Wanting. To work.

I am now three weeks into the job search process. I am also now almost four weeks into having very few responsibilities at my job and performing very little work. Currently, I occupy a rolling desk chair, stare at my laptop, gaze out the window…for eight hours a day. Come back the next day. Repeat, again and again and again.

It’s becoming a bit demoralizing. I feel slimy for drawing a paycheck for nothing. I feel useless, unnoticed and unheard. Which is why I am trying to find a new job. It’s slow going, though. Which has left me wondering two things: Who would’ve thought it would be so hard to find a place to work hard at? And, why the heck did I major in English?

Despite my previous post on needing to want more, when it comes to work, I am not asking for much – a place to go, to be useful, to work hard. I will make spreadsheets or answer the phones. Heck, I’ll take out the trash. I just want to do something for gosh sake’s.

The Rocking Chair. Part 2.

After waiting several weeks for my brother to be available to go pick up the rocking chair from Cracker Barrel, he was finally able to come up yesterday in his truck to help me bring it home.

After purchasing the chair inside the store, the manager had come outside to unlock the security chain. I was in mid-point towards the chair I had selected when I heard a voice behind me:

“Kayla, I am so glad to see what you are buying. I’ve always wanted one of these myself.”

It was Dr. Camp. I responded with exuberant but nonsensical exclamations of excitement, “I know! I’ve always…! Yes, I can’t wait.”

I took the voice to be a divine nod in the affirmative and smiled. Such a rare but happy thing to have one’s choices so immediately and explicity affirmed.

The Wanting of it

Yesterday, Donald Miller was on campus speaking at chapel. I was a bit loathe to go, having heard him here a few years ago when I was a student. I imagined the inevitable change from self-conscious vulnerability to the polished smooth speaking that only wealth and fame bring.

He was definitely more polished, but I was surprised to find his simple talk very helpful. He managed within 20 minutes’ time to successfully bend my idea of what comprises “a meaningful life” to a manner of thinking I imagine I’ll hold in the back of my mind and heart for some time.

His basic premise was this: He had taken some storytelling classes and decided that the basic elements required to live a meaningful life are the same as those that are required to create a really great story.

And those are: 1) The protagonist must want something and 2) He or she must experience conflict and suffering to get that thing. A good story does not happen easily when viewers are unsure of what the protagonist wants. Similarly, the story isn’t engaging if the protagonist does not have to undergo suffering or trail to obtain it.

I thought for awhile on this and realized the truth of it. And thought of my own life. I went home and listed out the things that I want and felt encouraged that I don’t have them yet – the hell I’ll have to go through to get them means that my life will be interesting, a good story.

I’ve always thought I wanted too much, but I think I want too little. It takes courage to commit to wanting something for oneself, and I haven’t felt this courage very often. I’m too often content to take whatever comes, for fear that I’ll fail in both the wanting and the getting.

Donald Miller’s talk also led to another important self-realization. I didn’t major in English because I am interested in the processes of creating/analyzing literature – I majored in English because I am interested in learning how to live and thought that by immersing myself in the stories and experiences of others, I would find meaning.

This helps, somehow, and explains why the thought of being an academic (despite its glamour and its challenge) was never completely appealing. I can find meaning doing a multitude of things, wanting a multitude of things. The poetry will be my story. I want to write it well.

New do

Just FYI. I am going to wear my hair this way every day. From now on. It is just the look I’ve been searching for.

Rocking Chair

So, I received a VISA card for $100 not too long ago, and I’ve been wondering what to purchase with it…I thought of buying a nice quilt but decided I really should finish the one I started. I thought of perhaps buying a Kindle, and may just break down and do it one of these days. Just not today. I thought of buying a new Chi curling wand, as these things are miraculous, and I’d love to have one with a slightly larger barrel. I thought of buying many things to improve my home, and, ultimately, I decided to buy a rocking chair, a nice one – in fact, one of the rocking chairs that sits on the patio of Cracker Barrel.

Lately, I’ve been trying to make my home a place of comfort, less about making a statement or realizing some designer’s whim. An eclectic mix of items that are good for the soul – another reason I really want to finish that quilt, so that I can have at last an adult version of the comfort blanket. I’ve been trying to take time to drink teas, journal, and make a place for myself to live and be at rest.

I can imagine myself now in the wee hours, candlesticks burning, a cup of hot tea, rocking and wondering to myself.

Blogging on the Clock.

Things that I have done today but should never do on the clock:

1. Apply for other jobs.
2. Email friends.
3. Look at pinterest.
4. Read NPR and BBC news.
5. Write on my blog.

This is a typical day.

Things I just did but should never do.

1. Blog about applying for jobs.

I’m quite the rebel today. Don’t you think?

Cielito Lindo…and new love for boleros.

As a child, I knew the tune as a potato chip jingle: “Ay, ay, ay, ay, I’m the Frito Bandito. I love Frito’s cornchips, I love them I do. I’ll get Frito’s cornchips, I’ll take them from you…”

Thus, the genre always caricatured was never taken seriously by me, and why would it? The jingle, paired with a cartoon Mexican bandit, complete with pistols, pot-belly and strong accent, led me to believe that the songs were comical and/or farcical. Lately, though, as I’ve forayed deeper and deeper into Hispanic cultures, I discovered the song from which the jingle came Cielito Lindo, (this is Vicente Fernandez’s classic version) as well as the genre itself, los boleros, and the depth of feeling the genre portrays. In time, the stereotypes of large brimmed Mariachis holding tiny guitars and Coronas has faded as the lyrics began to take on real meaning.

Have, consequentially, discovered Pablo Montero…Isn’t he lovely? I first encountered him, spectating the star-studded telenovela Triunfo del Amor. I also discovered a delightful remake of the traditional piece by Marta Gomez. GrrOOw…Dark, handsome men in tight embroidered pants…What’s not to like? And, Gomez’s remake, with its saccharin poignancy, almost hangs in the air.

I’ve discovered that I really enjoy the boleros – the waltzy jilt of the guitar, the abrasive trumpets and the soft violins blend elements that shouldn’t sound good together but do. The lyrics are emotional, full of heartbreak and heartache, longing and loving. The songs are songs I could see myself memorizing, singing to my children before bed, singing in the shower, singing to a lover, singing at the top of my lungs from happiness or out of sorrow, or both at the same time. For me, THOSE are the best songs, those that capture the “good and bad” always, at every moment, of life, those that can be incorporated into life, making its bittersweet experiences both more bitter and more sweet.

Resolved.

My New Year’s Resolutions are as follows:

1. Lift weights at least twice a week. I’m tired of feeling like a weeny and having a frail body. Go me.

2. Do better at maintaining my home on a daily basis. I want my home to be a clean and organized, functioning entity. I want its operations to run smoothly, which means investing the time in it to create organized systems for it. I want to change my perspective to view the home as something I must take the time to manage, a functioning well-oiled machine. (Not that, at present, I have a great deal of “operations” to manage. But, I like the idea of beginning to set up and organize the few operations I’m responsible for.) There is some manner of peace and rest in that idea as well.

3. Grow up and be a woman, for goodness’ sake. The seventeen year old who has been running my mind for the past decade has got to go. I need a new, more mature inner voice. How to force that change, I am not quite sure. But, perhaps acknowledging that a change is needed will help in initiating it.

4. Continue to nurture the inner Latina. Which means, I’m letting my hair get long, spending a bit more time in front of a mirror, wearing more colorful clothing, dancing more, drinking a bit more (having discovered Mojitos not long ago), and committing myself to enjoying life.

Azulejo Table. Almost Finished!

Change of plans:

1. It was going to be too expensive to build the table from scratch, so I was able to find a small table at Goodwill to modify for the project.

2. The rectangular shape of the table meant my square tile design was out. I had already begun to create these tiles for a future, yet-to-be-decided project, so I was able to use them instead.

3. An exciting feature of the table I found is that the lid lifts up revealing storage space beneath! (The table was actually a handmade Lego table for a child, with space for the Legos beneath and the iconic green Lego mat hot glued to the top.) However, for my own use, I’ve decided to store journals and letters in there, thus making my project a bright and cheery sip-coffee-while-reading-or-writing-letters-or-journal-entries.

4. I’ve decided to place the table upstairs in my room in front of the large window. Perfect for contemplation.

5. But, it’s not finished yet! The tiles have already been glued to the table top. I’ve just got to wait for the adhesive to set before adding the grout.

I enjoyed the moments of sunshine and warmth this morning, painting the table yellow, outside on my patio. The morning was a much-needed respite against cold and darkness and a perfect beginning to a new year!

Gatlinburg was

Red Ford Fiesta. Days Inn on the River. Beef stew. Pecan Log with Maraschino cherries and coffee before bed. Brown eyes. River lullaby. Alarm clocks. Sugar ‘n Spice pancakes. Holding hands. Walking fast. Old Tyme pictures. Snow on the mountain. Blue scarf and gloves. Taking pictures. Cold kisses. Margarita pie. Sitting on the same side of the booth at restaurants. Moonshine cherries. Taking more pictures. Beef jerky for my brother. Fudge for my mom. Sky Lift panick attack. Misty rain. Bone cold. UFOs on History channel. White sheets. A potter’s shop. Candlesticks. Hurt feelings. PMS. Sideways glances. Outlet malls. Driving home into a sunset. Forgiveness. Young, uncertain, hopeful. Love.