And So It Goes

For the love of God... 
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November 3, 2001, I'm standing high atop Ben Hill Griffin Stadium watching my Florida Gators beat the pants off Vandy. It's late in the third quarter and most of the crowd, comfortable with the home team's untouchable lead, has wandered out to properly celebrate yet another Gator victory. I, however, cannot take my eyes off the field. More specifically, I can't take my eyes off Vandy's #24 and the most beautiful head of curly hair I had seen to date. Even from the top of the stadium I could follow every move that hair made. Slumping over the bench, humiliated, running onto the field, determined, returning to the sidelines, defeated. It was blond and beautiful and I had to have it. Late in the 4th, my friend Ashley and I made our way down to the first row, leaned over the edge and screamed his number. After a few cries, he heard, looked back and gave us the most disgusted look I've ever seen. Maybe he thought we were taunting, maybe he was embarassed by his less than stellar performance. Despite the excuse, though, he was rude and his hair was about the only feature he had going for him. The attitude was a joke, the face was a mess, but I walked out of the stadium that night knowing I would never forget that hair.

September 24, 2004, I'm laying in bed, watching re-runs of the Real World in Philadelphia. As the cast is being introduced, a familiar mess of blond and curls flashes onto the screen. It takes a moment for the facts to sink in, for ends to meet, for the thought to click. MTV's MJ, the hard body lady killer with a heart of gold, is the one and only #24. For a moment I'm back in that stadium, back on that ledge. Same old face, same old attitude, same unforgettable hair. Only now, that once free flowing and wild tangle of curly locks has been chopped off and matted down with product. It was like running into your high school crush years after graduation and finding out that he's fat and bald and sells timeshares over the phone. I was so disappointed, I could have cried.
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Well, looks like New York is a bust. For now, at least. I've allowed myself a week to hope, to hold my breath, to dream big. That week having past, it's now time to get a grip, move on, and try again.
I have decided that with or without a job, I will be moving sometime in the next few months. Where, I'm not exactly sure. I've made a list of possibilities-some realistic, some not so much. There is nothing left for me here, just a lot of hurt and rejection and missed opportunities. I am ready to reinvent myself, to start over from the beginning and make something of my life. I have a lot of thinking to do over the next few weeks, a lot of researching and soul searching. But right now, I'm at a complete loss as to what to do and where to go. So, here's the list, in no particular order, let me know what you think.

New York
San Francisco
Philadelphia
Denver
Nashville
Charlotte
Atlanta
Jacksonville

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It's been over 24 hours since I sent off my resume and I've got nothing. No emails, no phone calls, nothing. A little depressing but not so much as out and out rejection. I am trying my hardest not to jump to conclusions, but me being me I've already run through every possible outcome, twice. I've cried in the shower, pleading with God to let this happen only moments after pricing new furniture and finding plane tickets home for the holidays.
They say insanity is repeating the same action time and again expecting different results. Should that be true, mark me down as certifiable. This manic-depressive approach to job hunting has been my trademark. I've been in this place so many times before, frustrated by the silence while building up the outcome until, ultimately, it becomes painfully obvious that the answer is NO.
I'm not quite ready to accept that yet. I want this job, I love this job, but most importantly, I CAN DO THIS JOB. I can kick this job's ass. So keep it up with the praying, and the crossing of the fingers, and the sending of the vibes. I won't go down without a fight.
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“There are all different ways you can tell that there's someone really there watching out for us. You see signs. Sometimes they're little ones. You think of someone. The phone rings. They're on the phone... Sometimes they're big, like fourteen lights hovering over Mexico City. What you have to decide is what kind of person you are? Are you the type who believes in miracles and looks for signs or are you the kind who believes, things just happen by chance?” ~M. Night Shyamalan,Signs

Friday night I sat at home, steeped in misery and spending yet another evening on the sofa in the living room of my parents home (pathetic, I know). Tom Brokaw was chronicling the tragic story of Aron Ralston, the dashing young adventurer who cut off his arm to save his life. He was somewhat attractive and ridiculously rugged, so I did what any woman in my position would do, I googled him. In the midst of my search, I stumbled across a job opening. A great job, a perfect job, a job I have possibly spent my life preparing for. I took the weekend to get my stuff together, to rewrite my cover letter, to adjust my resume, to research cost of living and the feasibility of relocation. By Sunday night, I was ready; but, not wanting to seem unprofessional, I decided to wait until early the next morning to send everything. This could have been a problem. As my joblessness ensues, my chronic insomnia is settling back in and mornings rarely start before 11. Last night, sleep came easliy and this morning, amidst dreams of big cities and apartment hunting, I was awoken by Katie Couric introducing her next guest. Aron Ralston was sitting across from her. It was 8:30 am. I took this as a sign.
I would never have woken that early on my own, despite the fact that I had wanted to send my application by 9. Ralston was the reason I found the job, and then, because of him, I wake up early when I never would have otherwise. Little things...leaving the tv on NBC the night before, waking up at precisely the time he came on the screen. I have to believe this isn't just coincidence. I need to know that miracles are out there.
So, cross your fingers, say a prayer, send some good vibes out into the final frontier. I really don't think we're alone in this world, but I'd rather not take any chances.
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Take time today to hug someone, to smile at a stranger, to say I love you. Thank God today for the good moments and the bad. Find a moment today to reflect on what we have overcome. But, most importantly, LIVE today. Fight for goodness and light. We owe it those who can no longer struggle.
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Well, the winds have stopped, the rain is long gone and the pile of yard debris sits rotting at the curb. People all over town are still picking up shingles and siding and dragging downed trees to the chipper. Frances was a bitch, to say the least.
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We're smack in the middle of Hurricane Frances, a little windswept but amazingly still standing and with power to boot. The heavy wind and rains moved in around 10 last night and have only gotten worse as the storm has almost stalled on top of us. My house is surrounded by dozens of enormous oak trees, towers of branches and leaves and spanish moss. They dance and bend in the tremendous amount of wind but are standing firm, branches intact and dumping only moderate amounts of debris. The rain is coming down in sheets that go wherever the wind does. Cabin fever set in hours ago and is only getting worse as the prospect of leaving the house stretches out into tomorrow afternoon. Alot of storm left to go, I'll see you on the other side.
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Hurricane Frances 
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The news stations around here can hardly believe their luck. Two major hurricanes in the span of a month. I think a few of the weathermen may have actually pissed their pants with excitemnt. Channel after channel with all day newscasts, replaying the same stories every other hour and not providing any real news except when the NWS provides new storm tracking information. They have, however, managed to work people into quite a frenzy. Neighbors have boarded their windows and Target was a madhouse of people stocking up on bottled water, batteries, and buy one get one bags of Cheetos. I have taken no precautions and have only a healthy store of DVD's and Diet Dr. Pepper. Here's hoping the power doesn't go out.

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