I'm a Dreamer, not a Fighter...Right?

I've heard that you only really remember dreams that you have if your sleep is disrupted during them. And I've occasionally remembered dreams here and there. But recently (and now that I think about it, ever since I've been taking medicine for my crazy brain disease) I've been having super intensely vivid dreams.

One in particular involved me babysitting several canines and murdering a pet fish by refilling the jar with boiling water, all while my apartment was burning down. Weird. I know.

But I have noticed a recurring theme in a number of dreams. They all take place in different types of bars and clubs (because we know I frequent those types of locations ALL THE TIME). And each one escalates into a knock-down, drag-out honest-to-goodness bar fight. And that has transferred into an odd desire to get myself into a REAL bar fight.

I guess I'll continue being a crazy cat lady, sans cats, to avoid any criminal charges coming my way...

Why [not] Me?

I just finished watching National Treasure for the first time. It was on television, so I imagine it was not in its complete form. Regardless, I just loved it. Mostly because there's something so unexplainably thrilling about a treasure map, a dark and dilapidated cave or tunnel system, the bad guys on your heels, and the promise of a huge reward.

I can think of so many movies that follow this general plot....Indiana Jones, The Goonies, Pirates of the Caribbean, just to name a few. And I only have one question. How come I never get to go on a treasure hunt, following clues, and solving puzzles?

Taking Flight

Last week I found myself dropping off and picking up people at Reagan National Airport two days in a row. I will leave out the part where I get lost both times, as per usual, and end up going the extra long way. I had never been to Reagan before last Tuesday. And the really cool thing about Reagan is that when you drive in on 95, the planes have to fly directly above you in order to land and take off. They come SO CLOSE. It kinda feels like a movie or something.

Every time I fly, I feel like a little kid on Christmas as soon as the plane lifts off the ground. There is something so unreal about it. If you told people 100 years ago that by the end of the century, air would be the primary form of mass, long-distance travel, they would think you were outside your mind. So I never cease to be amazed at the complete surreality (is that a word?) of taking flight.

And then I think about my dad. He's a pilot. He gets to fly every day. And while I am aware that airplanes are different from his Army helicopters, I always wonder if pilots feel the same every time they take off. Or if they realize just how cool their jobs are. Not everyone gets to defy the laws of gravity for a living.

Every time I see a plane in the sky, I start to wonder who is on it, where they're going, and why they're going there. And if I'm on the plane, I wonder the same things, but more. I like to make up life stories about my cabin-mates and decide whether they're leaving or coming home, what they do for a living, and sometimes I develop these epic stories about how there are people on the plane who are long lost best friends and bump into each other in line for the lavatory.

Cause the world is funny that way. It brings people together and pulls them apart a million and a half times a day. You pass another car on the highway. For all you know, the driver of that car could end up being the president of the USA in a couple decades. You hold a door open for someone at the grocery store, who's to say that he or she isn't going to be your boss at the job you start next year? The person you sit next to on the plane, you may never see again. But then you never know.

So we go about our daily lives, generally keeping to ourselves, and waiting for the world to send us crashing into our next exciting discovery. And in the meantime, I'll keep watching the planes.

Pass it on.

Pass the parcel. That's sometimes all you can do. Take it. Feel it. And pass it on.

That was the last line of the movie, The History Boys. It's a movie I've had from Netflix since approximately April. It's basically the most expensive movie rental in the history of the world. But it's okay. It was a weird movie. But I found that very last line to be SO TRUE.

I like to think that every experience we have in life changes us in some way, even if very minimally. Most of the time, those little instances have no effect upon our daily lives. But there are other times when a split second can completely change the way you view the world. And then that view becomes part of your life. You start to pass it on to other people.

I've found that this has been happening to me a lot lately. Except I am taking negative attitudes of others and turning them into my own. I'm not a negative nancy by nature. I always try to look at the upside of every situation before starting in on the downside. But lately I've caught myself immediately thinking the worst of every situation.

So I'd like to take this opportunity to pass THAT parcel. But not to anyone else. Just pass it away. Nobody needs negative energy. And I'd like to go back to being my old eternal optimist.

Let the Music Lead the Way

It's Sunday afternoon. Halloween. I'm in my office, catching up on overdue variance reports and planning for the whirlwind next two weeks brought on by a flash of brilliance had by my boss in a meeting last week. Speaking of last week, it was a hot mess. And that's putting it mildly. But we all survived, had an awesomely fun Halloween dance last night for all the individuals we serve in our programs, and have a lot to get excited for and look forward to in November and December. Wow. Tomorrow is November. Hard to believe I've been working here almost an entire year.

Another very exciting thing in my life is that when I came in today, my computer all of a sudden had sound capabilities. I like to think it's just karma coming my way after baking brownies for the IT guys on a semi-regular basis. Regardless. I can listen to PANDORA while working now, which I am certain will help me focus a bit. An hour or so into my being here, an old familiar song came on. This song holds a very special place in my heart, because it helped me make a major life decision. Let me explain...

I started work on my master's degree at Indiana State in the fall of 2007. It only took my first professor in my first course to stand up and say that a career in recreation was pointless because there was no money in it to get me to start seriously rethinking my decision from the start. I figured I could at least give it the old college try (pun intended) and stick it out the semester. A few weeks in I met with an undergraduate professor who sang a very different tune and wanted to get me involved with his various courses, research, and even got me a job. When he asked if I intended to stay there, I told him I still wasn't sure, but was leaning towards leaving in December.

He encouraged me to apply for the Student Camp Leadership Academy that November. I attended and went back to Indiana set on leaving school and figuring out my life as I went along. In the meantime, my sister had introduced me to the music of a singing fellow named Jon McLaughlin. I downloaded his entire first album after only listening to one song. And in the midst of all my life's confusion at the time, I grabbed my iPod and went for a walk around campus. I'm not even kidding when I say that the first song that came on was one by this McLaughlin guy and it was called Indiana. I didn't think much of it at first, until it got to the very end. But I'll let you read the lyrics and see for yourself:

I'm glad i never lived next to the water
So I could never get used to the beach
And I'm glad I never grew up on a mountain
To figure out how high the world could reach
I love the miles between me and the city
Where I quietly imagine every street
And I'm glad I'm only picturing the moment
I'm glad she never fell in love with me

For some the world's a treasure to discover
And your scenery should never stay the same
And they're trading in their dreams for Explanations
All in an attempt to entertain

But I love the miles between me and the city
Where I quietly imagine every street
And I'm glad I'm only picturing the moment
I'm glad she never fell in love with me

The trick of love is to never let it find you
It's easy to get over missing out
I know the how's and whens, but now and then,
She's all I think about

I wonder how it feels to be famous
But wonder is as far as I will go
Because I'd probably lose myself in all the Pictures
And end up being someone I don't know.

So it's probably best I stay in Indiana
Just dreaming of the world as it should be
Where every day is a battle to convince myself
I'm glad she never fell in love with me

Needless to say, I stayed. I don't regret it for a second. I made some absolutely amazing friends, learned a lot about myself, about life, and about making it work. I met Micah the following semester, and he kinda saved my life this summer when I needed to hire a last minute nature program leader...now he's working full time here and is a major player in this whirlwind two weeks coming our way. David and Inga and I quickly became practically inseparable. I got to travel, present at conferences and teach an occasional class. Once I left, I missed Indiana more than I ever expected to or thought I could. Every time I drive past someone with an Indiana license plate now, I cross my fingers and hope they see the Indiana State sticker on my car...and know that they're not alone in the big city.

I'm obviously still a big believer in signs. If I wasn't before, how could I not be after that song just HAPPENED to pop up first in a random playlist when I was taking a walk to figure out my life? Yeah, it was a pretty short walk.

So when I heard that song come on Pandora just now, I was comforted by the reassurance in his voice. I started thinking about how the gods of music just seem to give you what you need when you need it. Which brings me to my next point. My lease on my current apartment is up at the end of December. The rent is going up in 2011, as is the water/gas/trash/sewage bill, AND they are adding a $3 per month fee to process my rent payment. REALLY? I have to pay to pay my rent?!? So I clearly need to move, but am having trouble finding a place. So I got to thinking that if I have to move, should I just move across town or should I make it worth it and really move somewhere else and do something different? I mean, I hadn't really planned to stay here very long anyway.

When I say work was a hot mess last week, I mean it. But I'm just going to leave it at that. What it means for me, though, is that my job is changing a bit. And I think the changes are going to keep it interesting enough (not that it was ever a boring job by ANY means) that I'll be happy here for a few more years. Especially since I can now make a case to live in a more rural part of the state and still be able to be close to work. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't still have a little bit of an itch for a change in scenery. Except immediately after Indiana came on Pandora, was this song by The Afters:

One Moment Away

Wake up and smile
Put on a tie
Walk to the car
And wave goodbye
Radio onY
ou're singing along
It's all gonna change but how could you know

You're one moment away
One chance left to take
And you're gone
Are they gonna remember you for running away
Or saving the day from the darkness
And letting your love shine through
What will you do
You're one moment away

Eyes are on you
The pressure is on
Where will you stand when the lines have been drawn
The clocks have all stopped, the story's been told
This is your life, so how will it show

No you can't pretend that forever
Will never come knocking at your door

Run through the flames
Never look back
What did you think that you came here for?

I truly don't know what this song is about. It kind of has some suicidal undertones. And it also kinda feels like a woman with a large presence is telling me to quit crying about life, make a decision, and live with it. The last line really got to me though. What DID I come here for? I came here to work, to learn, to make friends, and, forgive the cliche, to try and make a difference. I know I've achieved the first three, and the fourth really isn't for me to decide anyway. So I'm gonna hang around here, keep the music playing, and see where we go next...

Up to my Old Tricks

One of my earliest posts tells the tale of how I had a full on conversation with a park ranger in the middle of the night and have no recollection of the events. So it's no secret that I do funny things in my sleep.

Last night, Kashmir was driving me and Micah back from dinner. We were in my car, but Kashmir likes to drive because otherwise she gets really bad carsick. And it's also a commonly known fact that I generally prefer to be chaufferred around than to drive myself. I am also partial to the backseat.

On the drive home I apparently fell into a deep enough sleep that I started having some sort of dream. Kashmir tells me that out of the blue, I started giggling, which progressed into snorting, and then petered out into nothing. Kashmir also tells me that she had to slow down because both she and Micah were in tears laughing at my sleep laughter.

And then when we got back, the conversation went something like this:

Kashmir: Bekah!

Me: WHAT?!

Kashmir: Wake up!

Me: THE STRAWBERRIES GO IN THE MIDDLE!

Heaven only knows.....

An Ode to BIO

I got news today that my favorite teacher from the 20 years I spent in K-graduate school passed away. He taught me three years of high school biology, and oh, so much more than that. His death saddens me. He was one of those people you internally assumed would just live forever. As if the world would not continue spinning if he were no longer on it. However, I do find it kind of fitting in a few different ways.

First, he was so dedicated to his science that he planned on giving every moment of his life and his afterlife to the never-ending crusade to stamp out ignorance. I don't know all the details of his death, but I do know that he had brain cancer. And instead of using conventional treatments, he was volunteering to be a guinea pig for different experimental ones. I assume he was of the mindset that the experiments might work and they might not, but we will never move forward unless we test them out. What courage it takes to be willing to sacrifice for the betterment of humanity.

Secondly, in my most recent post I mentioned that I wanted to be a writer some day. And one idea I always toyed with came to me one day in AP Biology, while we were learning about ears. It would be a memoir chronicling all the life lessons that are unknowingly learned in high school. I specifically remember this day...even down to what I was wearing. A long gray skirt and white polo (oh, how I loved that dress code!). The lesson was about the little hairs inside our ears that are lined up shortest to tallest, each picking up a different frequency. In order to help us visualize the subject matter, he had us climb up on a row of desks in the back of the room and line up shortest to tallest. The life lesson here wasn't necessarily about ears, but about helping people remember things...by making them memorable. Lining up in order of height on the floor along the side of the room would have been like any other day. And sitting here today, I wouldn't remember that the hairs inside our ears are organized in such a way.

And third, over his long teaching career, he influenced countless students. So many, I'm sure, that there is no way to measure his true impact. Some students loved him, others loathed him, but I think it's safe to say that we all respected him. And we all most likely have at least one great story to tell. But I'd like to share a few of my favorites...

Before high school began, I had heard horror stories about this man. I had heard that his classes were so hard people begged to be transferred out. I was told he made students come to school at 5AM to study and prepare for his classes. So needless to say I was less than impressed when I got to school for the first day of freshman year and found myself in his homeroom class. He handed out our schedules and I was relieved to find that I had been assigned to another teacher for Biology I. There was a God. And he loved me. Then it was time to find our lockers and practice our combinations. It took a few tries, but I finally figured out the whole combination lock thing. And inside was a Tootsie Pop. We slowly realized that everyone in our homeroom had the same treat, but no other homerooms did. So maybe this guy wasn't so bad after all.

Sixth period rolled around on that first day and I walked into an over-crowded biology class. The teacher came in and said that this period had obviously been double-booked and that half of us were being moved next door. I did the math and realized that my homeroom was on one side and the chemistry lab was on the other. The teacher literally went down the attendance list and called every other name and sent us next door to the lion's den.

I. Was. Terrified.

Homeroom I could handle. But I didn't want to spend the next nine months going in to school at 5AM. I quickly learned, though, that the whole 5AM thing was just an open invitation. He was there because he covered morning detentions. And he allowed any of his students to come in and get extra help whenever they felt they needed it. But you had to know the trick. And that was that you had to climb the embankment outside his classroom window and knock on the glass so he could meet you at the end of the hall and let you in the door. I did this on several occasions over the three years I spent in his classroom and every time I felt kind of like a super stealthy spy.

One of my favorite memories is of him standing in the hallway during class-change times with a lifeguard whistle, telling the misbehaving students to kindly remove themselves from the gene pool. And the funny way he would always clarify that he called his wife Kay, because that was, in fact, her name. I loved playing his neck-tie game. This man had a tie collection to rival my collection of colored flats from Aldo. If you caught him on a day that he repeated a tie and could tell him the date he last wore it, you got bonus points on your next test. He was old-school; he had his first period class stand up and say the Pledge of Allegiance every day. But he was current too; when a student asked a question, he didn't directly give an answer. Rather, he led the whole class to find the answer on their own by asking more questions.

This post can't go on forever, although I'm sure I could write for days. So I'll leave you with perhaps the most important lesson I learned from him. Junior year, our AP Biology class consisted of 10 girls. He liked to call us his sorority. And then we gave ourselves the name Beta Iota Omicron. Had shirts made and everything. Dubbed ourselves the cream of the crop. Ironic, since it was in that class that I truly failed for the first time. (I failed one quiz in the fourth grade, but that was because my teacher hated me and gave me incorrect instructions, so it doesn't really count. I don't like to talk about it.) My failure came in the form of a 46% on a test about the endocrine system. I was distraught. When I went to talk to him about my disappointment and failure, he was unfazed. He said it so shortly and sweetly, that I didn't even realize that I had just been given the biggest piece of wisdom I would ever need in life. He told me that failing is just a part of learning. And it only makes you want to learn more.

On my honor, I will try...

...to blog at least three times per week.

Kashmir and I made this pact with each other last night via Skype. Or maybe it was BBM. Regardless, we both agree that we enjoy writing and sharing it with the world (and by world we mean the collective dozen people who read our blogs).

Which brings me to another point that has been central in my life this week. My future. In a meeting with my boss this week he straight up asked me what I see in my future. And I didn't have a good answer because of two reasons:

A. There are SO MANY things I want to do that I don't really have a definitive life plan just yet.

and

2. I'm choosing to not make plans and just see where I end up.

But I have realized over the last two days that I for sure want to be a writer at some point in life. I want to write novels and memoirs and nonfiction and recipe books and how-tos. A little bit ofeverything, just to keep everyone guessing. But I suppose that for now, I'll see if I can manage the three posts per week!

So Many Books, So Little Time!

I adore books. Reading them, buying them, smelling them, organizing them, and most of all, sharing them! I also have a bad habit of buying more books than I have time to read. But lately I've been making a concerted effort to knock some of those books off my list. This week I finished two different books, both of which I thought were great reads and would happily recommend them to anyone.

First, is Eat, Pray, Love. For a long time, I wasn't sure how I felt about this book. I wasn't really sold on all the hype nor was I even that drawn to it just by the front cover. But the book was lent to me by a friend's mom, and I finally got around to cracking it open. It turns out it was better than I expected. It was slow in parts and I got frustrated with the author's whining a few times, but overall it was a really cool story. Not many people get the chance to experience all the different cultures she did. And my favorite part of the book is that while she does her own soul searching, I as the reader found that I was doing a little of my own. So if you get a chance to read it, do so. It probably won't be your favorite book ever, but will definitely get you thinking!

And second, is a book called The Inn at Lake Devine. It was lent to me by a coworker in what she likes to call her inter-office book club. Basically, we send books to each other through the inter-office mail that we think each other will enjoy. This book is set in the sixties and seventies and follows a stubborn Jewish girl who refuses to be told no, she can't visit this New England resort because Jews really aren't welcome there. So she makes a friend at summer camp and gets invited along with her family, which sparks a long series of events that lands our beloved main character [and narrator] in the midst of tragedy and awkwardness and a torrid love affair all at once. I started reading this book back at the end of June. And then accidentally left it at my parents' house in New York on the 4th of July. So they recently brought it back to me and I picked it up the other night before bed. I couldn't stop turning the pages. I was literally up until almost 2AM, dying to find out what was happening next. Needless to say, it was a quick, easy, and delightful read.

I know I didn't originally intend for this blog to be about books. But there are some I just can't keep to myself!!

Brandi, You're a Fine Girl

I am painfully aware that I haven't posted in a really long time. I am also painfully aware that there is A LOT in life about which I need to update my faithful readers. But this calls for cutting the line because I just can't keep it inside.

I am notorious for choosing to not make big decisions and take care of my life. For example, I moved to Maryland eight months ago and have yet to find a doctor or dentist. So when I dropped my phone in the sink at the Nashville airport last night, I was glad to find that it still worked and I didn't have to get a new phone. Because that would mean having to make a big life decision. But I woke up to the supreme disappointment that the screen was, in fact, on the water damage blitz.

For once, I decided to actually be a big girl (in the grown-up sense, as opposed to the could-use-a-gym-membership sense) and head to the Verizon store tonight after dinner. I took Kashmir along for the ride, and am SO happy with that decision. Because now we have this special moment to reminisce upon for the rest of our ridiculous lives.

We wait for Brandi the customer service associate to look up my info and redirect my number to an old phone for the next month and a half until I'm due for an upgrade. Kashmir and I are deep in our usual absurd chit chat and manage to catch each others' eyes immediately after we both noticed that we weren't paying enough for what Brandi was showing us. So then we had to work really hard to keep up the chatter without completely losing it.

I mean, it's one thing when your boobs are hanging out of your shirt. I've been known to show a little cleavage every now and then. But this was more than cleavage. This was BOOBS. And a sort of dingy white bra. Her shirt was dipping so low we could even see the belly skin below the chest. And it just stayed that way. THE WHOLE TIME.

Oh, my life!

Umm...GROSS!

So over the 4th of July weekend we took a little road trip up to New York to see the parents. We being me, Emily, and a half dozen people from CGT. On Sunday we went on a boat tour of the St. Lawrence Seaway. I made the conscious decision not to wear sunscreen since I have a wedding in about a month and had been totally rocking the farmer's tan. So it needed a little evening out.

And even out it did. I got a pretty intense burn. So much so that this past weekend, my skin bubbled and blistered and I had to take a 30-minute shower just to scrub it all off. But I couldn't get it all and it was pretty nasty.

And what I'm about to tell you makes Kashmir a real pal. I told her I needed an awkward favor and she immediately agreed before I even told her what it was. When I informed her that I needed her to help me peel the extra dead skin, she hopped right to it. That, my friends, is a true friend.

Relief

So, my biggest concern with being a temporary vegetarian was whether or not I would still enjoy Chipotle as much as I always have. And today I learned that my fears were unfounded. The veggie bowl was just as delicious, AND the guacamole was free. So this just might be do-able. :)

A Different Approach

This month marks four years since I was diagnosed with hypertension. Specifically, it was my birthday - and a pretty awful one at that. See, I was pretty sure I had strep so I went to the walk-in on my way back from running camp errands. And the doctor told me he really wasn't concerned with my sore throat because he was more interested in why I was still alive with such high blood pressure. And thus began several frustrating years of finding a way to lower it. Over the years I've been on several different medications, all with varying side effects before finally settling on the most effective/least intrusive.

Now, I generally don't talk about it and usually secretly judge people who post about their medical histories online. But since only about seven people read this anyway, I thought I'd go ahead and share. I've been doing a lot of research and most people suggest limiting meat in one's diet and eating mostly fruits and vegetables.

So, despite the fact that it will be terribly difficult, I'm going to give being a vegetarian a try. After all, didn't some wise man once say that if you always do what you've always done then you'll always get what you've always got. So we'll see how this goes....

Just Call me Voldemort

I started a new blog this weekend. It's all about my sister and how everything she touches turns to ridiculosity. For real. I did this despite the fact that I've just recently got into a groove of blogging here on a relatively regular basis. Although it's only been up and running for a little less than 24 hours, it's received pretty positive feedback so far. I know a lot of our friends have been waiting for it for years.

Anyway, since I've put a lot of time and thought into this blog and then went and started another one altogether, I'm beginning to understand how dear old Tom Riddle must have felt when he started splitting his soul and making horcruxes. Just not necessarily to such an extreme.

Don't Call Me Dramatic....Okay Go Ahead!

My sister and I are very different people. She spends 50 minutes doing her hair and makeup every morning, I spend five. She has a lead foot, I like to hang out in the granny lane. She plans to have a bunch of babies, I plan to be a great aunt. She reads People Magazine, I prefer Scientific American. She believes that everything has a place, my apartment looks like a tornado goes through on a regular basis. I think you get the point.

But there's one thing that I did pick up from her in my formative years. It's my tendency to be a little dramatic. And by a little dramatic I mean a lot dramatic. I just find that things are generally more fun if you take them to extremes. Today was a perfect example.

It was an interesting day, to say the least. It all started with an unexpected resignation of one of the key employees at work. This really affected the course of my day as he and I were supposed to be attending a grant awards reception tonight to accept a check from a local foundation. So his departure meant I had to go it alone.

I mean, I live a pretty independent life. I live alone. The best new friends I've made since moving here are the DJs on the morning radio shows who don't even know I exist. So doing things by myself isn't really a problem. But the fact that I was going into a relatively social atmosphere in which I didn't know A SOUL gave me feelings of opposition.

SO I whined about it all day at work and asked everyone I ran into if they wanted to join me. And everyone else already had plans. I guess I'm the only lame one without non-work Friday night plans. I can roll with that.

The whole shindig went smoothly, and I even made a friend from another agency in the same line of work as us. But on my way home I realized that it wasn't so bad after all. So why on Earth did I spend so much energy throughout the day making a big deal of it? The answer is simple. Cause Emily is my big sister and she taught me to be dramatic.

Check. Mate.

So I was just watching the end of an episode of Criminal Minds. And while the team was flying home, Gideon and Reed were playing chess. Gideon beat Reed with a checkmate. Reed quit. Gideon asked Prentiss if she played. And she did. So they played. Fade to black.

It reminded me of learning to pay chess with my grandfather when I was a kid. He was a big fan of the game, and quite an expert in strategery [sic]. I am also quite certain that his post-Air Force career was at Area 51, but that's another story altogether.

I'm beginning to feel that my life has become a giant game of chess. And just when I feel like I'm getting my life in check, something else happens and the world is like, "No Bekah, CHECK. MATE."

Es Verdad

"Be kinder than necessary...for everyone you meet is fighting some sort of battle."

-Unknown

Back Home Again in Indiana

So this has been quite an eventful five days of fun since I touched down and the still shiny and new Indianapolis International Airport. We ate our weight in just about everything this weekend and had plenty of laughs, naps, and all around good times. I am sitting at my gate in the airport waiting for the return flight to BWI and since I am unable to log in to my work desktop and get a head start on tomorrow, I figured this was a great time to try to chronicle the happenings of recent days.

Team Perkins picked me up right around 8PM on Wednesday and our first order of business was to stop and pick up some fancy dog treats for their English bulldog, Crumpet. Now, you might think that buying fancy treats for a dog is a bit extravagant. But she is just way to cute NOT to spoil. I give you Exhibit A:

And I rest my case.

After FINALLY getting to meet Crumpet, we walked on down to the local yokel Alabama Grill. It was almost 10PM and we could only order things off the menu that could be deep fried. But it was all delicious anyway and Team Perkins introduced me to a delicious new beverage...The Flying Dragon. At least that's what I think it was called. It was a-MAZE-ing.

The next morning was spent shopping for shoes for Inga to wear in the wedding...the next day. If it weren't for the last minute, nothing would get done! :) But she managed to find some cute little silver ballet slipper type flats that worked perfectly. We went to Chilis for lunch and that afternoon Inga and I got our nails done. That was an experience you can read about in the previous post.

That night was the wedding rehearsal and dinner. It was an outdoor wedding overlooking the Wabash River. Which is usually not so attractive. But it got dressed up for the occasion. It was super windy for the rehearsal and since it was right next to a golf course, some guys out on the nearest putting green were being jerks and chipping balls that were three feet from the hole so they came over and nearly hit us. And they waited till the balls landed to yell fore. I've never played a round of real (read: not putt putt or wii) golf in my life but even I know that rule! We finished the rehearsal and then decorated the reception hall. It was simple and beautiful and really really nice.

The rehearsal dinner was at my favorite Terre Haute hot spot, Moggers. They had a pulled pork buffet with apple crisp and bread pudding for dessert. Since the guys were going out to have another bachelor party of sorts, we decided that we should do the same. Except for the bachelorette. We thought about going and having a couple drinks, but with an under-21 with us we didn't think that was fair. So we decided to head to the little campus coffee shop in down town and just chill out. But right next door was a brand new hookah bar called Smoke in Peace.

This was fate. With none of us ever having actually smoked hookah in the past but all of us wanting to try, it was perfect. We got two different hookahs, one was called a Yellow Submarine with pineapple, banana, and orange and the other was a random mix of mango, cinnamon, and something else I can't remember. But a good time was had by all. At 11:20 Inga and I had to go and meet David at the movie theater since we had tickets to the midnight showing of Nightmare on Elm Street.

I generally don't go see horror films. Not because they're scary, but because they are ridiculous. I just laugh at all the "scary" stuff and rarely get freaked out. So Inga and I giggled our way through this Freddy Krueger update - especially when one of the girls goes all Exorcist on us - and then audibly judged the movie for making it seem as though you can jam an epi pen directly into someone's heart not kill her. After the movie David had to pee so Inga and I waited in the hall. The two guys who were sitting in front of us in the movie walked by, one of them looked straight at Inga and said, "stupid bitches!" I wish I had heard him...I would have responded by ensuring him that I am not, in fact, stupid.

Well I slept till almost noon the next day and by the time I woke up, Inga had already left to meet the bridal party and get their hair done and photos taken. David and I had lunch at this awesomely delicious home town greasy spoon diner. Then we got ready and headed over to Terre Haute for the big wedding! It was a perfectly lovely ceremony despite the wind which broke the unity candles. A mere eight hours later we were back at the Hotel Perkins and starving like crazy. So obviously, a midnight run to Hardees was in order!

We got up relatively early Saturday morning and went back to where the wedding was to help the newlyweds clean up the last remnants of the reception. After that was brunch at Bob Evans (delicious) and a search for a flea market in Brazil. The search turned out to be pretty fruitless but we did end up on the parade route for the Brazil Loyalty Day parade....which was an experience in itself. It included the usuals like the local state championship marching band, the trucks full of boy scouts throwing candy, and the town's dance academy. But the most interesting of the displays was Santa being towed in a fishing boat labeled Jackson Fire Rescue. I wish I was making this up.

Saturday night I hung out with my friend Betty and her two boys followed by a night DDing for David and Inga at a toga party that only had a handful of togas. It was an interesting party that involved people randomly trading shirts the entire night. And I had way more fun than I expected to. It was kinda nice to pretend like I was part of the college scene again...hahah! So after driving the drunks back in the rain, they went straight to bed but I was wide awake. So I started reading the book Push and couldn't put it down until I fell asleep an hour or so later.

I slept till 1:30 Sunday afternoon and then we hit Moggers for lunch. I had the bourbon wings this time...wings that are so delicious I have literally driven across the country for them. We then went to the mall to pick up some gourmet cookies for Inga to take to her dad for his birthday on Monday.

My internal clock must have known that it was Monday once again and I woke up at the crack of dawn ready to go. So I read some more of Push and then packed my bags. We went to the Umi Grille for lunch, which was as amazing as ever. And then it was time to head to the airport. Which brings me here. Waiting for my flight. Even though I don't really want to get on the plane. If nothing else, this trip has reminded me that I belong anywhere but where I'm going.

Creeper Magnet

I swear I have a magnet in my head that attracts creepers. Not necessarily directly to me, but definitely to my relative vicinity. In preparation for the wedding tomorrow, Inga and I went to get our nails done. We walked down to the little nail place in town (walking around town is another activity I've completely forgotten about since moving to the DC metro area...) and got started right away.

About five minutes after we walked in, a typical rural Indiana man came sauntering in. I figured he was in the market for a gift certificate or something, because he surely wasn't getting a mani/pedi! He asked one of the employees if he was from Vietnam. When the Asian man said yes, the creeper started in on a list of questions about traveling to Vietnam, getting a visa, how much things should cost there, how long the flight is, etc.

He continues grilling these guys about their home countries, and tells them that he has so many questions because he has never traveled before...never even been on a plane. So I'm wondering why he's choosing Vietnam as his first international travel destination. Through further ear hustlin (I must credit that term to my sister Emily) I learned that he has a girlfriend there. One he met on vietnamcupid.com. (I'll save trying to figure out how he found that website for another post altogether.) And after a year and a half of talking online, he's finally traversing the Pacific to make it real.

Where do these people come from and how do they always find their way into my life? I'm not complaining, though. It keeps it interesting.

Sometimes I Ramble

So I'm pretty excited to be heading back to Indiana tomorrow. I miss that place way more than I ever expected to. I am well into my usual pre-trip routine. Which of course means I have four things in my suitcase and I have taken a break to watch Glee and do a little blogging. It also means that there are clothes I need to take with me in the dryer at the moment and my apartment is kind of a disaster area.

There musn't be very many people flying from Baltimore to Indianapolis tomorrow night, because I still got an A boarding pass and I didn't check in online until an hour after I was allowed. I'm cool with that, though. It means that when I fall asleep on the plane, as I always do, and start mouthbreathing, there won't be anybody next to me to get grossed out by my drooling.

Anyway, I'm going back to HoosierLand for the wedding of two great friends I met during grad school. If knowing the two of them means anything, this will certainly prove to be all but a conventional wedding. It will be goofy and oddly romantic, beautiful and still simple, honest but hopeful. These two are so comfortable with themselves, with each other, and with their relationship. And to top it off they have one of those cutesy yet funny how-they-met stories. They were both crushing on each other, but she was younger and thought he saw her as a dumb freshman while he thought she just plain old hated him. Something made her kiss him one day and the rest is history. Oh, and their first dance is likely going to be Sir Mix-A-Lot's Baby Got Back. SO bring on the weekend!

Anyway, I'm going to a wedding on Friday and just went to a funeral on Sunday. I didn't know the lady really well, but it was very sudden and she was a big part of the camp community in this region. The funeral home was packed to the MAXX and the people there even filled the hallway outside the main room. The minister told this random story about fishing and how it relates to how short life is despite how long it may seem. And this got me thinking about how truly insignificant we all are in the grand scheme of things.

As much as we all like to think (and rightfully so) that our lives make a difference, when we die, the world just keeps on a-turning. I can't remember if it was in real life or on TV, but I once heard someone say that dying is just as big a part of life as living. So I wonder then why most people are so afraid of it. And then I think about it more and realize that we are afraid of dying because we are afraid of living.

Obviously we all wake up every morning (sometimes feeling like P Diddy) and continue breathing. But how much do we truly live each day? We go through the motions. We don't take that many chances. We play it safe and then wonder why we have so many regrets when we get old. I really don't know what I'm trying to say exactly, but my mind just keeps wondering.

And I've decided that I'm going to try really hard to stop worrying about the little things. What? I said I'm gonna TRY!

Welcome to Maryland

The following story was quite traumatic for me, so I've waited the better part of a month to share....

Part of the joy of living in this great state of Maryland is getting to register your car at the MVA. That's the DMV for all of you non-Marylanders out there (the BMV for all you Hoosiers). Except worse. I should start by touching on how amazing the website is. If you're looking for straightforward ANYTHING, it's the wrong place to go. It's nothing but a variety of links that lead you in circles to pages with nothing helpful.

So when it finally came time to register my car, I was going in pretty blindly. My first visit to the MVA was fruitless except to learn that the documents I brought with me to prove that I lived in Maryland were wrong. Went back a few weeks later to try again and successfully obtained a Maryland driver's license. Baby steps.

That day I also got a letter from the state asking my bank to send the title on my car to Maryland so it could be transferred from Indiana. Faxed it in, got confirmation from the bank that it was sent, and then waited for THREE WEEKS for Maryland to notify me by MAIL that they had received it. I'd be willing to bet it's the last state still relying on the modern-day equivalent of the Pony Express to take care of important, time-sensitive correspondence.

Anyway, since nothing in my life is ever plain 0ld normal, you can believe that this situation only gets better. And by better, I obviously mean more ridiculous. The majority of my random life happenings stem from being an Army brat, and this is no exception. Since I had to buy my car in a span of eight hours in order to get back to school where classes had already begun the previous week and was really in no financial state to BE buying a new car, Dad had to co-sign the loan with me. Although he would tend to disagree with me, I like to think that means he's primarily responsible for making the payments. Hey, a girl can dream, right!?

So seeing as though he as the primary on the loan, he is the primary on the title. Fair enough. But that gave me a total of ONE day with him being in town to visit to get everything else squared away. I set out that morning with high hopes: state inspection at 8, MVA at 10, Chipotle for lunch, and at my desk by 1 at the latest. I'm such an optimist. The first, and by far the coolest, event of the day was when I was checking in my car at the local dealership for the state inspection and oil change. When giving the service advisor my address, he laughed a little and said, "I'm your next door neighbor." My response of course was something along the lines of "NO WAY! I'm so sure it took an oil change for us to meet rather than in the stairwell."

Moving on. Dad and I left the dealership, stopped at Starbucks, and headed back to my apartment. There we finished a few last minute tasks, loaded Mom and Dad's car, then headed back to the dealership. That part of the day ended up taking an hour longer than expected. And then came the bad news. My car passed all parts of the inspection...except the window tint part. Apparently, if the front windows are tinted, you have to get the State Police to inspect it and give you a piece of paper stating that it isn't TOO dark. Hooray.

Off we go to the nearest State Trooper Barracks...only five miles away. Once there, the nice man inside informs us that they only do tint inspections at the MVA headquarters in Glen Burnie. I play it cool...but I'm FREAKING OUT inside. And naturally I get a bit dramatic. Getting to the Glen Burnie MVA was an adventure in itself because Stella (my GPS), though accurate, took me a really weird way. We park and Mom says she wants to stay in the car. Dad and I head to Building A, as the sign instructs us to do in order to get a tint check. And the sign on the door says that tint checks are temporarily in Building D.

Are you starting to see what I mean about nothing in my life being normal?

Since Building D is twice the distance from the car as Building A, I send Dad back to get my car while I head over and get in line. Thankfully though, there is no line. So as soon as Mom and Dad arrive, we are good to go. Or so I thought. The State Trooper man, who was not so friendly, informed me that the tint was tooooooo dark and I must scrape it off before I can register my car. This is when I start to break down. I told Dad he had to drive cause I wasn't capable at that point in time. On our way to the Lowe's across the street to buy razor blades and Goo Gone, the conversation went something like this...

Dad: Well at least you didn't have to pay for this first set of tint

Me: Yeah but I'm gonna have to pay to get it re-tinted

Mom: Well we can get you that for your birthday

Me: I don't want WINDOW TINT for my birthday

Mom: Well what do you want then?

Me: I don't know.

This is when I broke down and cried. I always cry at the stupidest things...like Gatorade commercials and Extreme Home Makeover.

Well we bought razor blades and went to town on my beautifully tinted windows. It was then that I had the revelation that I really wasn't going to make it in to work at all that day so I emailed my boss and basically said, "See you tomorrow." Then drove back to the dealership in Laurel to get the inspection slip. After that, it was on down to Waldorf, which is the best choice of MVAs in the area despite it's distance. We waited in a line longer than the Alaska coastline, got a number, and took our seats.

When our number was called, we had [finally] hit the luck jackpot. The lady behind the counter was the nicest, funniest, most helpful Motor Vehicles clerk I have EVER encountered. And Maryland is the fifth state in which I've had a license in the seven years I've been driving. So that's saying a lot. And a mere $378 later, I was no longer driving illegally in an unregistered vehicle halfway across the country.

But the best part of the day was still yet to come. We went to Chipotle for dinner. And this wasn't just any old visit to Chipotle. No, it was the first time I enjoyed a delicious burrito bowl since before Lent began. I'm really not sure what possessed me to give up Chipotle for Lent, but I'm sure I'm a better person for it. And now that it's over, Chipotle can stop worrying about going out of business due to my lack of visits.

My parents still had to drive seven hours back to New York since Dad had to work the next day. They got home after 2am. My parents rock.

Case of the Blues

Whether or not you know it, April is National Autism Awareness Month. And since the majority of my life these days revolves around people with Autism, I am obviously supportive of the cause. In order to promote awareness in the workplace, I made flyers and had them posted all over the campus encouraging people to wear blue on Friday, April 2. That day is World Autism Awareness Day and Autism Speaks, the largest Autism advocacy group, started a campaign called Light it up Blue.

The campaign had hundreds of businesses and facilities, including the [former] Sears Tower and LAX lighting their buildings with blue instead of white light on the night preceding WAAD.

But of course I have to take everything a little farther than necessary. I mentioned to a co-worker that I was planning to try to wear blue to work EVER DAY throughout April. So then it kind of became a challenge between him and I. April is 2/3 over and I am happy to report that I have worn blue to work every day, and I have yet to repeat an outfit. And I only purchased two items of clothing specifically for this month.

So, while our case of the blues isn't really changing the world, it's really making me appreciate the other colors in my closet. :)

We are Ridic!

This could quite possibly be my most favorite facebook chat conversation EVER....


12:01am Bekah:
omg
i wish i could remember what i was gonna say
OH YEAH
i cant remember if i already told you this
BUT
I told emily that she is not allowed to let you call her Boss

12:02am Kashmir:
hahaha
you told me that, but I kn ew that already
like...I could jnot imagine calling her boss
it would be weird

12:03am Bekah:
hahah ok
one of these days

12:03am Kashmir:
I like to call her Carmz

12:03am Bekah:
when i have my own awesome camp
you can work there

12:03am Kashmir:
YAY

12:03am Bekah:
obvi
i mean
if you want to of course
i wont force you

12:04am Kashmir:
of course

12:04am Bekah:
but i would strongly encourage it

12:04am Kashmir:
I would love it.

12:04am Bekah:
and by strongly encourage i mean blackmail if i have to

12:04am Kashmir:
hahaha
look, you know me
if you are willing to overlook my crazy and emply me full time
I am smart enough to let you

12:05am Bekah:
hooray!

Red Light, Green Light

Let's be honest. For the past six years, I've built my life around camp. I've missed countless friends' weddings, worked through six of my birthdays without a second thought, skipped a week of grad school classes, missed ALL of my cousins' high school graduations, passed on tons of celebrations, and didn't catch a single second of the Beijing Olympics. All because I work at camp.

So when I add up all the things I've missed, I begin to wonder why. And the answer is simple. Because what I've gained has more than made up for it all. Camp has taught me about what really matters in life. That kids are kids and people are people and that we all just need to be loved. I don't mean the happily ever after I love you I love you more kind of love. Just to know that there is someone else in this world who cares enough to take care of you, who is willing to make sacrifices to ensure your safety.

Even though I had to get a "real job" I've been weekending back at camp, unwilling to let it go completely. Right now I'm at the last weekend of the season and it's starting to REALLY sink in that I won't be spending the summer back on the mountain. That means that I won't be working on my birthday this summer, and I WILL be traveling to one of my best friend's weddings in August. But it doesn't mean I'll be forgetting anything that I've learned over the years.

A couple weekends ago, we were playing a game of Red Light, Green Light. And as I was watching one of the kids be the stoplight, I noticed something amazing. All the others, whether they completely understood the rules of the game or not, were going on green and stopping on red. It wasn't that they had some innate sense about the difference between red and green lights. But what struck me was the way they all worked together to play the game.

The fifteen-year old girl with high-functioning Autism was pushing the 30-year old woman in a wheelchair across the grass; one of the nine-year old triplets with Autism was keeping one of the wanderers on track; and a girl who is usually in her own world completely repeated the commands of red light green light to herself, stopping and starting a couple steps behind the rest. And I thought to myself that everything you need to learn in life you can learn from a game of Red Light, Green Light. Stay when you need to stay, go when you need to go, and be sure to help the others along the way.

Addicted.

Exactly one week ago my sister introduced me to Lost. She had watched the entirety of Season 1 while at home sick. On our way home from dinner we stopped at Target where she proceeded to buy Season 2. I tried so hard to not be interested in it. I played around on facebook and busied myself with other tasks like doing laundry, painting my nails, cleaning out my purse, etc.

But after about three episodes, I was hooked. I needed so badly to know what was going to happen with every single plot line. So much so that I was googling things like 'Does Hurley find Sun's ring in the dog poo?' and 'Does Michael ever find Walt alive?' I was reading plot synopses four seasons ahead while still watching Season 2. I was reading character and actor bios on Wikipedia. I was searching for Lost in my facebook friends' profiles and checking to see if they were online so they could tell me what was going to happen. I couldn't get enough - and I had only seen a few hours of it.

I really shouldn't be surprised, though. I mean, I am very aware of how quickly I become addicted to things. It took me all of three pages to get addicted to the Twilight books...and Harry Potter, The Lord of the Rings...you get it; two episodes of Rock of Love and I couldn't stop watching those trashy women throw themselves at Bret Michaels; one day of having a Twitter account and I was sharing every detail of my life with the world; I had a blackberry for a couple of hours before I felt naked without it.

So I'm easily addicted. Big deal, right? Let's just be glad I've never tried any hard drugs....

What's the deal?

I just can't figure out why I can manage my time so successfully at work, but as soon as I get home...I waste time like it's my job!

And it frustrates the hell out of me!

Oh, Canada!

I LOVE THE OLYMPICS. I love everything about them: the commercials, the traditions, the athletes' amazing life stories, the team uniforms, the way they bring the world peacefully together, the shiny medals, the fierce but friendly competition, and the idea that everyone has a chance.

I have particularly enjoyed watching these Vancouver Winter Olympics. This is, of course, because the winter games are my personal favorite. But also because they seemed to be just what the world needs at the moment. With half of the planet at war and the other half rocked by horrendously tragic natural disasters, it's nice to see people doing what they love in the name of country.

There's just something in the air when the Olympics are going on. And kudos to Canada for one of the most memorable Olympic Games. Let's be honest, the Beijing games left some big shoes to fill. And in true Canadian style, Vancouver didn't try to do the impossible and top those ceremonies. But what Vancouver may have lacked in Chinese grandeur, they certainly made up in emotion. From the tragic start of the games to the beautiful opening ceremonies, the gold medal underdog upsets to the down-to-the-last-second victories, and from the unpredictable weather to the constant feel-good vibes, it was definitely an Olympiad to remember.

So way to go, Canada! Keep it classy.

And damn, I love William Shatner.