piling up

It's getting to be that crazy time of year known as the end of the semester. It seems that the busier I get the more things start to pile up. Now, I know I have a lot on my plate and I should probably give myself a little break from the voices in my head telling me what to do, but it's just oh so hard! I really, truly want to be perfect at everything. I want to be able to get up when my alarm goes off, take the dog for a walk, prepare myself a nice healthy breakfast, shower, get ready, pack my bag and make my lunch all the while getting to the train station without having to run to catch my train. In theory it shouldn't be so freaking difficult -but it is. I find myself going through spurts of being able to get up and moving when my alarm goes off. I'm fantastic at getting up and resetting my alarm for a few extra minutes. And yes, I know that I'm not actually getting any kind of quality sleep, but it's just so cozy in my bed that I don't want to leave it. Hey, even the dog doesn't want to get up then.

Here is proof of what my life becomes when I'm constantly running around trying to be perfect person. Bags get dumped on chairs and laundry gets washed, but not folded or put away.

The couch becomes my "safe place" leaving a permanent imprint of my behind. Sad - I know.

Things become so hectic that I can barely manage to close my drawers. Pathetic.

I feel like I'm constantly striving for a balance that I am unable to reach. It gets frustrating after a while. A constant battle that I may never be able to conquer. At some point I get so frustrated with the way things look that I become a little whirlwind cleaning, sorting, putting away machine. It feels so good when I'm done and then I start to wonder why it is I can't dedicate 10-15 minutes a day to this sort of thing. The answer is that I can I just have to start making it part of my routine. The pattern has been that I do pretty well for a week or so after a straightening binge and as things continue to get busier I start being more lax in my pickupedness my space looks more and more like the pictures above. Until the frustration builds and I do an evening of cleaning and have to remind myself that I wasn't meant to be perfect.

my baby turned 1!

On February 8th my little guy turned 1! It was a pretty momentous occasion in our house. I know that Gideon is dog, but he's not just any dog - he's the one I waited for since I was a little kid. My mom was always so adamant that we not have pets requiring a lot of extra care. I begged and begged and begged to have a dog growing up. Mom's response was that when I have my own place someday I could make that commitment. I tested this a time or two with some smaller, still furry, animals, but never had the guts to bring home a dog. A couple kittens made it in for two days before my brother and I got found out and the threat of having them dropped on the side of the road if I didn't take them back where I got them was enough for me not to try and bring home a dog.

I picked up Gideon on Easter weekend 2012. My life has been so much richer since then. I knew he was one of the things missing from my life and I have to say that he was worth the wait. It hasn't always been rainbows and sunshine, but I think that he has made my life AND my mom's so much fuller. When I needed to move from the city back to her townhouse leaving Gideon behind was not going to be an option. I think by that point she had already fallen in love with him and was much more amenable to having him for an extended stay. Every once in a while she jokes about if she had known she would have a dog like Gideon around she wouldn't have been so stubborn about getting one all those years ago. I don't think it's that funny.

I made him this great banner

 

and hat!

the art of being quiet

I know that at least six women will be talking about me when they go home tonight.

One of the things I hate the most about being a commuter is the noise on the train. The older I get the more I rely on quiet to be able to focus and get my work done. In the morning I can usually manage to sit in the quiet car on Metra. The people who sit in that car know that if you sit there you have to be quiet. They are habitual commuters. These are the people who are responsible for the quiet car's creation.

In the evening, especially a small window of time between 3:30 and 5:00 p.m.. Today was my last day, for about a month, to go through my regular commute. I had gotten off to a rocky start by missing my normal train in the morning and had to drive to Barrington to get on the next express. Friday is a day I look forward to because I can sit in a quiet car on the way home. There are several days a week where I go home too early for the quiet car hours.

I had my last day of classes today and I should have been feeling wonderful and free, but instead I was anxious. Maybe it was an omen. When I got onto the 3:45 train and found my quiet car it was awfully loud. I never know whether or not to say anything at that point or wait until we get closer to departing the station. I should have said something at that point. I think if I had been in the car before the talking began I would have been more comfortable letting them know that this was a quiet car. Plus I really hate being the one who informs the other passengers (even though my gut churns when people are talking because all I want is for them to shut up).

Today I did say something. I said something and the three groups of two women kept on talking anyway all the while shooting me dirty looks. We start moving, the conductor announces that there are quiet cars on the train, and the women keep talking. I get fed up and say something again. More dirty looks. Then backtalk from the women. They were affronted because they thought I was being rude. I wasn't. I was just informing them of the rules of the quiet car.

To say it was a shit show is an understatement.

Here is what Metra says about the quiet car: "Metra Quiet Cars: To give passengers some peace and quiet during their commute, Metra has designated Quiet Cars on all morning inbound and evening outbound rush-hour trains Monday - Friday. The cars are designed to give riders a space free of some common nuisances such as cellphone calls, loud headphones and loud conversations. On all lines except the Metra Electric Line, the Quiet Cars are the second car from the locomotive and the second car from the other end of the train on rush-hour trains with six or more cars. If there are five cars or fewer on the train, only the second car from the engine is a Quiet Car. On the Metra Electric Line, only the third car from the south end of the train is a Quiet Car. There are no Quiet Cars on two-car trains. All Quiet Cars are identified with decals on outside of the car and signage inside the car. The rules are simple: No cell phone calls. If passengers must answer their phones, they should make it brief or move to the vestibule or another car. Conversations are discouraged; if they must be held they should be short and in subdued voices. All electronic devices must be muted, and headphones should not be loud enough for anyone else to hear. Quiet Cars are in effect on all inbound trains arriving downtown at or before 9 a.m. and all outbound trains leaving downtown between 3:30 p.m. and 6:30 p.m, Monday - Friday. Click here to see the Quiet Car brochure. Metra expects Quiet Cars to be largely enforced by peer pressure and conductor intervention when necessary. Many riders said that having a rule in place empowered them to ask noisy people to be quiet or move. Conductors carry small notices that they can discreetly present to passengers who are violating the quiet car rules. Metra hopes all passengers will remember to treat their fellow passengers with courtesy and respect, no matter where they are sitting."

As I was leaving the train one of the women said "won't miss you" as I walked past. At this point I was so hopped up I had to turn around and confront that. I'm sure I made things worse. All I was trying to do was point out that they were being disrespectful in ignoring the rules of the quiet car. Her parting shot to me was that I should "get a life". How is it that adult women can behave like such insolent teenagers. Get a life? Really? That was my problem - I had no idea! Then the next set of women had something to say to me. Did I understand what quiet even meant? Yes, I did, but according to the rules established by Metra these women did not.

Could I have handled things differently. Of course. Should I have? Maybe. I will take responsibility for my actions, but that doesn't mean I was wrong to have informed them. When I got off the train the tears were already threatening to unleash themselves. It was so hard for me to say anything in the first place. Then to be treated with such hatred was hard. After a bout of ugly tears I decided something. I can work on my approach, but in the end I'm still the asshole no matter what I do. If I don't say anything I stay anxious over being annoyed that I'm in the quiet car and people are being disrespectful. If I say something (no matter how nicely) I'm the asshole for saying something. Now, I know that the people who are talking are not regular train riders. I get that. But just because you're only taking the train today doesn't mean you aren't subject to the same rules as regular riders.

shift

The leaves are changing color and the weather is FINALLY shifting from the brutal heat we experienced this summer to the cool mornings and evenings of fall. The shift from summer to fall is one of my favorite. I'm finding that this year the shift in weather is also mirrored in my personal life. I'm settling back in to living with my mom. School is in full swing and I'm being a neurotic crazy person again.

This is a reflection of my brain right now.

It's hard to believe that I'm already more than half way through the semester. There is so much on my plate right now that I rarely have time to just wind down and relax. Today I took a mental health day. I should have spent my time trying to catch up on somethings, but instead I spent all of the day catching up on my DVR. I can't even work up the anxiety over that because I think I just needed a day to mentally check out. So at about 2pm I decided I would take advantage of it and go all out. Tomorrow I can worry about everything, today is just for chilling.

writing

I want to be a writer. That is my professional dream/obsession/compulsion/future career goal. This dream was one of the reasons why I decided to go back to school. There kept being this voice inside me that wanted to know if I could do it. I though that the only way I would ever figure it out, instead of constantly wondering and filling my days with what ifs, was if I just jumped in and tried.

I think that everyday is a journey to get there. Some days feel a whole lot more productive than others, but each word I write, each sentence that I revise, is one small step closer to realizing that goal. The hardest part about being a writer is actually sitting your butt in the chair and writing. One of the goals of this blog was to try to get my butt in the chair and start writing, no matter how small a contribution I made.

This last month has been a little crazy, and I've thought of a thousand things I want to blog about, but actually getting my butt back in the chair has been a chore.

There have been some things that I want to write about, but I don't feel like I'm ready to share them with the world yet. No matter what I do when it comes down to here, there will no longer be a way to hide it. I don't mean that in a negative way. Naturally I'm a sharer. But sometimes there are things that need to be kept close to the heart because that's the only way they'll ever get resolved.

I digress...

Now that I'm settled back into my mom's house and school has started - I'm trying desperately to get into a routine. Today is Sunday and that means that I should be doing as much homework as possible so that my week is as smooth as it can be. (Plus there's a whole bunch of stuff that's due tomorrow morning!) My mom is at work, the doors are open to let in the wonderful breeze, the dog is sleeping, and I'm working. It takes me a while once I finally sit down, because let's face it who really wants to do homework? So I mess around on facebook, check my e-mail a few hundred times, look some stuff up on Google, maybe do a few chores - these are all things that I do in order to get ready to do my work.

One of my tasks is to figure out where I'm going to go to grad school. My parents would like to see me get a job after I finish my bachelors, but my dream to be a professional writer means more education. The last couple days I've really been starting to look at possible programs. Most of them only admit 8-10 students a year. Half of those students are fiction and the other half poetry. Since I'm neither a poet nor do I want to try for both (if they even let you that is), it means that the competition for those few spots are very, very tight. I had a quick moment of "am I crazy", but then I glanced over at my bookshelf.

I have an over flowing shelf of how to books on writing. When ever I go into a bookstore I always peruse the reference section for writing books. It's more than just a desire, it's a compulsion. Something that I just HAVE to do. So, I may not be a professional now, but I'm already a writer in my heart and soul.

Isn't there something that you just feel compelled to do, no matter what the obstacles?

hag hair limbo

Moving day is looming like that black hair on your chin you just noticed is 2in long and glaring at you every time you look in the mirror - and, of course, you don't have your tweezers handy to get rid of it. I've been in that weird state of limbo since the thought first came up that I might have to move. I kept it together pretty well in the beginning. Or at least I convinced myself it wasn't really going to happen - because I said so, but in the back of my mind I knew that it was most likely inevitable. It would have taken a really great job or a miracle for me to not move back home. My initial denial lead to this eerie calm about going back. Honestly I wasn't sure what was going on because I kept waiting for the true freak out. Sure I would have twinges of pain over the thought of leaving, but no major meltdowns. I was afraid to pat myself on the back for having such an adult reaction.

I've been going through the motions of getting my stuff ready and I have the majority of my things all packed and waiting for the movers. Still no freak out. I feel like I should be impressed with myself, but I have to admit that waiting for the freak out to happen is almost worse than just having one. It exemplifies the state of limbo I've been living in for the past few months. I HATE limbo. I'm just ready to move on, literally, and get my life and world back on track. I'm finishing up packing my stuff for the movers tomorrow and trying to regain some of my focus for my studies.

Here's what packing looked like 2 weeks ago at the very beginning of the box-a-palooza

and after the very productive packing session with my wonderful friend Martina

and of course the lovely Martina helping me pack (Gideon would not leave her alone the entire time she was here!)

rock and a hard place

Recently I've had to come to some realizations about my living situation. In January I moved to the city with a lot of hope and optimism. I didn't have a huge plan - but I had the feeling that it was just going to work out, because at the time that is what I needed to beleive. Hope is the one thing that keeps us going on a regular basis. I mean can you imagine a life with no hope? What would be the purpose of getting out of bed every day?

We often just want things to work out "just because". I am no different.

At this point it is a certainty that I will have to move back home. I'm really torn about this. I absolutely LOVE living in the city. I love the hustle and bustle. I love how at certain times of the day 100 or more people could walk by my apartment or early in the morning it is so quiet and peaceful you can't imagine all the noise that comes later. I have the most awesome apartment in the world and I decorated it very cute, trendy and the grown up erica way.

It would be easier in a way to live back at home (as well as save a lot of money), but there are down sides as well. It means being very limited in when I can work (if at all). A long commute every day.

When I look around at my apartment my heart hurts a little to think that I'm going to have to leave. But I also think that it's $10,000+ less that I have to be in debt. Living on my own has been a new experience and I think that no matter how you prepare the reality is degrees different. Money, money, money....why do you hate me so?

The eventual thoughts of "did I do enough?" always crop up. And of course looking back it feels like there could always be more, but perhaps at the time it felt like you were.

I started writing this post a few weeks ago, but didn't have the heart to publish it because I felt so torn about my situation. I have been making plans to move for the last week. I went home this weekend to start getting my room ready. My friend Martina came over yesterday and helped me pack about 50% (maybe more) of my things. I still feel torn, but I know that I am making the best decision for myself. Everything else will fall into place as it was meant to. Now that I know how much I liked living in the city I have something to work towards so that I can live here again.