Where Is That Girl?

I had an awesome lunch-time chat with my friend and co-worker Barb today. I was babbling on and on about how great it was to get caught up with old friends on Facebook, especially my friends from Camp Spearhead. We also discussed our jobs, my search for a church, new opportunities, etc.

Toward the end of the conversation, she smiled and said, “You know, Mel, I think, you need to find something to do that you are THAT passionate about.”

She was referring to how excited and passionate I am when I talk about Camp Spearhead. You see, I can’t help but grin or laugh when I am recounting the many familiar faces from camp. Barb’s comment got me thinking...where’s that girl and how do I get her back?

Where is the girl who used to jump up every Saturday morning and run to catch the bus for the Spearhead Extension? I could have had an exhausting week of classes and exams, but it didn’t matter. If there was a weekend extension planned, I was there. I miss that diligence, focus and purpose.

Where is the girl who used to ride every hayride and sing loudly along on every camp song chorus? I miss the enthusiasm with which I tackled things. I miss the girl who didn't care who was watching or listening...she had no problem being silly if the occasion called for it!

Where is the girl who made it a point to know each and every campers name? I miss that never-met-a-stranger ideal. I would introduce myself to all those new to me and try to come up with ways to remember their names all week. I know how important it is to have someone remember your name, especially when you are new or in a strange place.

Where is the girl who used to take photos non-stop and made a real effort to capture all the memories? I miss that energy. I would run around snapping pictures with Michael Brooks following me the whole time yelling, “Come back here, Mel. You don’t need to take no more pictures!”

Where is that passion, that fire that I had back then? Few things excite me now like they did back then.

I don’t think it’s just age or maturity that has robbed me of these things I am missing. I think somewhere along the way, I let go of joy! [GASP!] I stopped delighting in the little things, in the moments that make up the day-to-day adventure we call life. I suddenly needed more to get excited about. It wasn’t enough to be amused by a mere detail or a funny encounter.

I grew up, and I thought that part of that process was moving on to bigger and better things to bring me happiness. I couldn’t just be content with the status quo any more. Like a kid that feels gypped at getting socks and underwear for Christmas, I wanted the big list items. After all, others were getting them--why couldn’t I? I wanted the diamond ring and the man on my arm to go with the sparkle. I wanted the 2.5 kids, the fluffy black dog, and the house with a view. I wanted the corporate job with the good pay and potential for growth.

I thought that was what I needed. I thought that those things were what I was missing from my life. And when I didn’t get all of those things, I would just get more and more determined to make it happen, and I’d get more and more miserable at the current state of affairs. It's not wrong to pursue another course or to follow your dreams, but when you seek them with the idea that those things -- those bigger and better gift items -- are all you need to attain happiness, you are bound to be dissatisfied.

Turns out that those things weren't a need or a must-have, and to go after them, I had chucked something far more precious in the wake. I'd set aside joy. I forgot to revel in the bliss and delights of being alive. I forgot how to enjoy the hayride, so to speak, how to let my hair down and be free and just savor the moment...like I did back then.

Now, I’m sure Barb has no idea that her comment to me would strike such a chord and cause me to ponder life as it has to this extreme, but here I am. And today I’m reclaiming THAT girl. She's still here. She never really went far. She just hid away for a while. She's a bit weather-beaten and shell-shocked, but she she's got joy in hand...

And I'm not letting go this time.

Time Has a Way of Getting Away From Us

I’ve been taking apart some old photo albums recently. It’s time to dismantle the magnetic albums, get the pictures scanned, and then put the photos into a REAL PVC-free scrapbook for safe-keeping. I’ve been meaning to do this for a while now, but after reconnecting with several of my cohorts from Camp Spearhead, I decided to do it now rather than later. I thought the gang would enjoy the trip down memory lane, too, and I hope they really do.

Just looking back at old photos makes me giggle.

What was I thinking with that short haircut? It was an awful look even in my sorted and amusing arsenal of bad hairstyles.

Why did I wear white socks with that outfit? So tacky!

And where did I get those colossal Elton John glasses? They practically cover my whole face!

Then comes the sighing, reminiscing and trying to remember the names to put with those faces in the photographs.

Whatever happened to Clay, Mary, Tamra, Ben, BJ, Andy, Mike, Grant, Frankie, Rebecca, Chriss, Matt G., Matt L., Brandi, Deb, Tricia, Corey, Lanae, Darnell, Janelle and Moldy?

Is Emma and the fam still in Savannah? I need to call her.

Where is Shawn Vile? I remember getting a wedding invitation from him a few years back, but I haven’t heard from him since.

I remember taking that photo. We were trying to see how many people we could get into that phone book at Carowinds. Hilarious!

HA! This was the time BJ followed through on his threat to Bobbie Jo. He told her that if she didn’t leave he and Jamie alone, he was going to--- NAH! You just have to see the picture to understand.

What was this guy’s name again and wasn’t he dating another counselor that summer? Yeah! They were into pythons, I think.

Then comes a short wave of sadness.

I should have kept in touch with people more. [sigh!] I didn’t completely drop off the radar or anything, but I didn’t stay connected with too many of these familiar faces either. Time has a way of making us let go, and I think it’s healthy really. Most people come in and out of our lives for a season or two, and if we stayed as connected to each and every one of them, we’d never get anything else done! So the distance settles in for a while, we meet new friends and time passes…and then one day, we get reconnected on facebook, and the cycle starts up again.

Yes, I do miss those hot, sunny days at Camp Spearhead. I miss waking up and finding a camper standing over me in the middle of the night, I miss the laughter and daily camp routine, but most of all, I miss the people (both the campers and counselors alike) that I was privileged to know and spend time with. Those were good times, but my life now isn’t bad either.

A Long Hot Summer

I rewatched the original A Long Hot Summer with Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward this weekend. I've seen the movie several times, but this time I was captivated by this conversation between the 2 main characters...

Clara Varner: Mr. Quick, I am a human being. Do you know that means? It means I set a high price on my self--a high, high price. You may be surprised to know it, but I’ve got quite a lot to give. I’ve got things I have been saving up my whole life--like love and understanding and...and jokes and good times and good cooking. I’m prepared to be the Queen of Sheba for some lucky man or at the very least, the best wife that any man could hope for. Now that’s my human history ,and it’s not gonna be bought and sold, and it’s certainly not going to be given away to any passing stranger.

Ben Quick: All right then run, lady, and you keep on running. Buy yourself a bus ticket and disappear. Change your name, dye your hair--get lost! And then maybe, just maybe you’re gonna be safe from me.

It made me think again...which can be dangerous in the life of Melanie. But this time there were no tears, no drama, no ranting and raving about how it sucks to be single. This time I just smiled to myself and said aloud: I've got a lot to give, too. Now somebody is missing out. I just don't know who.

I Still Believe in "Baloney," I Guess...

Today I was asked what my plans were for this weekend. I proceeded to talk about watching my youngest niece and nephew on Saturday while their parents and older brother went over to the Creation Museum in Ohio for the day.

Immediately, I got a very strong reaction: What? Your sister still believes in that baloney?

Yes, she does, I said. And so do I.

Now maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised at how readily creation is being dismissed today as less than a theory, but I confess that I still am. Call me naïve, a simpleton or what you will, but I think there is strong evidence that all life was created and didn’t happen by accident, chance or a collision of atoms.

I work with scientists, primarily chemists and biologists, and so maybe that is why I encounter so many “Christians” that don’t believe in creation and won’t even allow the idea of intelligent design to be discussed as a scientific theory for the explanation of life as we know it. These are devout members of their faith or prominent leaders in their church communities, and yet, they no longer believe in Genesis 1. They discard it completely because it is based on a religious or supernatural foundation and not what they would term as "science."

It is sad. These brilliant minds that HE blessed with intelligence won’t give their CREATOR any due, any praise for HIS handiwork. They would prefer to believe in happenstance, in a coincidental theory hinging on what else but faith. After all, it also takes faith (a firm belief in something for which there is no proof) to believe that two tiny miniscule specks bumped into one another in the darkness and from there began of chain of events over billions and billions of years that led to one of the most complex structures known today, DNA. Scientists are still uncovering new things about our bodies and the world we live in.

I’m not an expert or a scientist, by any stretch of the imagination, and I don’t pretend to have all the answers or the ability to debate creation vs. evolution with a scholar. But I can’t ignore the fact that I see my CREATOR’S work everywhere: in gravity, the human eye, new growth in a forest after a fire, strange underwater creatures like jellyfish and squid, a newborn baby, and yes, even in the silky strands of my mortal enemy (the spider).

There is an amazing source of creativity revealing HIMSELF in the world all around us. There is too much beauty, too much inspired brilliance to have all just happened by chance, by accident. I choose to believe in the intelligent design of my GOD. HE said HE did it, and I choose to believe it.

Am I a Freak?

Hmmmm...maybe you better not answer that.

My co-workers have been making fun of me (BIG shocker, I know). It has to do with me and my obsession with getting stickers or other sticky residue off of EVERYTHING. I don’t like sticky residue. For example, I don’t like tags or stickers left on things you purchase, or when you open a Christmas or birthday gift and someone has only peeled off half of the sticky tag on the bottom. UGH! So, I guess now everyone knows how to annoy me...don't do it!

OK. So maybe I am a freak, but I’m a freak who loves Goo Gone. It’s awesome stuff! Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. That stuff works like a charm on my DVD and CD cases and things like that. I use it regularly.

This has been a FREE advertisement from an ultra consumer of the said product (Goo Gone), which is a commonly used cleaning solution to help you remove sticky residue from many household surfaces. The editor and creator of ths blog does not offer any guarantees, refunds or other reimbursement measures regarding the use or safety of this product. However, the same editor would caution you against the abuse of sniffing household cleaners like the said product for lengthy periods of time. Always put the cap back on the bottle promptly after each use. Thank you.

What Did We Do Before Facebook?

I can't remember. I love catching up with people and reconnecting with old friends and family members. I'm out on myspace, too, but I just don't like it as well. I like the way that facebook lets you glance at a person's life and interact as much as you want. I can comment on what they are up to or just observe, but at least I'm out there again...talking to people, making connections, finding out more about other peoples' lives and struggles rather than focusing only on my self.

"No man is an island, entire of itself..." John Donne wrote. By disconnecting from the community, I am affecting the whole. Not that I am so important, but each one of us is significant. Each of us has a role to play, an act to fulfill.

OK, this has gotten far too analytical and serious, and I'm not thinking straight due to the migraine meds. Suffice it to say, I'm blessed to have the connections, the acquaintances, the people in my life that I do. Thank you.

Diet Girl Learns to Survive Without Chicken Fingers

I love crispy fried chicken fingers. We're not talking McDonald's chicken nuggets here. We're talking batter-dipped, deep-fried, delicious morsels of "chickeny goodness" here like O'Charleys. I'm the girl that always knows what she's going to order. I don't always order chicken fingers, but I have had them quite often. There can be 30 other fish or steak items on the menu, and I'll go for the fried chicken fingers nearly every time. Well, that is until April 1st when my sister Barbara and I went on Weight Watchers, and since then, I've been avoiding the chicken fingers.

Then along comes my vacation in North Carolina. I endured several meals with my family with my cruel niece (love ya, Janet!) ordering chicken fingers for just about every eating out venue. I would watch in agony as she enjoyed her tasty meal, while I tried to swallow another salad.

Finally on our last night in NC, I broke down and ordered the fried chicken fingers from a steakhouse as we celebrated one last evening with Janet in her new city. I anxiously awaited the delivery of the said delicacy to our table. At last they arrived, and I inhaled 4 of the 6 mighty chicken fingers and enjoyed my baked potato with sour cream, too. I had the flex points to burn, and it all tasted so good, but I stopped when I was full and that was that.

However, I was up twice later that night with an upset stomach. For some reason Diet Girl just can't eat like that any more. No longer is my digestive system a toxic dump and able to handle deposits of fat-coated food. [Sorry that is a bit graphic!] I guess it kinda makes me reflect on my years of eating abuse. No, I was never bulemic or anorexic, but I ate far too much of the foods that were just awful on my body. And now that I've been eating better--gulping down fruits and vegetables more readily than donuts, ice cream and chicken fingers--my body isn't ready for those fatty foods. It says, "I think you can do better."

Gone are the days where I would visit Taco Bell three nights in a row for a chalupa, two hard tacos and a chili cheese burrito along with Mountain Dew to wash it all down. Sure, some days I miss just being able to order whatever I want, whenever I want it...but somehow, I think this healthier direction is a better path, and keeping track of what I am eating on a daily basis is a big help, too. When you are keeping track of every bite you put into your mouth, suddenly you want to make the most of every bite. Will this piece of candy fill me up? It's 3 points, and it will be gone in like 10 seconds, and I'll still be just as hungry. So, maybe I'll just have an apple instead or a 1/2 cup of grapes.

I realize that I am playing a mind-game with myself here. But I do think that Diet Girl can survive without chicken fingers. [SIGH!] It might be hard to resist some days, but in the end, I think me and my body will get along better without them, the donuts and the gallons of ice cream.

OK, so maybe a little indulgence won't kill me, but it can't become a regular habit...

AHEM!!!

I just realized that I have posted more than 200 times on my blog now, and I didn't even celebrate, throw myself a party, buy myself flowers or eat chocolate. How sad is that! I spaced it. I'm disappointed in myself...Oh well! I'm over it.

Happy Belated 200+ Postings!

I'd like to thank my friends, family members, crazy people I've run into, my apartment leasing and maintenance staff, my co-workers, fellow singletons, and created beings other than humans (insects, spiders, birds, etc.). Thank you for inspiring me to blog! I'd especially like to thank GOD for creating this wonderful gift we call life and to WHOM I owe my everything. Thanks for the gift of language!

And to my readers, I'd like to humbly say: Thanks for listening!

This is Melanie (aka Mel) signing off for a few hours.
Peace.
Out.

Upon Arriving Home After My Vacation...

Two very interesting occurrences happened within minutes of my arrival back to my apartment after more than a week's absence...

1. I found a very dead spider just inside my apartment. This led to some great intrigue. Yes, I do believe that the only good spider is a dead spider, but why did he have to die in my apartment? Couldn't he have died just as easily elsewhere? How did he die? I wasn't about to conduct an autopsy. I just flushed his remains and tried to think happy thoughts. But it did occur to me that perhaps there is a large tarantula-like spider living under my couch. And while I'd like to think that the spider merely starved to death because I keep such a tidy space and that there are no insects or other creatures that the arachnid could feed off, I know better because of occurrence number 2 below.

2. I found a very-much-alive large cricket in the dining room. They're back!! Yes, I like to live in the fantasy world where the first cricket I found a month ago or so was merely a lost cricket that had mistakenly meandered into my place because he didn't stop to ask for directions. However, that does not appear to be the case. Two cricket sightings in a month is not quite an infestation (like last year's battle), but it is still cause for concern. I have called the maintenance office, and the pesticide company is coming out for a visit next Monday.

I can still hear the pest guy from last year... “Ma'am, I think they are just getting in underneath your door.”

Me/aka Ma'am: “That's an interesting theory, but don't you think I'd notice 49 crickets hopping in under my door?”

I'm Back...

I am back in the office today after my week with my brother Steve and his family in North Carolina. We drove down in a SUV and a Uhaul truck to take my oldest niece Janet to her new college hometown. She starts at NTI [Nascar Technical Institute] at the end of August, and so she wanted to go down early, get into her new apartment and find a job before school starts. I'm so proud of her. I don't know that I could have lived on my own at 18. A college dorm room with 3 other girls was rough enough...thank you very much. But Janet is brave and she'll handle it fine once she gets adjusted.

She is still looking for a job, and once she gets working and gets more familiar with the area, she will really enjoy NC. I know I do. I love the Carolinas...I'm more partial to Asheville myself, but Mooresville is pretty nice, too. Hey, Janet, I'll have to come for a visit and take you to the Biltmore Estate. You'd love it there, I think. And hey, you'll have to pick out your own guest room for when I live there...HA!

It was a pretty good week of a mix between work and fun as we cleaned and got her apartment all in order and did some running around in the area. She has a cute place, a nice pool and an awesome leasing agent and maintenance man.

We toured the Hendricks' Motorsports Museum (Jeff Gordon, Dale Earnhardt Jr., etc.). It was interesting (that was my word of the week). I'm just not a racing fan yet, but I am growing to appreciate it for the skill and endurance the sport takes. I might not think the Lowe's Speedway in Charlotte is "pretty" because to me it is NOT art, but I did think it was well-taken care of and situated nicely.

There are lots of Nascar teams that are located in Mooresville and the surrounding area, and so Janet just might run into her favorite Kasey Kahne out there at a Starbucks or Target, etc. You never know. Or you might run into Kahle or is it Kelp?? [That's an inside joke!] Now me, I could run right into a whole group of drivers, and I wouldn't know it, but that's just me. I don't know the sport or the drivers, etc. I'm oblivious to this stuff, but I'm excited for other people.

I Can't Give Directions...

Sunday afternoon at the IMA, I was volunteering at the information desk alone. My co-hort and volunteer supervisor, Philomena, was off at a reunion for the weekend, and so I was there manning (or womanning) the desk on my own. Ordinarily I don't mind that. I like answering people's questions, directing them to a specific piece they are looking for, telling them where to catch the closest elevator or restroom, etc. THAT I dont' mind, but I got a couple of the phone calls I dread during my shift on Sunday--calls from people wanting specific directions to the IMA.

I tried my best. I have a cheat sheet to work from, but both of these people still sounded confused after I read them the written directions word-for-word. They started telling me exactly where they were and then expected me to give them turn-by-turn directions to my location...well, that just wasn't going to happen. I knew that I'd get them even more lost, and that would be a disaster.

I'm a landmark girl. You know the type. My directions are all about buildings, trees, parks, etc. I'm known for telling people to turn at the blue mailbox or look for the McDonalds and then turn left 3 streets after that. I'm not usually very good with street names or knowing where one street starts going by another name, etc. Why do they do that to city streets anyway? I mean Michigan should be Michigan all the way through the city and not turn into Martin Luther King Jr. and then West Street (or is it the other way around?). And while I am on this rant, why does Indy have to have both a Michigan Road and a Michigan Street anyway? Whose brilliant idea was that one? I mean, Michigan is my home state, and I love it, but couldn't they have come up with another name instead of naming both streets the same? Where is the creativity there? And why did they name 2 streets the same name if they aren't all that far from each other either?

So anyway, back to the phone calls, when these unsuspecting people call in and want directions from I-74 or Greenwood, I am at a loss. I'm a Westside girl. I know downtown (mostly central and the westside of downtown). You get me too far East (past Mass Ave.), and I'm usually a bit sketchy at finding a location. Don't forget, I'm a smalltown girl living on the fringe of the city's limits here. If you will recall, I live near Brownsburg and Clermont so that I can drive through farmland and escape from the hustle and bustle of 465. I'm the girl who still likes to figure out 30 back ways to get from point A to point B, but that doesn't mean that I always know which road I am on or could find my location on a map. I like to explore and be adventurous, but that doesn't mean that I always know where I am.

Well, I certainly hope those poor people found their way to the IMA on Sunday. I did my best, but I'm hoping they didn't end up in Lafayette or Terre Haute because of my directions. HA!

Apartment Update

CRICKETS 2008: I haven't spotted any more. I realize that I just jinxed myself and that I will inevitably have 30 crickets hopping madly all over my stuff when I get home tonight now that I have typed this all out in black and white, but this weekend and yesterday went really well. No more cricket sightings to relate at the present!

CRICKETS 2007: I just realized that I never informed my avid readers and concerned fellow citizens about the outcome of last year's summer of terror with the 2007 invaders. The final tally of crickets was 45 to 4. As in, I killed 45 in my apartment but 4 wily crickets escaped my cunning attempts to send them into the next life. Please don't report me to the SCF [Save the Crickets Foundation]. I personally don't wish crickets ill, but when they come into my apartment uninvited and attempt to kill me by giving me a heart attack or extreme anxiety, I have to put my foot down. For the record, I have never invited a cricket or other insect, beetle, spider or bug into my apartment, and so unless there is a bed & breakfast website with my home listed as a haven for these species, these critters are quite clearly trespassing and have to go!

BIRDS 2008: The nest and parents-to-be are still residents in my carport. I believe the eggs must be getting close to hatching any day now. Mrs. Bird doesn't leave her nest much anymore, although she still gives me the evil eye every time I approach. Yes, birds can give you the evil eye. Trust me. Haven't you seen the Hitchcock classic, The Birds? And as for Mr. Bird, he still swoops down from his perch and dives down at me a bit, but it has been happening less and less, which I think is a good sign. I do hope they are not expecting some type of gift for the newborns. I mean, my Christmases are already too expensive what with the 9 nieces and nephews and all. YIKES!

HOUSE HUNT: OK, so I know that everyone keeps telling me that I need to buy a house and stop throwing my money away on rent. I get the point, I do. It is just not on the top of my priority list yet. It's not that I am afraid of committment. I've been in this committed relationship with the same apartment for 7 years. I'm a very loyal person. [Seeing that in writing seems rather depressing...7 years in the same apartment? Really??] Anyway, I'm just not ready to jump into home ownership yet. I don't know if that makes me wired differently from everyone else or what, but I like the idea that I can just pack up and move any day. You know, if I suddenly need to move to Asheville to run the Biltmore Estate or something like that, I only have a lease to cancel, and I am so on my way. So, we all know that THAT is not going to happen, but I like to keep the option available just in case the call comes in. Maybe I'll change my mind before I'm 40, but right now, I'm content with my 1-bedroom flat. Life is good!