You can't make a difference on your butt

I remember several years ago, when internet shopping was just getting big, there was a man who attempted to live a year without leaving his house. He ordered everything he needed off the internet, although I'm sure he was very bored.

The internet has come a long way in a short amount of time, relatively speaking. We can now sit on our couch and make money, announce pregnancies, engagements and deaths. We can congratulate people and wish everyone Merry Christmas/Happy whatever holiday without even leaving your house to buy stamps and mail holiday cards. In many ways, the internet has made us very lazy.

Here's a news flash: Posting your bra color isn't going to cure breast cancer. Telling everyone covertly where you put your purse isn't going to stop domestic violence. And posting videos of starving children isn't going to feed them, or stop child trafficking.

I rarely read articles posted on Facebook. I rarely share articles unless they are hysterically funny or for a cause I support and know about (and even then, they are few and far between). The fact of the matter is, posting random videos and articles about a variety of social issues isn't going to solve them. Awareness is one thing, but without action, it's meaningless.

This past week there was a huge to-do about KONY 2012, both for and against. For a couple days it was all over Facebook (the same videos, over and over again) and Twitter. Then, suddenly, it all stopped. People moved on, and started posting other videos, about other issues. Or about funny cats.

But you know what? There are still 30,000 homeless, starving, deprived and tortured children out there. Posting that video to Facebook did absolutely nothing to help that but bring a fleeting feeling of sadness and, yes, probably the desire to help. But it's fleeting.

I'm not telling you to donate to every cause you come across on Facebook. I'm not asking you to stop posting these things. If you feel the need to do that, then go for it. What I am asking is that you do more than just post a sad video while sitting on your couch.

Because "raising awareness" without actually taking action is just as meaningless as posting your bra color in your status.

I love my job...right?

I love my job...usually.

Last week I was frustrated.

I was stressed because in the last pay period I worked 4 out of 10 days.

My lead teacher can be pompous and often doesn't let me take the lead even when I request it. Sometimes she talks down to me. Often she doesn't listen to my ideas, or takes them over as her own.

Hours are being cut, I'm working part time, and while we're cutting costs as often as we can, going from part time to full time has been a difficult transition.

The kids are driving me crazy, pushing their limits, testing us, and generally being rambunctious.

I've been wondering if I should be looking for another job, feeling like I'm not contributing enough to our family.

And then...something happened.

source

We've been working on Chinese dragons all throughout January for Chinese New Year. It was a big thing for me, because I have been the one spear-heading the whole craft. Although Chinese New Year was a couple weeks ago, we decided to have a "parade" with our dragons, especially because we had two little girls who celebrate in our class.

My lead teacher was leading the parade, and I was following up behind. She played a song on a little recorder, and (most of) the kids hummed or sang along. We paraded through the other classrooms, through the office, and back to our classroom. For a class of almost 30 kids, they were amazingly well behaved, and I was really proud of them.

To put the next part of the story into context, I need to tell you about Michael*. Michael is younger than the other kids, and he's a complete handful. He doesn't listen, he's always in his own world, and though he's adorable, he couldn't sit still if his life depended on it.
So there I am, at the end of the line with Michael, who is being surprisingly well behaved. I was so proud of him because lines are definitely not his strong point. Anyway, he leaned over and gave me a side hug and said, in his little voice, "thank you for doing the dragons".

Suddenly all those frustrations melted away, and I saw my job for what it really is. Introducing those kids to another culture and seeing them actually get it, was wonderful. If no one else appreciates what I do, they do, and that made it all worthwhile.

All the cut hours, the frustrations, the glitter...it suddenly disappeared, because Michael appreciated what I was doing, and he even walked in line properly.

I guess sometimes I need a little reminder of who I actually work for.

*Name has been changed to protect the adorable.

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Dear anoymous...

To the person who found my blog by searching "cancer fucking sucks", I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you were forced to search that phrase, and I hope you found something you were looking for on my blog. Or at least something useful. Or at least the knowledge that someone else understands.

Because you know what? Cancer does fucking suck.

Someone close to someone close to me (if that isn't awkward I don't know what is, but I don't want to be more specific) was diagnosed with two types of cancer, recently, and I'm not sure what the outcome will be. I don't think it will end happily.

It just makes me want to double my efforts in fighting. In any way I can.

Memories

What I've Done, by Linkin Park makes me cry.

Yeah, yeah, I know. It's not a sad song, but it holds a lot of memories for me.
I read somewhere that the sense of smell is the strongest memory you have. That may be true, but for me, songs hold memories. Which is funny, because I don't really like music. Anyway, there are the songs that immediately remind me of high school, or the summer after Geoff and I started dating.
And then there are the songs that remind me of 2007.

In the year 2007 I was happy, truly happy, for about 4 months. One third of that year I was happy. In August I finally went to the doctor and started taking antidepressants. The next few months were wonderful, because I was finally happy. Not depressed. The veil had lifted. Until December, when Geoff's dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and, well...things just didn't go well after that.

So in the summer of 2007, Transformers came out, and my big, geek of a boyfriend took me to see it. Ever since then, the song What I've Done reminds me of that summer, which reminds me of how unhappy I was. So, I try not to think about it.

Looking back, there is a couple years of my life that I try not to think about, namely the summer of 2007 and most of 2008. Thankfully, 2009 was pretty good, and 2010, our first year of marriage was also good year.
I guess I never realized how much my depression still affects me, even after several years, after it's under control and, generally speaking, I'm happy. Last week I heard What I've Done on the radio, (on a day that, for whatever reason, was already not so great) and I was plummeted into memories that I don't want to remember.
At Thanksgiving we went to visit family, at Geoff's old school stomping grounds. I had lived there for a few months after he dad got sick and, ultimately, passed. Driving down those roads, as Geoff reminisced, all I could do was remember. Things I didn't want to remember.

I guess, sometimes, the past doesn't always escape us, no matter how well we think we have it under control.

There's no point to this post, really. No subject I want to touch on, no questions I want to ask at the end. No neat wrap-up. There are just words that I needed to write, because sometimes, I'm still sad.

Write Boldly

Recently my dad told me to "write boldly". It really made me think, and questions why I write a blog.

There are many people with many more followers. People who get many comments on each post they write. Then there's me, just muddling along. I get excited when I get one comment on a post that I write! But you know what? I don't write to get followers or comments, not that I mind either of those things. I write for myself.

It took me years to realize something about myself. I'm a writer at heart. It always amuses me, because my mom is a medical biller, and my dad is an engineer. My sister and I are both writers. In a previous life I was a reporter, and though I don't write now, it's in by blood, and I have to write.
It really isn't anything I ever thought about. Growing up I never thought to myself, I want to be a writer when I grow up, and yet I am. Even now, when I say I'm a writer, I almost feel odd, because to me a writer is someone who publishes books, and is famous.
And yet, I am a writer.

Writing brought me my husband. I was working at a coffee shop, and I wasn't getting my writing fix, so I started an online, text-based game. The result? A wonderful friend who was in our wedding, and my wonderful husband. Shortly after we started dating, I got the reporter job, and my writing desire was fulfilled, again.

When I went back to school I wasn't writing, though I was focused on my school work, so I suppose I was distracted. After I graduated, I was home, alone, and bored. I turned to writing, and started a blog.

Writing is in my blood. I have to do it. I've been told that I'm a good writer, but I don't see it. I just write, the words flow, and I feel better. It's a part of me, and it always has been. While I love knowing that people read what I write (any writer does, I suppose) the most important thing for me is simply to write. To let the words flow. No matter what I'm doing it my life, in either my vocation or my avocation, I need to write.

I'm a writer.

The one when I use some strong words

If you're not a fan of strong words, please skip this post. I don't usually like to say things like this on my blog, but in this instance I'm feeling particularly sad and upset, and I have a few things I want to say publicly about it. So bear with me. I'll give you a chance to leave.

You might want to check this out, instead.

Good to go? Alright!

On Monday my best friend in the world, who I've known since 2nd grade lost her dad to a (brave) battle of ALS (also known as Lou Gehrigs's disease).
For those of you who don't know, ALS fucking sucks. It eats away at your muscles until you have nothing left, and need help with everything. ALS is kind, though. It leaves your brain, so you know exactly what's going on, and yet can't do anything about it. Eventually it moves to your lungs, and you can't breath, and then, finally, it takes your life. It can be fast or long and drawn out. My friend had 3 1/2 years with her dad. In my opinion, it's one of the worst diseases you can get. (I realize those of you with experience with a variety of other diseases will disagree, but this is my blog and I can say what I want. Plus, I've had way too much experience with this disease to have any sort of pity for it)

Source

The other day I learned that a blogger I follow on twitter found out that her father-in-law has pancreatic cancer. Pancreatic cancer also fucking sucks. It's what took Steve Jobs' life, and, horrible as it was, I was happy to educate one more person on this horrible form of cancer. Unfortunately, the reason I know about it is personal experience. This blogger was given 1-2 years. My father-in-law had it as well. We had 3 months.
Pancreatic cancer is difficult to diagnose until it's too late, because there are no nerves in the pancreas. There are no symptoms until it's almost too late. Some are luckier than others. A co-worker's husband discovered it when he couldn't eat; he was already full. The cancer had spread to his stomach and had it's horrible grip around it.

So what's the point of this post, except to bitch about two diseases I'd never wish on my worst enemy? It's to tell you how fragile life is. We don't like to think about our deaths, or the deaths of loved ones. I'm not telling you to dwell on them, but I am telling you to love on your loved ones. Love them with everything you have, every day, whether they're across the country or down the street, because one day your world may be shaken by a fucking word like cancer. Or ALS. Or tumor. Anything. Life can change in an instant. Never forget that.

First world problems

The other day a friend on Facebook posted that she was looking for hotels for an upcoming vacation that were under $200 a night, preferably with a pool.
First world problem.

At first I judged, until the other day I was seriously coveting a Freecycle lamp. It would have matched our bedroom perfectly and would replace the desk lamp that currently serves as Geoff's bed side lamp (I'm really not a fan. It doesn't go with my decor). However, I didn't get it, and I was seriously disappointed. It's not often something truly perfect comes up on Freecycle.
First world problem.

When the iPhone came to Verizon, I desperately wanted one, but our contract wasn't due to be renewed until October. I did not want to wait until October for my iPhone. So I dragged Geoff into Verizon, and we discovered that by playing the system getting new, local numbers which we needed to do anyway, we could get the phones for $200 instead of the usual $400. The catch was, we couldn't get them right when they came out, so I had to wait until Geoff received an annual bonus at work, to get our phones.
First world problem.

Have you ever thought about how blessed we are to live in America? In a first world country? We may have our issues here, but the majority of Americans are able to go to bed at night in a secure house or apartment, feeding their family 3 meals a day, and paying their bills on time. Sure, there are still many in America who are have lost their homes, or who are struggling to pay the bills. In April, a tornado swept through Alabama, leaving many homeless. They are still struggling to recover, and will be for a long time.

We are taking a vacation to Hawaii for a week in February. By the time we go, we will have been saving for this trip for a year, but we will still be spending a lot on this trip. Enough that a small family could pay several month's rent. Or feed their family. Or pay a couple month's electric bills.

The other day I was lamenting the fact that we don't have the money to buy patio furniture right now. {It's something we're saving to buy.} How many people in this world don't even have an furniture at all?
When we went camping a few weeks ago, Geoff and I decided that our tent was more suited for one person than two. Knowing that growing up, my family had a nice sized 2 person tent that my sister and I used to sleep in, so I asked for it. Turns out my dad donated it a while back to an organization collecting things for Haiti. Now a family is living in that tiny (comparatively) tent.

I think I need the reminder sometimes, especially when I'm bemoaning the fact that I overslept and can't get coffee in the morning, that there are people out there, both in our country and in other countries, who don't have as much as I do. People who struggle every month to pay their basic bills, when we are able to pay the bills every month.

We may not have a lot, but we have a lot more than many people, and it's important to remember that, especially when you're feeling ungrateful.

Dad

When I was in middle school my dad was the most embarrassing person I knew. I was convinced he was out to make my life miserable.
His crimes?

He wore mismatched socks and showed people.
One time he arrived at youth group to pick me up wearing a mask and calling himself the Dread Pirate Roberts
He wore a "funny nose and glasses" (the glasses with the fuzzy eyebrows and mustache) to youth group (where my friends called him Cool Mr. Steve! He was anything but cool to me)
He drove through the center of town with the windows down and a friend in the car with Born to be Wild blasting.

And many more.

When I was 24 I loaded up my VW Beetle (affectionately named Maximum Speed, Max for short) and drove from Massachusetts to Washington. With my dad. With my dad, and his eclectic taste in music, and his excitement to drive cross-country with his daughter. (By the way, not to be outdone, my younger sister is driving from Massachusetts to California this summer...with guess who?)

My dad is awesome. Does everyone say this? That cross country drive was not one of the most relaxing things I've ever done. I got angry, frustrated when we got stuck, cabin fever because that is a very small vehicle and it's a very long trip. But at the end of the day? Aside from the two days we spent in Wyoming, I wouldn't trade that trip for anything. I'm not sure I ever expressed how grateful I am that I spent that time with my dad.

And those embarrassing acts? Well, lets just say that it took me years to realize that he did it because he loved me. Someday I hope my kids have a dad who loves them enough to embarrass them in front of all their friends.

Thanks, dad. Thanks for embarrassing me, and driving with me, and the many many many other things we've done together. I love you.

Happy Father's Day, dad.

Homesick

This is my home.

Well, actually this is Harvard Square. But it's part of Boston, and Boston is my home. Where the Red Sox play, where Red Sox Nation began. Home of Fenway Park, and Sullivan Square, where we park the car to go into the city, and Haymarket, and the red line, and the green line and all the history. This is home.

Interestingly enough, so is Seattle, now. I love to make jokes about living in Seattle and loving coffee, or being green, like I've been here forever, not just a year and a half. I have a feeling, however, that Seattle will never quite be home like Boston is. Of course, everyone feels this way when they move away. Where you grow up is always part of your, whether you live there when you become an adult or not.

I moved 3,000 miles away from my home. If I was from Florida, I could have moved farther, but just barely. I love it here, but I miss home.
Usually my homesickness for Reading, where I grew up, is a dull ache that I often can ignore. Like the headache that isn't bad enough to take medicine for. But sometimes it's a migrane, and it hurts. Any mention of home, Boston, Red Sox, even the Bruins brings a sharp stab of sadness. That's my home, and someone else is there, enjoying it. Someone who isn't me.

For some reason this pain is hardest when people who are not from Boston go there. When they post pictures of familiar sites, my pain grows. It's a welcome sight, but a painful one. They are there, walking the streets I want to walk, seeing the things I want to see, the sites I long to see more than anything else, some days.
They are in my town, watching my team, enjoying, but maybe not appreciating things that I took for granted for 24 years.

Selfish? Mean? Maybe. Or maybe, just maybe, I just want to go home.

I'll find strength in pain...

The following is a guest post that my sister wrote on her own blog. It was so good, and exactly described my thoughts about the song she writes about that I asked her if I could use the post for my own blog.


Nearly every song on Mumford and Son's album (Sigh No More) expresses everything I have ever wanted to express about the world and my life. Especially The Cave.

I love The Cave so much I am deeply, seriously, undeniably considering getting the line "I'll find strength in pain" tattooed on my foot. I chose my foot (in case you're curious) because of the first stanza: "the sun it rises slowly as you walk / away from all the fears / and all the faults you left behind"

Whenever I listen to The Cave, I hear two voices. I hear myself--talking to my depression and telling it to back off, go away, because I am better, stronger, a fighter. ("So make your siren's call / and sing all you want / I will not hear what you have to say / cuz I need freedom now / and I need to know how / to live my life as it's meant to be...")

But most of all... I hear God. I hear him saying "I will hold on hope / I won't let you choke / on the noose around your neck." And suddenly nothing has ever mattered except for this moment, because God is telling me it's going to be okay.

------
The Cave (Mumford and Sons)

It's empty in the valley of your heart
The sun, it rises slowly as you walk
Away from all the fears
And all the faults you've left behind

The harvest left no food for you to eat
You cannibal, you meat-eater, you see
But I have seen the same
I know the shame in your defeat

But I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again

Cause I have other things to fill my time
You take what is yours and I'll take mine
Now let me at the truth
Which will refresh my broken mind

So tie me to a post and block my ears
I can see widows and orphans through my tears
I know my call despite my faults
And despite my growing fears

But I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again

So come out of your cave walking on your hands
And see the world hanging upside down
You can understand dependence
When you know the maker's hand

So make your siren's call
And sing all you want
I will not hear what you have to say

Cause I need freedom now
And I need to know how
To live my life as it's meant to be

And I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again

Love

Last night Geoff and I were watching How I Met Your Mother (which is an excellent show, and if you have neither heard of it nor watched it you should really rectify the situation immediately) and it was the one where Lily and Marshall get married. Now, I may have a soft spot for Lily because she's played by Alyson Hannigan, who I originally fell in love with in Buffy the Vampire Slayer (judge all you want, I'm not ashamed!) but I absolutely LOVE the relationship between Lily and Marshall.
Anyway, I digress, slightly. In this episode Lily and Marshall were at their reception, and it was just crazy. They couldn't eat anything because they kept getting distracted and blocked by people who wanted to hug and say congratulations. Anyway, when they finally left they went to a fast food restaurant where they ordered a couple hotdogs because they were so hungry. Lily had eaten nothing but a few strawberries and champagne, and as Marshall was ordering, the guy behind the counter commented that, "Your wife just threw up in the trash." Marshall turns toward Lily, smiles, and says, "My wife," with so much love in his voice.

When Geoff and I first got married, we did that a lot. We'd just look at each other for the first month or so, and say, "you're my wife!" or "We're married!" or we'd point at our wedding bands and just smile. Now that it's been just over a year, we don't do this anymore, but it doesn't mean we're any less in love, it's just sunk in by now that we're in it for the long haul!

My family isn't a touchy-feely family at all. Though we love each other, growing up I don't remember saying it a lot. This didn't mean that we don't love each other, of course, it was more that we just...didn't say it to each other. We also didn't hug a lot, but now that I'm a little older, I think this could be partly my fault, because I don't like to be touched too much!
Anyway, I digress again. When Geoff and I first said I love you to each other, we said it a lot, especially when we said goodbye. I got into the habit of saying, "I love you! Bye," when we ended our phone calls. After a bit, something interesting happened. I started saying this to my family, too. My sister had moved out to go to college, and I was back living with my parents while I worked full time. My sister and I had just begun to get closer to each other, and we talked on the phone often. I'm so grateful that I started saying I love you when I got off the phone, because I no longer feel funny saying it, whether it's to my sister or parents.

I think it's important to say I love you, and you shouldn't have to stumble over the words awkwardly, like I used to. Because, at the end of the day, you have no idea what's going to happen tomorrow, and I'd hate for something to happen to my parents or sister, or anyone else I love, only to leave me regretting that I didn't say I love you enough. So, love your friends and family today, because tomorrow may change your whole life. You don't know what tomorrow will bring, so say I love you today.

Thoughts for 2011

New Year's Eve really isn't my thing. It never really has been, to be honest. Growing up we almost always volunteered in the afternoon at First Night Boston, watched the parade and early fireworks, and headed back home. As I got older, we started to do more things in the evening. I attended parties, my parent's hosted, I even stayed in Boston until midnight one year. Recently, however, December 31st hasn't really done much to get me all excited like it does for most people. (I do have to note that last year, 2 days before my wedding, I was getting very excited...but not necessarily because of the date.)

I was thinking about New Year's Eve the other day, and how silly it really is. I mean, we don't wait until midnight to see it become Thursday, or count down the minutes until it is September. So what is so special about the new year? To me, it's no different than being 25 one day and 26 the next. Whether it's 2010 or 2011 doesn't matter; these days it's just another year.

I think the excitement of a new year resides in the excitement of new beginnings and a fresh start. Anything is possible on January 1st. We set new goals, make promises, are determined to change. More often than not, however, this doesn't last long. I guess that's partially why I don't put much stock in the new year.

This year, however, I'm excited. I'm ready for 2011. Last year was so so eventful that I'm actually looking forward to what I hope will be a quiet year. No sickness, no huge life changes, just life. Of course I can't predict that...but here's hoping.
I do have a few goals for this year, however. I want to work on paying off debt (credit card debt, I know student loans and our mortgage will be around for a while!) and not incur more. I want to build up our savings and start saving for a vacation, just us. Maybe around our second anniversary. I want to live frugally, spend less money on things we don't need and save it for things we do. I want to get a set of recliners for out family room (hey, I have to have some fun, right??) This year's goals are money-centered, but I feel like with both of us working we can actually meet these goals, or at least work towards them. Even better, my sudden non-consumerism feelings will definitely work in my favor of meeting these goals!
I do have a few money-related weaknesses that I also want to work on. I want to eat out less. As I type this, I am sitting in Panara, using their internet and finishing off lunch. I know this is going to be a work in progress, but I am hoping that it is something I will have the self-control to do. Of course, related to that, is the fact that I want to lose weight. Those two go hand in hand.
But most of all, I want to have a healthy, happy year with my husband and our two kitties. If I get nothing else I want to accomplish, I wish that 2011 brings that.

Happy New Year, all. May all your wishes come true.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving!! Today my husband, sister, mother-in-law and I are gathering together to eat what I hope will be a delicious Thanksgiving meal! Since it's my first one I can only hope things turned out alright! Since it's Thanksgiving, I thought I would take the time to post a list of the things I'm thankful for. This is by no means all-inclusive, it's simply what I thought of off the top of my head! I am sure there are many many more things to be thankful for!

1. My job. I'm SO thankful that I am finally employed. Having the extra paycheck will make a huge difference in paying off our debts.

2. My family. Both extended and immediate. They are all wonderful and I'm so lucky to have them.

3. Our health. Currently everyone in our family is healthy. I'm not talking colds, I'm talking big things like cancer. We are all healthy and happy and I'm incredibly thankful for that.

4. My kitties. They seriously make me laugh every day with their antics! And I love when they cuddle up and sleep with us!

5. Our house. We are lucky not only to have a roof over our heads, but to own that roof as well. It's been a blessed year for us.

6. My husband. As we approach our one year anniversary I'm so thankful that we met each other and got married!

7. My marriage. Everyone says the first year's the hardest. Well, it's been tough, but we've made it through.

8. Snow! Yes, even snow because it is so beautiful!

9. Friends who pimp out my Mary Kay business. I've had several new orders lately which has been awesome!

10. Our local thrift store. They have provided me with several Christmas gifts!

11. Freecycle, without which we wouldn't have 2 couches and a Christmas gift for my mom!

12. Craigslist, without which we wouldn't have our coffee table and numerous other things I've bought (and sold!) for less than their retail price.

13. Oatmeal. It is delicious and yummy and warming on a cool winter morning!

14. A garage, where my car is parked safe and sound and free of snow and ice!

How about you? What are you thankful for this year?

Windows, doors and sledgehammers

No, this post isn't about another household project (though I do have a couple of those on my to do list!) but rather a quote you may have heard: "When God closes a door, he opens a window."

I was thinking about this quote the other day. I believe that God has both closed and opened many doors for me, especially in the past couple of years. I've lead a very transient life recently, packing up my VW Beetle and moving far too many more times than I'd like. This last move was my sixth move in 2 years. For a girl who, aside from college, had moved three times in 24 years, this was definitely unusual.
When I was thinking about this quote, however, I was wondering if I actually was supposed to move six times in the past two years. Maybe God opened a window for me but I kept staring at that door, waiting for it to open again. When it didn't I took matters into my own hands, taking a sledgehammer to the door that He had shut on me and going through anyway.
I seriously hope that God has a sense of humor, or at least can accept that I can be an idiot at times. For example, moves one and two. While I will never regret moving across the country for a man I was dating, I wonder if this is really what God wanted me to do. I put myself into a lot of debt, put unnecessary miles on my car and all for what? Because I was bound and determined to go through that door, sledgehammer or not. Consequently, I ended up driving that VW Beetle from Massachusetts to Washington...twice in 2 years. In retrospect it doesn't seem like a good idea, though at the time it was about the only thing I could imagine doing.

All this came about because I'm still unemployed. Ten months ago, heck even 5 months ago I was still looking for library jobs. Today, I head down to Peets Coffee to turn in an application. In my paranoia/over-thinking mind, I'm scared. Scared that I made a mistake. That I went plowing through that closed door because I was bound and determined to get my degree in Library and Information Science. A degree that is now preventing me from getting any job, library or not, because who wants to hire someone with a masters degree for a receptionist job?
And yet...God provided for me to go to school in Alabama, through an amazing assistantship for all three of my semesters there. While I, on the one hand, don't understand why I can't get a job to use my degree, I know and understand that I was supposed to do that...right?
It's hard to understand God's ways when I am unemployed, laden with $30,000 in student loans, stuck at home and stressing about money. I know He has a plan...but why can't He be a little more obvious about it?
Life shouldn't be so complicated.