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.