What do you want to be when you grow up?

I've been asking myself that question for a very long time.  I've run the gamut - everything from veterinarian, to dentist, to landscape architect.  Each time I get really excited about this new direction, do lots of research, talk a bit game ... and then *pffft* ... it fizzles.   I was sure I had found *THE THING* a while back when I ran across a blog that talked about being a Garden Historian.  That pretty much summed up what I wanted to do at that time.  The stumbling block for that path came in the form of no school in the United States offers this type of Graduate degree.  Sure - I could pack up move my two crazy dogs and go to the UK, but wasn't financially feasible.  So I went back to the drawing board.

Then I thought I'd bite the bullet and go for a MLA from Texas A&M University and get a Historic Preservation graduate certificate to go along with it for good measure.  An MLA is expensive and really way beyond the scope of what I was dreaming up in my head.  It just wasn't the right fit ... again.  I have realized that part of the problem is that I'm not really sure how to define what I want to do post graduate school.  What kind of job do I want?  What kind of life am I hoping for?  What kind of impact do I hope to have on ... well on anything?  Am I just bored with my life and looking for something/anything that isn't what I'm doing now?

Several years ago someone asked me what would be my dream job.  Without hesitation I answered "to write for a travel magazine."  (I told you - gamut).  To this day I would still say that is my dream job. So why am I looking in all of these different directions?  What about writing for a travel magazine still holds my fascination? Knowing me it's because I haven't tried to figure out a way to make it happen.

My last post has opened my eyes to my Luddite tendencies.   I prefer to hold a book (and to catch a whiff of "old book" as well) rather than a Kindle.  I miss getting letters from friends.  I've never been a fan of long drawn-out phone conversations - so I admit to liking the texting trend, but I still prefer a live conversation with an actual person over both of those options.  Sure there are conveniences that come with technological "improvements", but I sometimes worry if we're losing our connection to (and possibly our compassion for) our fellow humans.  It just feels like we're all in such a rush to get somewhere, do something, be faster and "better" ... we're missing the point and passing by some really amazing and beautiful things. 

I've been reading and hearing about a newish trend.  People are seeking out their roots.  They are looking for "the old."  It's like history is the "new thing" again.  This makes me happy.  While I think "Who Do You Think You Are?" is a fun TV show, I'd like to see more people have that kind of access to get in touch with their own heritage and roots.  I hope that this emerging trend of Heritage Tourism is a lasting one - and yet I hope that those historical places aren't trampled in the process of people exploring their past.

Call it kismet, a month ago I received a LivingSocial deal to get half-price fee for an 8 hour photography class.  I had recently bought a new DSLR camera and was clueless on how to use it (I even bought the Canon T2i for Dummies book!) so I decided to do it. 

Best. Decision. Ever!

I have found a new (and lasting) love of photography.  I started poking around the Internet (ok - that's another technology convenience I do like) and looking for jobs that involve photography.  I started thinking about that dream job again.  I started wondering if it was shallow to want to travel, take pictures, and then write about it.  I was a little worried that once again I was being distracted by the newest "shiny" idea.  I started trying to fit together all of these pieces of a puzzle and make it resemble some kind of new picture of the future.  It's really hard to do put together a puzzle when you aren't sure what the finished picture is supposed to look like. 

One of my favorite quotes is "Not all who wander are lost."  I've done a lot of wandering (and wondering).   In this recent wandering I've been trying to identify *what* exactly appeals to me in each of the options I've considered in the past.  I love being outside.  I love exploring.  I can hear a story being told by a place and want to capture it and share it.  I love digging in the dirt.  I love taking photos.  I want to be able to tell a story with a single picture.  I love to see a completed project - and knowing that "*I* did that."    I love to write, but recognize that I am out of practice and need to hone those skills.  I love opening perceived borders and boundaries in the world around us and letting people see there is more beyond their own neighborhood.  I have a desire to preserve our past by sharing the stories of significant places and people and their role in getting us to where we are today.  I want children to learn cursive (ok that one is just a personal mission and has nothing to do with the rest of this).

Now, I just have to figure out how to package all of this into one degree (if that's even necessary).  Can someone please tell me how you label this "profession"?

Until next time ... keep wandering my friends.  You'll discover some amazing things when you choose to meander rather than rush.

Absolutely Terrifying...

Last weekend I was sitting in my recliner, taking a break from yard-work, flipping through channels and ended up watching the most terrifying movie ever (to be fair, I've seen it before but for some reason this time it really disturbed me). Don’t get me wrong, I have seen my share of scary movies over the years, but none of them have given me nightmares or kept me up at night. This little movie just sort of snuck up on me.  It seduced me with an adorable animated character.  It tricked me with its love story.  It wormed its way into my brain and has since kept me up at nights worrying about how this really is not so far from being “real.”  And that terrifies me.

Yep.  This is the movie that’s been keeping me up at night.   I don’t know if it’s the endless landscape of garbage being piled up one small cube at a time, or if it’s the monotonous routine the little guy follows (or possibly the pet roach *shudder*).   Maybe it’s the fact that all life has been evicted off of the planet because of all the crap we waste/consume/throw away.  And it’s really not such a suspension of disbelief to see that is where we are headed.   How do we not see what we are doing to our home?  Landfills overflowing with plastic, junk, etc. and we keep making new places to dump it when this one is full.  Out of sight - out of mind.  This alone is distressing enough, but wait - there’s more.

Jump to the next part of the movie where we are shown “life” as it exists in exile.  The people “float” around rather than walk.  Everything is within arm’s reach.  There is a screen in front of everyone’s face and they communicate through technology … even when the person is sitting right next to them.  They are overweight, unable to interact directly, there is no effort made by them to do … well anything.   Are we really that far away from this scenario?  Already we text the person across the room; we resort to using Facebook to keep in touch with family and friends rather than send a letter or call (I’m as guilty of this as the next person); we hear about people feeling no inhibitions when it comes to attacking a reputation of someone via social media (cyber-bullying) - when did we stop caring about caring?  Students have access to a wealth of information now via the Internet … and yet they can’t write in cursive (and why bother teaching since no one is expected to be able to actually "write" anymore).  It seems to me we are dumber than ever.  We no longer educate our children at home - it’s the school’s job to do that, but the schools are no longer concerned with true education.  They only care about teaching kids how to pass a “big test”. 

The movie was bad enough, but then I kept running across different things that just seemed to lend support to this vision.  I caught a section of an episode of “Modern Marvels.”  I watched as some guy gushed about how homes of the future will be full of “gadgets” that do everything for you and how exciting this will be.  For instance, your front door will open and suggest you take an umbrella because it’s raining outside.  Really?  I need a door to tell me to take an umbrella?  Why is having a machine think for me considered progress?  What about the knife that will slice bananas for you - after you unpeel the banana, place it on the tray, scan your identity card, scan both thumbs, program slice thickness … uhm thanks I’m already done doing it the old-fashioned way.   

Later in the week, I thought watching "Cold Case" would be safe.  Oh no - the episode that I watched featured the story of a serial bomber who has become disillusioned with society and technology.  His bombing spree was triggered because his daughter, wracked with pain from cancer, had been waiting in the hospital for over two hours and couldn't be given anything for her pain because the computer system was down.  A physician's assistant "couldn't do anything" and "was sorry" - the subtext being that technology makes us as cold and impersonal as the machines.  The bomber targeted those he felt represented what was wrong in society; the physician's assistant at the hospital, the clerk at a "Big Box" store who told him that a defective product couldn't be returned because it was "over 30 days" and it would just be cheaper to throw it away and buy a new one, the brother who wouldn't give him the money to save their childhood home (and entire neighborhood) from being leveled to make way for a shopping center.   When he is caught he's sitting in a train station.  He mentions that his father had done the tile-work there and how that was when people took pride in their work and built things to last.  He's not wrong.

I’m all for technology.  I’m all in favor of technology that improves our lives (hey, refrigerators and flushing toilets are awesome), but I think we need to maintain a balance where technology helps us but doesn’t completely replace or render the "human factor" obsolete.   There are some things that nature does pretty well - an amazing balance and design if we allow it to do so.   How is it better when technology helps produce something that makes it easier to grow massive crops, but kills off the honeybee needed to pollinate those crops?   We continue to try and make things bigger and “better.”  We overproduce and then it goes to waste because we are selfish and we don’t share that abundance.  Why are there thousands of pounds of wasted food tossed from grocery stores when they are not purchased, and yet thousands of people in this country alone go to bed hungry every night?  Why do we feel it is important to flaunt success with an accumulation of “stuff” that gets thrown away at some point to make room for more stuff?  Why are willing to sacrifice our environment for convenience of a plastic water bottle?   

I don’t understand why the people who have an abundance of wealth don’t use it to make life better for others without worrying about being "paid back."  I don’t understand why big companies are willing to sacrifice the environment to make more money.  I don’t understand why we as inhabitants of this planet aren’t terrified about the direction in which we are headed.  Is it such a big problem that we can’t actually see it?  Or is it just easier to sleep at night because we ignore it?  Sort of like that broken electric toothbrush that’s now residing in a landfill some where … out of sight, out of mind.

In an effort to find some positive ... I do see a trend that people are trying to reduce their "footprint."  Gardens-as-landscape are growing in popularity (no pun intended).  Recycling programs are improving.  Bans on plastic bags encourage the use of reusable bags.  There is a fascination with "old-fashioned" methods (canning, homesteading, living "off grid", etc).   We still long for a connection of sorts with our fellow man.  Heck, even WALL-E craved companionship and thrived on curiosity and discovery.  I suppose the message to carry forward is that despite a bleak outlook - hope lies on the horizon.

Does it Matter?

Last week someone I know died unexpectedly.  This person was 39.  I'm not going to elaborate on this other than to say it got me thinking.  Bear with me as this might be a bit of stream-of-consciousness writing...

For about a month I've been in a funk/fog/depression.  I'm too stubborn to see a therapist or take a pill.  I push myself through it and eventually will come out the other side ... stronger.  I've been through this before (long time ago) and usually have been able to keep it bay.  This time it sort of snuck up on me.  I couldn't find my happy.  And I couldn't figure out why I couldn't find my happy.  What was my happy? 

Of course this typically downward-spirals into a full on pity party for one.  No one really likes me.  They act like they are my friend out of some obligation.  I'm really not "cool" enough for "those" people to really want to spend time with me.  No one ever calls and asks me to go do things.  Blah, blah, blah.  Even I got annoyed listening to myself whine.  I'd think "you can pick up a phone too you know.  Why do *they* have to call *you*?"  "Because, if they really like me they will call me."  "So, how do you know they aren't thinking the same thing?  That if you want to spend time with them, you'll call."  (Yeah - I was having conversations with myself.   Good thing no one actually witnessed these or I'd be in lockup for sure!)  But, enough of that.  This isn't a ploy for a pat on the head and "there, there, it'll be alright."  Just setting up for the rest of the story.

Last night I had a break-through.  Or possibly a break-down.  I went to bed and suddenly the tears started.  Next thing I know it is gut-wrenching, wracking sobs.  I couldn't stop.  My dog Gus moved from his normal spot of his back along the opposite pillow to his back against Mom's tummy.  He kept licking my hand.  I cried more.  Then he started pacing and I knew he was upset and I started to try and get my tears under control - mainly to put him at ease.  And that's when I realized.  All I was wanting was to feel like I matter.  I think this was triggered by some of the feelings swirling around the death of that person I know.  How would people react if I suddenly died with no warning?  Would it matter to them?  Would I be a topic of gossip for a day?  A week?  Would people speculate?  Would people feel safe to say the less-than-pleasant things they had held in check while I was alive?  Would my life have mattered to anyone?  Would I be missed?  All of these thoughts were wrapped up in the tears and purged last night.  Sometimes a good cry is necessary and cleansing.  It helps to wash away that fog.

As my little Gus paced, I realized that I mattered to him.  I know that I matter to my mother.  I know I matter to a group of friends I've been blessed with.  I realized that I don't need reassurances about this, but small reminders that I matter to someone go a long way.  What I also realized is that others also like to know they matter and I need to do a better job of letting people know they matter to me.  So with my newly found "happy" this morning, I also resolved to remind people I care about that they are important. 

They matter.  

I'd encourage everyone to let at least one person in their life know that they matter.  You never know who is needing that simple reassurance that day. 

Are you there God? It's me, Jill.

Someone posted something today on Facebook that basically asked "where was your god when this and anything bad happens?"  and the general feeling of this person is that prayer is a waste of time that is better spent on getting off your backside and "doing something."  I like this person.  I respect them and think they're pretty cool.  However, it triggered a need to respond and so I'm going to do it on my blog.  I don't like doing the passive/vague response thing, but I also felt I have the right to write and wanted to do so without offending them or disrespecting their belief system.

Below is my "response" to their question (rhetorical as it may have been).

************

My faith (which is decidedly different than "religion") leads me to believe that God doesn't *make* bad things happen.  We are not puppets on a string for Him to control.  One of the greatest gifts given to us is our freedom of choice.  You choose to not believe in God.  I choose to believe.  We both choose to advocate for innocents (whether it's animals, kids, people) and do good in our own little part of this world.  Choices.  There are others who choose to create chaos, terror, death and destruction.  Others choose to waste the abundance of blessings in their life.  Still others choose to persecute those who don't believe the same as they do.  All of these choices stem from that one gift - the ability to act for ourselves and not be acted upon - aka freedom to choose our path.  A Zeus-like "God" would be more in line of not allowing bad things to happen, or preventing them. 

We can also choose to fix and improve the world surrounding us and make our world better - regardless of whether we believe in God, a Benevolent Higher Power, Budah, the Flying Spaghetti Monster or nothing.  They do not have to be mutually exclusive.  How is the fact that I choose to believe in God, and choose to pray Him, diametrically opposed to choosing to make the world a better place?  For those who don't want to be judged for non-belief, I see a lot of memes out there shoving non-belief in my face and belittling my belief.  I'm sure there are just as many where opinions are reversed and that saddens me too.  It would be nice if we could all just "get along" and regardless of our belief systems just "do good."  I'm also saddened that there are wing-nuts out there that will say this (and other tragedies) are punishment for something.  I don't believe that at all.

I actually Googled "Why does God let bad things happen?" and found a several good sites with good commentary.  Someone else was able to put into words things I have struggled to understand and explain:

"God did not create evil and suffering. Now, it’s true that he did create the potential for evil to enter the world, because that was the only way to create the potential for genuine goodness and love. But it was human beings, in our free will, who brought that potential evil into reality.

Some people ask, 'Couldn’t God have foreseen all of this?' And no doubt he did. But look at it this way: many of you are parents. Even before you had children, couldn’t you foresee that there was the very real possibility they may suffer disappointment or pain or heartache in life, or that they might even hurt you and walk away from you? Of course — but you still had kids. Why? Because you knew there was also the potential for tremendous joy and deep love and great meaning."

Some may choose to say this is all some kind of rationalization for those who believe.  Maybe it is.  The point is that I *do* choose to believe.  And like many have pointed out in the wake of this latest tragedy "look for the helpers", "the good outweighs the bad",  and "there are more good guys than bad guys in this world population."  I do my best to not belittle others' beliefs.  I do my best to be a good person and to improve my little corner of the world. I try to be one of those "good guys".  I also believe that there is a Higher Power ... a Master Designer ... and I choose to call Him God. 

As far frustration over Americans being self-centered and only being concerned with what happens "to us", I get that.  I felt that same way after 9-11. I was there and I felt that initial kick in the gut.  I still have a copy of the Village Voice's front page from the day after with a picture of the Twin Towers on fire & the simple headline "The Bastards!" And yet, I thought how arrogant it was that we responded with such outrage considering that daily life in many other places was full of unexpected tragedy at every turn of the corner.  But, I also understood - it had never happened to us.  We were "sheltered" - much like many of our children are.  *These things* simply don't happen to the USA.  But they did (and had) - both from outside forces and internal (OK City bombing? The other attack on the World Trade Center?).  Just nothing had happened before on such a huge scale where so many lives were lost and affected.  Of course there was going to be shock and outrage just as there was shock and outrage over Aurora ... and Sandy Hook... and Columbine.  And Boston.

Whenever something confounds our understanding we look for answers ... and we look for comfort. For some, they work through those feelings by "doing" and that is welcomed and necessary.  For many others, prayer *is* a way of "doing", and it also provides comfort simply because we "let go and let God".  It's a way to reach out to those we want to help when we can't physically "reach out" and comfort them (or ourselves).  How that is a bad thing - I don't know.  It harms no one.  If you don't believe, don't pray - but please don't shame those of us who do.

loveTOOmuch

On March 22, 2013 my nephew - Connor - fell into a firepit in his backyard.  A freak accident that included a bed of coals, a misstep, lost balance, and a fall.  The result was that he suffered third degree burns on his right arm and hip (roughly 10% of his body surface) and a few second degree burns as well.  This kid is simply amazing.  He's gritted through pain, maintained his "go hard or go home" attitude, and remains the sweet boy we all know him to be.  But that's not what this post is about ... it's just the prelude.

One night, after a rather tough day, Connor and his dad (my brother) were saying their prayers.  Afterward, my brother noticed that Connor was crying a little bit.  He asked him "what's wrong bud?"  Connor replied "nothing, I just love you too much."  Here was this little boy, lying in a hospital bed after enduring pain more intense than many of us will ever experience ... and he's thinking about his Dad.  His dad signed off on that post with "loveTOOmuch" which started me pondering.  Can we ever love too much?

I know that there are cases where love can be warped into something ugly and in those cases I am sure it *is* possible to "love" too much.  But that isn't really love.  It's obsession.  It's possibly co-dependence.  It's ... well it's something other than pure love.  The kind of love a son has for his father and family and for others.

It reminds me of when Connor was younger ... possibly 4 or 5 years old.  I had just started getting involved with dog rescue and found myself bringing home a scruffy looking white dog named Barney.  That story has been told about how Barney came to live with my mom, but the reason he stayed is indirectly related to Connor.  Mom used the excuse that "the kids" (Connor and his younger sister Kendall) would enjoy having a dog at her house to play with when they came to visit.  I knew that secretly she had fallen in love with Barney like every other person who met him did.  So Barney stayed and became Mom's first rescue dog.

Not long after that I found myself in a situation where my two dogs were in quarantine for 10 days and my house felt too empty and quiet.  I decided to foster two dogs and naively believed I could find them both homes before my two got out of "the joint."  One found a home, but the other didn't.  I asked Mom if Dot could stay with her while I looked for a forever home for her.  She agreed (albeit a bit reluctantly).  Connor came to stay with her that weekend.  He asked why Nee-Nee had Dot.  I told him because I had rescued her from an animal shelter and I was looking for a new home for her.  Connor asked why Dot was in a shelter.  I told him that I wasn't sure but probably because she didn't have a good home where people loved her and took care of her.  He asked why she couldn't stay at the shelter (I could sense that this line of questioning was going down a not-so-happy-path at that moment).  I told him that shelters don't always have enough room for all of the animals that people don't want anymore.  I could see the look on his face as he tried to process why someone wouldn't want their dog anymore.  Then he asked what happens to the dogs that don't get rescued.  Oh boy.  Connor is the kind of kid you can't placate.  You have to play it straight with him.  So I told him that sometimes shelters have to put really sick dogs, or dogs who are hurt badly to sleep.  That they give them a shot that makes them fall asleep and not hurt anymore and sometimes they have to do that when that don't have enough room.  He simply said "oh."  That is Connor.  He asks, you answer, he says "oh" and then he ponders.  He didn't say anymore after that.

The next day, Mom couldn't find Connor.  She looked around the house and finally found him under the bed in the spare room .... sobbing and with Dot.  She finally coaxed him out and begged him to tell her what was wrong.  He hiccuped his way through saying "Nee-Nee, I just LOVE Dot!  Why would someone want to kill her?"  She explained that noone wanted to kill Dot.  That Ti-Ti (that's me) had rescued Dot out of the shelter so that wouldn't happen to her and to make room for another dog so they would stay alive too.  And then she called me and told me that Dot would be staying.  So, Mom's second rescue dog - Dot - has Connor and his big heart to thank for her home today.

Most recently, Connor's compassion showed up again as he passed the room of his neighbor in ICU and teared up a bit.  Who knows what was going through his mind, but I know there was empathy in his heart.  That's love too.

Connor is a rough and tumble kid.  He plays every sport he can.  He rides a dirt bike (or his motorcycle as he prefers to call it).  He's all boy.  And he also has a sweet and kind spirit.  He's compassionate.  He's kind.  He's a thinker.  He's just a neat kid.  And he's been an inspiration during this current ordeal.  Here is a kid that has TOO much love.  I wanted a way to visually represent that phrase and to find a way for all of the people who have shown him such support to show they are on Team Connor and rooting for him.  So of course I decided there needed to be a shirt for that. :)

I found a site called CustomInk.com and when going through their artwork, one just jumped out at me.  When your love (that you have and that's given too you) gets to be TOO much ... you pass it on.  You share that love with those who might not have enough.  Maybe it's a person.  Maybe it's a rescue dog.  Maybe it's a friend ... or a stranger.  The point is that if you have TOO much, you give some of that extra away - pass it on.  If each of us gave a little of our TOO much love I think the world would be a much better place.

So I picked this image to represent that:

Then I used words that I associate with Connor and with the word "love" and designed this:

And in that blank space ... the following floats over it all.

I'm proud of the overall result, not because I made it, but because I think it's a good visual of what my nephew has inspired me to do.

loveTOOmuch

PS - if you want to follow Connor's progress, go to http://on.fb.me/WTtZsK

Life Under the Influence

Ever have a day when you're driving down the road, or sitting at your desk, or doing laundry and suddenly there is a flash of insight across your mind?  A brief moment of such clarity it makes you catch your breath.  I had one of those a couple of weeks ago.  For a while now it has felt like my life is in a perpetual "tea-cup ride" state. [I completely borrowed that from "Uptown Girls" but I think that movie may have triggered the clarity.  Don't ask.]

I never liked the tea-cup ride.  It makes me sick.  Give me the biggest roller coaster or a free-fall ride any day, but something that spins and spins and spins and spins .... *urp* (I'm sure there is a metaphor of my life in that sentence somewhere).  So how have I missed that for the majority of my life I've been spinning.  Maybe I'm at the center of it and just don't feel it.  Or I've learned to keep my balance by not venturing out of the comfort zone.  I've stepped outside of it from time to time and when I do I get flung ... other times launched.  Moving to New York, that was  a launch - and a very good thing.  Possibly the best decision I have ever made and I believe that is because it was *my* choice.  It was what *I* wanted and not what someone else wanted for me.

Maybe at 43 my inner-vision is becoming sharper (while my "outer" vision is still a little out of focus).  For the majority of my life, I've been living under the influence of what others wanted for (or of) me.  I'm not saying that this is a bad thing - my parents wanted me to have the best options/things/opportunities  - and in many ways those influences have been positive and helped shape me into the person I am today.  But I've let outside influences shape, bend, break, direct me for far too long.

Back in high school, I listened in on classmates eagerly discussing college majors, plans for the future - you know - that whole "what do you want to be when you grow up" discussion.  My problem was that I didn't know the answer to that... and still don't if I am honest with myself.  The whole concept of college baffled me.  My mom loved being an educator and was *sure* that I would be an amazing teacher.  My aunts reminded me regularly that when they were in college they only had the option of being a teacher or a nurse, that there were so many more opportunities for me and I shouldn't settle for being *just* a teacher.    I *should* be a vet.  I *should* be dentist.  I *should* be a lawyer.  And I felt guilty for not setting the bar at some lofty level regardless of it was what I wanted or not.  And the spinning began.  So many opportunities.  So many options.  So many "what if's".  It was too much.

College - all eight years of it - was ... well it was. I was all over the place and my transcripts reflect that.  I hated going to class because professors read out of the book, or straight from class notes that were purchased at the local "Notes N Quotes."  There was no engagement in the classroom, yet a percentage of the grade was based on attendance.  Why should I be there if I can read it on my own, take the test and pass?  I was bored.  So I skipped. And skipped.  And withdrew.  And hid.  And hit rock bottom.  There was a two-year funk in there somewhere (and that's a story for another time) that almost derailed me.  Thanks to pretty amazing parents, good friends, and an academic advisor/drill sergeant I earned a degree.  Looking back now I realize that the boredom didn't stem from the classes themselves.  I was bored because I was pursuing someone else's vision of what I *should* be.  It wasn't my passion, my vision, my dream so I quickly lost interest after the initial rush of novelty wore off.

When I was given a "do or die" option to get back into TAMU, I grabbed it.  I followed the plan set out for me the first semester and then came the dreaded question - "what are you going to choose for your major?"  Well, hell - I couldn't figure that out before, how am I going to do it now?  I sat down with a pen, paper and the course catalog (yes, it was that long ago that we still used archaic things like pens, paper and an actual book).  I made a list of things I enjoyed, things I thought I was good at (grammar obviously not top of the list), and my interests.  Then I went through the course catalog and read through all of the options to find the one that was the best fit... and landed on Recreation, Park, and Tourism Sciences (RPTS).  Many liked to call it the "Romp and Play" or "Run and Play" degree.  I didn't care - it was a good fit and I had a set goal and strict focus.  I look at my transcript now and I can see that shift in focus reflected in my grades.  I took 21 hours my last semester in school and had the highest GPA of my cumulative collegiate career.  I was so excited to be studying what appealed to me, what fit my vision, what was a good fit for me ... and then I graduated.

I spent two amazing summers in North Carolina working at a summer camp.  If I knew there were full-time/year-round jobs in "camps" back then, I would have been in heaven.  But again, I let other opinions influence me.  "Camps" weren't a real job.  I needed a "real" job.  Through a friend, I landed a "real" job and I will be forever thankful as that led to other amazing opportunities - namely the move to NYC.  However, that job was in IT (aka computer training/helpdesk/etc).  I enjoyed it for a long time.  It took me to some wonderful places and provided me the opportunity to meet some amazing people, but it wasn't what *I* wanted.  Of course, I still wasn't sure of what *I* wanted.  So many opportunities, so many things I wanted to try - all of them spinning past me and out of focus.

So here I am, still spinning. I've spent over 10 years in a profession that is "a job".  The initial interest has long worn off.  I've had few relationships - and am still single (and we're not going to delve into that whole mess in today's post) and still spinning around looking for "the one."   I'm contemplating going back to school, but once again I'm fighting what others think I *should* do and what I want to do.  It would really help if I could definitively say *what* it is that I want to do.  I have a pretty good grasp of it at this point, but sadly there isn't a graduate program at TAMU offering what I want.  The last thing I want to do is find something that "will do for now" and then fall into old habits of abandoning it because I lose interest.  There are many things I find interesting, that I would genuinely like to study and learn, but those aren't my passion - they won't hold my interest long-term.  And at this point in my life, if I'm going to invest in my personal growth, I want to grow what *I* want and not what others say I *should * want.  There's time for those other things later.  Right now - it's my turn. It's time for me to be the major influence on my own life.  And it's time to stop the spinning... or at least slow it down. 

Next time we'll be learning about my other "addictions" that contribute to this Life Under the Influence. :)  Until then, I hope your own tea-cup ride of Life slows a bit for you to regain balance.