So, this day, as many such days in my life, seems like such an unceremonious departure. It’s funny how much of ourselves we put in to what we do. And in the end, folks always seem to remind us that there’s always someone else out there that can easily fill our shoes.

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Here’s what I should be doing with this time:

Reading more of The Shack. I have really fallen out of reading, one of my big joys in life. But this book has been extremely difficult for me to get into. I just can’t get past the whole thing of God allowing such horrible things to happen in this world. I know it all makes sense outside of my understanding (and getting to that point is one of the biggest points of this story), but it’s such a struggle to get there.

Writing something. Is it possible to lose all of your creativity? I feel like I have. I so desperately need a muse or kick in the butt or something. Each time I attempt to write, I feel like I have nothing. Am already washed up before I even get started?

Taking a nap. Seriously, I wish I could fall asleep right now. I am so bored. These tutoring session have felt like punishment to the instructor. I sit in a computer lab for four hours all alone with no human interaction, food, or water. I’m so not going to miss spending my Friday mornings this way. So, is cubicle life better? Please it is.

While my life thus far this year hasn’t been filled with the kind of adventures you’d write home about, it has indeed been filled with adventure.

Just two weeks ago, I was questioning what I’d do with this blog, seeing as I most likely would no longer be a Virginia Beach resident. But as luck would have it, VA, you’re stuck with me for a wee bit longer (well, hopefully, longer than that).

So, where to begin?

Last year’s cravings:

This time last year, I was just winding down my amazing fellowship in Nevada, where I met a group of the most incredible people, who I am now bonded to for life!

Maynard

It was during my time with these great journalists that I was reminded that I, too, am pretty darn good at what I do. My confidence was rebuilt that summer, and I left Reno craving more out of my professional life, unaware of the challenges that awaited.

Fast forward a few months later, I learned that the newspaper I worked for was closing, and I soon would be stranded in Virginia Beach without a job. While I have moved past Link closing, it is still a very emotional subject for me. Regardless of anything else, each one of us on staff gave that publication our all, and it was something we all passionately believed in. And I could go on for days… =(

nolinkBut that’s a whole other post.

So, now it’s almost Christmas, and I’ve turned 30 and am unemployed—not at all were I saw my life headed. I remember about five minutes to my actual birthday, I went into complete panic mode. Friends began calling me wishing me well, and I was in tears dreading the witching hour. What would I have to show for myself? How could this really be considered a “happy birthday”?

But this roller coaster ride had quite a few more turns around the bend.

The day before Christmas, just as my mom and I were driving down to North Carolina to spend time with family, I got a call about a job interview. And within the first week of January, I had a new job—English instructor at a local career college. (The ride still wasn’t over quite yet.)

I was beyond stoked to get my  very own classroom, be able to shape pliable minds. Never in my wildest dreams did I know what I was getting into.

My first modular of students was a dream. They made me want to go get my doctorate in education and save the world one adult student at a time. Then the honeymoon ended with the next mod where I was cursed out by a student and lacked the support of the administration. After that session, my heart and financial stability slowly slipped away from the job. As my workload for classes lighted, my paycheck grew smaller, and I found myself on temporary unemployment. To top it all off, my car needed (and still needs) very costly repairs. So, I had to get a second job.

Enter the good times at Trader Joe’s.

traderjoes

Let me just say, I love Trader Joe’s, and with almost the same intensity I loved (still love) Link. Well, almost or kinda. It is such a fun job to work with such wonderful people.

Yet, it’s still not enough to pay the bills. And with my paycheck from the college being now reduced to $4.12 (I’m not exaggerating), I’ve found myself yet taking another roller coaster nose dive and praying that the guardrail is enough to hold me in.

It’s funny how it happened. The Sunday before I was hit with “we have no classes for you, and I’m not too sure we’ll have classes for you in the next mod either,” there was a miracle offering at my church.

The miracle offering is where people give for a specific church need (this year we are praying to raise money to pave the parking lot) and offer up requests for personal miracles.

Last year, I was so hyped about the miracle offering as I heard so many of the women in my church cell group (a small group that meets outside of church) talk about how God met their miracles in the previous year. So, while I still wasn’t in town last summer to participate in the actual offering, I participated from afar and clung to the paper on which I wrote down what I was praying for the next year.

And then, the one thing I so dilligently prayed for every day didn’t come true. Honestly, I admit to being mad at God about it for several months. To this day, I still don’t understand why my miracle wasn’t granted, but I know that there is some higher reasoning for it all.

And yet still struggling for complete peace about it all, I put myself out there again—I stepped out on faith offering more than I comfortably had at the time, believing in God. And the very next day I’m hit with this from the school.

But the ride’s not over.

Just last week, I was offered a job that is going to pay more than I had even asked for. And I’ll be getting back to writing, which is what I want to do. And I’ll be writing in a format I’m not quite used to, which is the exact level of challenge I’ve been looking for for awhile. So, God has come through. Miracles do happen!

But still the ride’s not over; God’s always taking you for another loop, pushing you to cling even closer to Him.

So, what’s the reminder?

Well, my best friend constantly gets on me about how I need to be writing. And my little sister today wrote me and told me how much she enjoys reading what I write (even e-mails!). So, I’ve been reminded of what I should be doing with my time and that I should write all of this down to share with you!

And all throughout upstairs at work. With all of the water damage in the ceiling, the school has involuntarily taken up a science experiment of seeing how long what I’m certain from the smell must be toxic mold can grow above our heads before it affects the students. (But could it really bring their grades down anymore? Just kidding. I’ve lucked out with mostly decent students this time around.) It has gotten to the point of them no longer allowing classes to go up there (mind you, I moved out of my classroom after it went underwater and falling ceiling tiles threatened to take out a couple of students).

At any rate, my latest class has finally gotten through Hamlet. It was very shaky at times—at many times—but I am pleased to report that no one has failed. I’m not too sure my little lessons have fallen on appreciative ears or that my students have gotten too much out of cramming one of The Bard’s greatest in eight days, but we got through it.

And I’ve gotten through another five-week session of classes and five weeks of working pulling 13-hour work days most days with only two workfree days in those five weeks (no exaggeration). So you can almost understand why I haven’t been writing in forever, right?

But all of that is hopefully going to change soon. As I found out on Monday, there are no classes for me to teach for the next modular. This is completely not what I signed up for, but I won’t get into that one this posting. So, perhaps, I shall soon be writing for my supper, or something like that.

I couldn’t quite master the elliptical the other day.

Last week, I started taking personal training sessions. Although it’s hard work and I don’t have too many good thoughts about my training going through my head when I’m actually in my sessions (but she’s really sweet), I’m really excited about it. I’m excited about the end results. If I do all I’m supposed to do, I’ll have my smoking hot body back in just a few months. Well, truth be told, my body will never quite be what it once was because you can never quite go back to the way things used to be.

“Go forward!” Jody, my training, kept encouraging me as she was adjusting all of the levels and whatever on the machine.

But it took me the longest time to get the hang of it. I don’t know why, but I kept cycling backwards. For some odd reason, going backwards just seemed so much easier. Yet, it wasn’t getting me anywhere…

That much it seems can be said about life.

Lately, I’ve wanted to do nothing more than just pack up my bags and go home. I’m just tired of continually forcing myself to put on a bright smile when this dark cloud of loneliness keeps following me around.

I’ve always been one to roll with the punches and make lemonade and all that other stuff they always say to do when faced with adversity. But sometimes it’s just hard to do. Some days I just want to stop fighting back tears and have someone there to lean on and tell me it’s OK. Some days I just want to be myself and not have to work so hard to try to make friends. I just want people to like me for all of the good and the bad. I had that at home.

So, why did I ever leave? 

Yet, as much as I want to just head back some days, I know I can’t. I can’t go backwards. There’s no growth in that.

And things have changed. People have moved on, gotten married, fallen out of friendships, created new friendships, and passed away.

So, I’ll just keep moving forward. There is progress to be made. And if I keep moving toward the horizon, one day the sun will rise ahead of me.