Soledad

There's a long road ahead and she slips into the driver’s seat.
She doesn't know where she's going,
but she's headed for a place where her heart and her head meet.

Driving away, she’s driving away.
No destination in sight,
but she'll find her way.

Warnings were there, this time, she knows.
Feeling the pull of the road
and the push from here for her to go.
There’s more here, don't go, but she's gone.
He stands with his guitar, hallow breeze,
and he waits until dawn.

Driving away, she’s driving away.
No destination in sight,
but she'll find her way.

Trying to call out, trying to remind her each mile she gains.
Her eyes are ahead, no looking back. This hurt will wane;
letting go of the pain.
Her tears aren't fuel, but its working. Memories aren't company, but keep her on her way.
Too far gone to turn back,
do you hear the words I say?

Driving away, she drives away.
No destination in sight,
but she'll find her way.

Snapshots on the visor fade, letting go of the loss that she's always feared.
Hope is a breeze blowing through her hair.
Love is a whisper, but she's not there.

Driving away, she drives away
No destination in sight,
but she'll find her way.

Quarter-life Crisis: ✔

It's no secret that I have some quirky OCD habits and that I am a compulsive list maker. I love making lists! Christmas lists, grocery lists, goal lists, even spice lists! Pen and paper is my equivalent to a security blanket and list making is my little way of gaining control and perspective on situations. So, maybe that comparison to Joanne from Rent wasn't so far off, but I'd consider myself more of a Type A hybrid than a total square. I just hate that feeling of being "typecast" with certain expectations even if I have a few characteristics here or there. Life is full of expectation without much consideration for gray area. It seems to start when you are are school-aged, what crowd you fit into, what clubs you belong to. By the time you graduate high school, you are literally wearing your label in the form of a Letterman jacket. My whole existence has been spent in the gray area, never quite feeling like I've accomplished all those expectations. Now, I'm teetering the edge of my twenties (gasp), and I'm looking at that quintessential "Twenties checklist," and knowing that, once again, I have unfulfilled expectations. Everyone in or beyond their twenties has one of these lists whether they acknowledge it or not, and I personally believe that is one of the reasons hitting the 30 mark is so difficult. For some, the checklist is completed in perfect order, and by the time some turn 27, they can take inventory with a sense of accomplishment and bright-eyed naivety at the wonders that lie ahead in the next few years, others aren't so lucky and they may feel rushed to meet the deadline at the back-end of their 29th year, and still there are others that see the the list ahead, appreciate the few checks they have scattered on the page and wave the white flag of defeat that they have failed. What happens when you fail? Is that what drives once beautiful and perky young women to moo moos and beehives? Or once prospering young men to Bermuda shorts and moth balls? Let's take a look at the list. In our generation, our twenties are mainly spent establishing the type of person we want to be and hitting all the big spots in adult life, i.e. degrees, career, marriage, children, mortgage, credit card debit, travel, etc. (Reference LIFE, the board game, if you have any questions). Maybe I played house too much as a child, but my expectations for my twenties didn't veer too far from the list above, just add a little creative detailing. What went wrong? I've given it all my effort, but as I gain speed on the downhill slope to thirty, I feel incomplete and I feel that I have failed at my twenties. I know my life hasn't exactly followed the proper order of things (I'm pretty sure life-threatening disease was suppose to be a little further down the road), but I am struggling to understand that while these things are suppose to naturally progress, I have plateaued at such a young age. It's like a relay race, and people five years younger are speeding past, but I haven't been handed the baton. How do I respond to the questions: "What is your degree in? Do you own a home? When are you guys going to finally have kids?"...all I hear is, "You're how old? You haven't met our expectations. You haven't completed your twenties checklist. What's wrong with you?!" So, here I stand with my worn, yet incomplete list inching towards the front of the line for the inevitable 3-0. Will I be able to meet those expectations? Venture off into my thirties with 2.5 kids, a healthy career, and white picket fence? Or will I raise that white flag and adopt a few more cats? Maybe I'll just cross-over and give Maureen a try.

Be our guest

This is an odd confession, but I have to admit that the idea of a guest bedroom still kind of eludes me. Maybe it's because I grew up in a small house with two siblings and we never had a room designated for guests. When someone came over to stay, we just converted one of our bedrooms to the guest quarters. Since Wayne and I have moved from Texas, we have had a second bedroom reserved for guests and often extra things that we don't have a place for otherwise. Currently our guest bedroom also holds our vacuum, my wedding dress, sweaters, purses, military gear, Wayne's uniforms, and our fur babies. I do get a little sad having this bedroom, complete with a bed and chest of drawers newly refinished, because it's unoccupied. It's strange for me to have this part of my home that I rarely use and go days without even entering it. I would like to have another name for this room other than "guest." Maybe "The Billings' room," or "Kandy and Brooke's room," or possibly one day "Baby's room." Not having a true designation for this room makes it feel so hollow and vacant. I feel like the rest of my house is pretty much in order, well lived, active, but this whole section is longing to be used. Our house is small and one story, this extra square footage could be great some where else, but it is where it is and I like having this room; I feel like it is destined for something other than to be a generic "guest bedroom," only used on occasion. The times when we have had friends and family over, our house has a much homier feel and I forget about the desolation of that room. Every inch is filled with luggage, pets, toys, LIFE. During those times our house has no void, no space that isn't used. Along with these visits, however, is the ending and once again I'm left with this space, only this time, it feels even more lonely. I often walk by this room (after all, I have to if I wanna get to my bedroom or a bathroom) and I think about the visitors we've had stay there before and those possibly to come. The quiet of that room is sometimes more than I can bare and it's those times I wish there was someone to fill this space more than ever! I still clean this room on a regular basis: vacuum, dust, wash the sheets. It's always there, prepared and waiting. I guess that's the purpose of a guestroom, a special place in your home, reserved for what's, or should I say who's, to come.

Stowed Away

Vacations, traveling, and visiting friends and family have been a big part of my life the past two months. Vacations are great whether they have been planned for a year or if they are a spontaneous weekend getaway. Lately, my life has been all about coming and going; so eventful and exciting! Now that I finally have the time to sit and organize the pictures from these recent events, I'm finding so many moments I'm grateful to have captured. As we all know though, one of the biggest drawbacks to vacations is the packing and unpacking. No matter how conscious and neat I try to be when I pack, my suitcases are always a struggle to zip due to being over packed when I leave. Like any time in my life involving a scale, my fingers are always crossed when it comes to weighing, hoping I won't be over my limit. When I'm finally on my way, I always have the same fear, "Did I forget anything? Did I leave anything behind?" no matter how many times I retrace my steps those thoughts still linger. On the drive back after a wonderful weekend trip, I glanced back in the backseat at our luggage and thought about all the laundry and clean up I'd need to do when I got home, but something else occurred to me aside from the accumulation of belongings in the backseat, I realized that there is so much more that I am bringing back: I've got so many fantastic memories that I didn't have before. With these, comes all of the emotion I invested in each moment: the reunions, the surprises, the concerts, the dinners, the early morning rising, and all of the new places and people. With all of this, I still have that persistent fear, "Did I forget anything?" Unlike my packing concerns, this time the question is much more retrospective. I want to know that I made the most out of every second. Did I see everyone? Did I say thank you? Did I show enough appreciation? Did I say I love you? Did I make sure that each person knows how much they mean to me? Did I jump at every opportunity?... whether it be to dance around the living room in a tutu with my niece or bang on a cowbell off beat in front of 200 people while my best friend sings. Knowing that my time is limited, I am a sponge and I make sure I leave without regret. All of my experiences condensed to heartfelt memories preserved in my mind. Safekeeping and fuel to get me through a long stretch without my loved ones near. I cherish each piece I take with me from every visit and hope that I don't forget anything.

Come Fly With Me

This will probably sound strange, but I love airports. I love flying, I love boarding, and I even love those moving walkway things. I don't love the food, but then again I'm not completely crazy. I love to see the planes come and go and I LOVE to people watch. People from all over the world coming and going, some rushing, some taking their time, some shopping, some eating, some grooming, some doing business and some getting settled for a long vacation. There are so many types of people feeling so many different things. This is what I love most. You can see people full of frustration and haste rushing to get from one gate to the next while checking their email, balancing their checkbook, and adjusting their stockings all at once. Others may be laughing and hugging, so happy to be reuniting with loved ones, even for just a few days. They are so excited about whats to come in this visit whether it be a holiday or a bachelor party. Other people you see may be sad after just parting, having to say goodbye again to a friend, to a child, to a parent, a piece of themselves that they don't want to leave behind. Sometimes I wonder if it's the energy of so many things happening simultaneously that draws me to the airport. Reluctant endings, hopeful beginnings, so much all at once. When I travel by car, I miss this anticipation. When you drive, you and all your emotion are contained in your vehicle. Like cells within the human body, everyone zooms by minding their own business, going here or there. You can't see or feel what the other drivers are experiencing (except on those rare occasions when certain drivers reveal their feelings through finger gestures, but we won't go into all that now :) ). The airport is where it all comes together, the heart of traveling. People still coming and going, but you see them as a person not just another hunk of metal speeding by. I guess it is a little odd that I am so fascinated by such a filthy, hectic, and stressful place. Perhaps the real attraction is because on a sub-conscious level, I'm just really excited to indulge in my superstitious and delightful combination of ginger ale and Twizzlers on the plane. What ever the reason, I can't wait for my next flight and be a part of the airport vivacity (as long as I don't forget my quart-sized bag!).

Reality TV

During my hiatus from society (i.e. a job or regular play dates with fellow military spouses), I admit to falling victim to daytime television at times. I never get trapped in it or lose touch with the reality that I am sitting alone watching reruns of outrageous scenarios of fabricated drama. I guess I turn it on for background noise while I'm cooking or doing laundry. I've never been much for soaps or talk shows; I prefer the brainless and trivial humor of sitcoms. As ridiculous as it sounds, I've considered at times what it would be like to actually have friends like these, although I know people like that couldn't really exist. TV land is the only world in which you can wiggle your nose and turn your husband's boss into a monkey or afford a high rise apartment with a view as a waitress in a cafe. Life would be easier, I think, if things got too rough to handle, you could just add "to be continued..." and walk offset for a week. Characters in these shows never have to worry about going to work when something more interesting is going on and they can travel anywhere at anytime so there is never an episode of homesickness or feelings of loneliness. There is always a friend walking in the door and a perfect punchline to every joke. There just isn't enough time in a 30-minute episode to see Grace worry about how she will pay rent for her downtown office when she hasn't had one design job in the past two seasons or see Jerry deal with relationship issues bigger than his date having "man hands." I think this is one reason I can never get wrapped up in t.v. and commit to watching a show on a weekly basis. I have a hard time relating and not thinking too deeply about the show. Sure, I've had times when I have had "Scrubs fantasies" and difficulty relating to my in laws like you might see on some shows, but unfortunately I can't blink an eye and make things go away (or reappear). I wish my worst problem was that my best friend went to Bloomingdale's with another woman. I wish all I had to do was talk it over a cup of coffee and turn the "applaud now" sign on. I wish I never had a fat day and I could walk out wearing the perfect outfit no matter what the occasion. I'd never have to worry about going to an interview with lipstick on my teeth and the camera would just switch angles if I was having a bad hair day. I wish I had theme music playing to encourage me on my jog or a whole audience say "aww" every time Wayne kissed me on the cheek or, in the very least, go some place where everybody knew my name! I might handle risky situations better if all I had to do was flip to next the page on the script and see that all is well in the world and that this episode was going to end with a good laugh. So, what will the next season bring? Will Wayne and I finally have our dreams come true? Will I be reuniting with a close friend? Or will my show be canceled? I guess we'll just have to stay tuned...

BAMBOOzled

Here is a picture of my only plant. It wasn't even my plant actually, it was a gift. I'm not sure what I did to deserve it; I feel like it just fell in my lap one day and ever since that day I've tried to give it everything it needs to grow. I've never been good with plants, somehow no matter what I do to keep it growing, they manage to give up on me. I've had people tell me about this plant. They've said it looks like it's dying, it isn't big enough, or that their bamboo plant is doing so much better, but I've had faith in this one. Maybe it's just my perception. Maybe after having so many seemingly healthy plants die on me, I've just wanted this one to make it. The past few weeks, while all of the other decor in the house has been packed and my usual obligations are ceasing, this little guy has called my attention... despite my watering,pruning, and care, it hasn't responded. The leaves haven't perked up, the branches aren't standing taller. Would he be better if I just left him alone? Is he tired of trying to survive in a place that he doesn't belong? I always feel that things are brought in to my life for a reason, but what if his purpose is complete? What if he was just meant to be a pretty gift for a while and now it's his time to be let go? I hate the thought of giving up on him. I hate the thought that I failed again and that I'm left with the unique vase that it once thrived in (before I got a hold of it of course). Nothing else could fill that vase, nothing else would fit the same and quite honestly, I don't want to try to make anything else grow in it's place. I don't have a green thumb. This is something I've admitted, but I was given this chance. Maybe the reason it is still on my counter is not because of it's potential to thrive, but my selfish desire to hang on to it. I am facing a dilemma. Soon everything in the house will be packed and loaded into the moving truck. Soon I will be too. What will I do with this guy? I want to bring him so badly. I want him to be the showcase of our new home, perhaps even displayed on the coffee table, but is that what's best? I could read more about how traumatic changes of climate are for houseplants, but I also know that this one is different. This one might absorb a better atmosphere and grow bigger than I could imagine. Is this the product of faith or is this just a green dream? Should I let it go now? Leave it in the only place it knew and move on with my life. Is this the end with my little friend?

A little here, A little there

As I get down to the countdown before we leave, I'm finding myself writing several mental diary entries a day. I don't really have the time or focus to jot (or type) them all, but my mind seems to be in this constant state of contemplation where nothing is as simple as it seems and everything is symbolic for something. I think it's the finality of where I'm at right now so I'm trying not to read too much into things; I just feel so dramatic. I'm seeking a constant where there can't be, and desperately searching for a stable place to turn to whether it be in a friend who wants that closeness, or simply an effective workout routine I can look forward to... everything seems to be changing. I suppose that is just where things are suppose to be right now. I'm back in the waiting room of life again. Waiting to be needed, waiting to be trusted, waiting to settle my roots and grow. For once, I would like to be an active participant in the changes in life, for my voice to stand out enough to create a positive change, but that seems to be a role I'm not destined for. How can I expect to be silent and watch everything spin out of control? As long as I can remember, God has taught me that he knows what is best for my life, while frustrating at times, He really does a better job of running it than I do so I'm not struggling with that aspect as much. I do pray that he uses me to touch others in my life so that I can be a tool to create a positive change in theirs. So often, I feel like the opportunity is open, but I fail to let Him work through me. It is these times more than any other, I feel like I have no true place. I'm on unsteady ground and sent back to the waiting room to flip through boring magazines until my true purpose finally calls.

My old friend Teddy

I have been called neurotic and I think it's probably true. It's a personality trait that has been with me since early childhood. I do have a need for balance, a need for closure, a need for completion. I think there are worse things, but this has certainly been a curse at times. Life is about learning, aging, closing chapters and starting new ones. I don't mind most things about life, but something that I never really learned was letting go. Letting chapters end and beginning new ones. I often think about my childhood. Well, thinking is putting it lightly. I have no problems with letting my mind drift back to moments when I was younger and just reliving them for a bit. This is something that I do to cope at times and it is a comfort to me. I have no desire to relive my childhood, adolescence was far too painful for that, but I love to sort of travel back in time to a place where things didn't have to make sense. Sometimes I think about my toys that I loved and the games I played. I remember at one point I had all of my stuffed animals on my twin sized bed. There was probably close to thirty or forty that I happily squeezed in the middle of. My mom would always tell me to move them, but how could I chose which ones to keep? They were all so dear to me. Each one from a different time, whether it was given to me as a gift or one that was made. They each told a story. I had a ritual to kiss each one making sure no one was left out, I didn't want any jealousy! Ok, so this is sounding more like confessions of early OCD tendencies, and maybe it is. The point is, there was something so comforting for me to have this completion and to know that no matter what, they were there. Of course as the years went on, some of my fluffy friends moved to the floor, some to a box, and some to those children less fortunate than I. I learned I had to let go, but some of them stayed. Some of them have even traveled across the country with me. My oldest friend still has a place on my bed every night (Wayne is so understanding!). Growing up, growing apart, learning to let go is not something I'm good at, but something I've learned to embrace. At the same time, I've also learned that somethings don't have to be let go. Somethings are meant to stay and be apart of you even if they aren't as big of a part. I don't carry my teddy every where I go, and I don't cuddle with him every night, but he's there. Friendships in life aren't as easy as toys. I'm not sure that they will be there the next day like all of my stuffed animals were. I don't know how to let go and when or if I should sometimes. I just hope that the ones that are there and hold a special part of me will be there.

Anchors Away

I wanted to be like an ocean upon the shore. To crash into this life and change... change shape, change views, change it all. I wanted to make my presence known, not by sound or sight, but by feeling. I wanted to make an impact like a wave hitting the sand, never to look back and never to be the same... I'm heading to the ocean now. I've heard it call for three years and God knows that there is a warm place for me in the sand and sun. I place for me to dig my toes into and watch in pure amazement at the beauty he created. I need that like the tide needs the moon. I've searched here, landlocked. Trying to find my place, my warm spot, my time to crash upon the shore. I'm not sure why it took three years to realize that this is not the place. I'm not even sure why it took until tonight for me to realize that my purpose here was to just be. To float along the tepid waters and solidify into the woman I've tried my whole life to become. My place isn't here, although I have found places that I needed to be and that needed me for the time. God intended for me to learn what to absorb, such as the friendships that never would have blessed my life had I not come, but also to learn how to cast out what was not intended for me. That lesson was a hard one, but I've learn to release what I should not keep and sometimes it stings, but I find there is more of me to give to ones that I am meant to when I do. I'll leave this place in a few months a changed woman. I might be a passing thought in a few minds here. I might come up in a conversation or two, not exactly the waves I wanted to make. I do hope that I leave behind an imprint, maybe instead of the waves I can leave traces on the shore like seashells to be found on a lazy day. Someone will think of a conversation that we shared or a nice gesture and take with them that seashell. I, on the other hand will take with me a bucket full of memories. When this tide retreats, I will be changed.