On the subject of… Writing
I've been wanting to do something more with my life for a while now, something I can actually be proud to say that I've done, and this feeling has only gotten stronger since R. came into my life. His effortless ambition and motivation leaves me wishing that those things came more naturally to me, but it has always been a struggle for me to muster the motivation to achieve even the most mediocre amount of success. I'm not sure if this is due to my upbringing, where I spent the majority of my adolescence listening to my father chant "it doesn't matter if you want to do it; you have to," as if this experience instilled some sort of subconscious defiance that renders me completely unable to prove my father right. Or maybe it's because it's simply not in my nature to peruse something that I can't, in my gut, justify as something I want spend precious time doing. Maybe I really am that self important. But overall, the only thing I've been able to confirm without a doubt is that that somehow, somewhere, there is a disconnect in my mind between doing things I don't want to do and the things I need to do in order to achieve success. They never seem to be one in the same.
This is why I've been fairly content with my current career path, even if it doesn't put me on the road to wealth and riches. If it came down to a do or die choice, I would prefer to live modestly for the sake of being able to wake up in the morning and not completely hate my life for the next 8-10 hours that I'm at work. And that's how my life is right now - I can wake up in the morning and really have no remorse or regret about having to go to work that day. In my own way, I enjoy the fact that I prove my father wrong every single work day, as he couldn't seem to fathom the idea of having a job that you didn't absolutely despise. I was always taught that you would never like your job - and yet, here I am, content where I am.
Or am I?
Despite my skepticism, I have always been a creative person. I have kept this website open since the summer of 1997. In the beginning, web pages and graphic design took the place of my hobby of drawing. It also took the place of my career plans, because I went from being a "Cartoonist for Disney" to "Graphic Designer with an office in New York."
For a long time, I primary web pages and filled them with text. Over time, however, my web pages became text surrounded by a web page. If I really had to be honest with myself, that is the real reason why I continue to pay $9/month for this website, the real reason why it just doesn't feel right not to have some place on the internet... because what if I needed to write? What if I simply had to, wherever would I put it? On my hard drive maybe, where no one would ever see? No, that won't do. That was always the thing about my writing. I couldn't just do it - someone had to read it or it was as if it didn't exist. My writing is that poor tree that falls in the forest - someone needs to hear it or else the very existence of the action is in question. If no one reads what I wrote, was it really written at all?
And so, we come full circle - me dealing with this dilemma of needing to want to do something, yet having all of this really unappealing stuff I have to do in order to be successful. And I'm fairly certain I'm happy, but what if I took a harder look at the things I want to do? What if, hiding right under my nose, there was something I wanted to that I could also be successful at?
The idea of being a writer is something I've tossed around before. I've mentioned it whimsically in this journal a few times already, and usually nothing came of it. This is primarily because that while I may be able to write to a sufficient degree, I always seemed to fall sort of coming up with an actual story. Minor detail, right? Exactly. If you can't come up with a story you might as well enter data into a computer all day which, what do you know, that's exactly what I've been doing for the past four years.
But what if... I came up with something. An idea, with a full group of characters and a world of conflict. What if... I feel really good about it. And what if... I was already on Chapter 2.
Maybe I could be a writer. Maybe I really could do this, and maybe I'd even excel at it. Maybe writing a book could be the first thing I would ever be proud to say that I do.
Although, it will take some time for me to keep a straight face when saying "I'm a writer." Has anyone ever been able to say that without all those within earshot immediately thinking that this person must be one of the most pretentious, self righteous messes that they'd never want the displeasure of talking to? The audacity of someone calling themselves a "writer!" How about calling yourself a princess and asking me to kiss your feet while I'm at it!
On second thought... maybe that's a perfect fit for me.
Ten Candles
Ten years ago today a 16 year old girl stood near a terminal gate in Regan National Airport in Washington, DC. The weather was cloudy, cold, and rainy - typical Virginia holiday weather - and she peered out through the layers of gray to watch the planes as they landed, trying to guess which one might be carrying the passenger she was waiting for. Her father paced restlessly behind her, in his typical and aggravating fashion, sometimes stopping to stand behind her and join in the watch of the runway traffic.
Today was the end of a 7 month long wait, but in the eyes of this teenager it had felt like all of her life had been spent building to this moment. Over dramatic and always right, this was when her life would finally start to make sense. The mountain of expectation of this moment had never seem to fully settle in to reality until the arrival announcement was made and the terminal door was propped open. He would soon be walking through that door.
Ten years ago today a 16 year old girl sat in the back set of her parents car as they drove through the parking garage of Regan National Airport. She was quiet and awkward, realizing for the first time that she had never really thought about what would happen after their initial meeting, having for so long assumed that it wouldn't go well, that she would be unwanted... until the 16 year old boy sitting across from her reached for and took her hand in his. She looked at him and smiled, genuinely surprised by the gesture, but kept her hand loosely gripped to his for the rest of the hour trip home.
Ten years ago today a girl was caught by surprise, mid sentence, by a kiss from a 16 year old boy. Standing in her bedroom under the bright light of the fan, her first time physically alone with him, the thought had not even crossed her mind as she babbled mindlessly about the decorations in her room. She looked up at him with wide eyes, barley having time to acknowledge the moment of her first kiss, while he stared back at her unapologetically. His reasoning was only a blunt confession: "I had been wanting to do that all day."
Ten years ago today a very childish girl made a very adult choice no more than 10 hours after first holding hands with a 16 year old boy, no more than 7 hours after her first kiss. Over confident and always right, she felt there was no point in waiting for a better opportunity than the present. This was where her future was finally starting to begin, and anxious for it to finally start, she vowed would be as close to him as she could possibly be from that moment on. A willing participant in the end of their innocence, she couldn't wait to see how much better tomorrow would be.
I acknowledge the anniversary of this day every year, but there was a very long period of my life where I struggled with the ramifications of the decisions I made that day. The person I was at 16 is a stranger to me, with the distance strengthened over time by my resentment for my carelessness and youthful ignorance. Life is riddled with crossroads - it is usually only after we have chosen our path that the options we once had before us start to be come clear, helping illuminate the unknowing mistakes in our judgment. Ten years ago today I committed my first distinguishable regret. I don't think I will ever reach a place where I can forgive the version of myself who never had a second thought of what that decision could lead to, whether it be because she couldn't have known any better or because I'm just not the forgiving type. But, now that I have finally reached a state of peace in my mental health, can I take a moment and acknowledge this dark anniversary in my foolish past. It's part of who I am and what lead me to here, and although I am never one to shy away from entertaining the ideas of where I could be if I had done things differently, for the first time in a long time... I don't see the point in it.
Fill ‘er Down
While waiting at stoplights I keep catching myself gazing in vapid disbelief at the current price of gas. I had thought that I would never see gas be cheaper than $2 a gallon again, and I think the fact that it has continued to fall well into the current $1.80 range is messing with my perception of reality in a really ridiculous way. I pass three or more gas stations during my five minute drive to work and each time that the price catches my attention I have the same moment of "WTF?", in the "what year is it again?" sort of way, accompanied a fleeting desire to pull over right then and fill up my tank because tomorrow it just might be $3.50 a gallon again. Because that could totally happen. Totally.
For as bad as my memory is, I still have very vivid memories of the time I finally started to pay attention to the price of gas. While I drove my family's 93 Chevy S10 during my senior year of high school, my father was the one who took care of the general maintenance of the vehicle - including keeping the tank full at all times. It wasn't until I was away at Radford University and my two close friends, Michelle and Dave, both had vehicles to maintain and budget for with their own money that it became something that I actually had a conversation about it with another person. My first year of college was also the same year that 9/11 happened, which is exactly why I finally started to take note of the price - as after the towers were hit the amount per gallon started to legitimately climb for the first time in almost 20 years.
I specifically remember a time when Dave and I were about to take a somewhat usual trip to Blackburg, in order to pick up Nadia from Virginia Tech for the weekend, and hearing Dave grumble and bitch about how the price had shot up to $1.68 and the following 20 minute conversation about how fucked up that was. In a lot of ways, my recent reality check over something as simple as the price of gas is tied directly to that memory. It has more to do with that time of my life than it does with something as relatively insignificant as how much it costs me to put gas in my car, and it's making my thoughts dwell on a lot of things that usually stay blissfully forgotten.
I could do without seeing the price drop to $1.68.
WAR needs to get here already!
I've allowed myself to become completely and utterly obsessed with Warhammer Online. The past month has sort of been like that last hour of work on Friday before the weekend starts; the fabric of time slows down and forces you to endure the most excruciating hour ever, but at the same time there's this feeling of relief in knowing that there are only a few minutes between you and 48 hours of doing whatever the fuck you want. Waiting for a release date of a game is a lot like that, with each day that passes getting you closer to the time you can finally log in and play. But that only does the trick until you realize you'd rather log in right now.
Getting hyped about Warhammer Online has been a great way to pass the (ample) downtime I have at work, but it's a fine line for someone like me to walk. Addiction runs in my family and there's no denying that I'm a product of that gene pool. However, going against the grain, I was never as much into substances as I was concepts. I become addicted to games, events, information. It's been like that since I was little, and if anything, has only strengthened as I got older. MMOs in particular have proven to be a bad match for me.
The first MMO I played was Dark Age of Camelot back in 2002, and back then there couldn't have been a worse time for someone line me to pick up a game like that. I was young (19) and unemployed, so it was all too easy for me to stop going outside or avoid seeing my "real life" friends in favor of spending more time playing the game. Who needed all of that stuff when I had ingame friends in an ingame world, where I could do anything I wanted without the limitations I had IRL? Add in the fact that my boyfriend at the time played the game as well and I was pretty much set. I thought it was a pretty cool setup at the time, but it caused me to lose contact with most of my High School friends and encouraged a lot of my social phobias.
But, I'm older now and I'd like to think that I know better than to fall into that trap again. I may have played World of Warcraft for 4 years, but I did myself proud by keeping myself from getting too "into" the mechanics of the actual game. I'll admit I fell head first into the nightmare that is guild management, making myself sick under the pressure of commitment and responsibility, but it was yet again an opportunity to learn how not to do something. I think I'm ready to dance the line of involvement again without sacrificing myself or my life. My name is Chrisy, and I am a recovered gameaholic.
That being said god damnit Mythic, get your Collector's Edition closed beta servers up so I can log in and get my fix!
On the Subject of Starting Over
As I go into the 6th year of owning this website and likely the 3rd year of passively wondering why I continue to pay for it, there is the occasional moment where the expense is forgiven and I actually feel the need to write. Despite it's rarity it's an unfortunate occurrence for everyone involved, not only for myself and the struggle it puts me through but also for those whose obscure Google searches somehow lead The People of the Internet into thinking that this site could contain any information that they actually wanted to find. Whenever I look at my very small referral list I wish I could apologize to all 5 of them, to the point where the idea putting a disclaimer across the top of this site has has crossed my mind numerous times, as there's nothing of note worth finding here - just the whining and complaining of an overall uneventful person, even by blogging standards - but there comes a time when I have to risk their disappointment and refresh my standing on the Google search results by updating this page out of need and not obligation. And that distinction deserves emphasis, as over the past 3 years I can count how many times I've updated this site out of "need" on a hand that's missing a thumb and maybe a finger or two.
I have always been an extremely cautious and reluctant person, despite what some of my decisions may suggest. There is nothing that I say or do that isn't a result of hours of thought and planning, and I am extremely uncomfortable and stubborn to do anything that doesn't follow that routine. This is not only my personality but more importantly it is my safety net; while most people struggle to overcome their shortcomings I have chosen to protect mine and avoid their agitation at all costs. Therefore, if stress and surprises make me panic and result in physical illness, I simply avoid the stress and surprises rather than work toward overcoming panic and experiment with medication for illness. This approach makes complete sense to me, and while it is still my preference to live this way, I'm finding more and more that the world doesn't have much tolerance for anything that could be qualified as weak. That is something I've always known to be common sense, that the world is unforgiving and yadda yadda yadda, but when it comes to the point of making the realization that you are the weak one they've been talking about and you're visualizing the inevitable uphill climb before you it can be a little bit daunting and pretty fucking depressing.
This coming August will mark 2 year anniversary that I have lived in Phoenix, and sometimes when I look back on it I am nothing short of amazed that I was able to accomplish it. As I just mentioned, I could never do anything of this magnitude without careful planning, so it should come as no surprise that my move to Phoenix was the result of 4 years of preparation. I spent the time between mid 2002 and the early part of 2004 in self-imposed isolation in order to figure out the interworking of my IBS so that I would no longer become deathly ill just because the wind blew in a different direction. I feel I successfully accomplished the goal of regaining control over my body and felt confident that my efforts would enable me to take the stress of starting a new life in Phoenix head on without a hitch. To date, my IBS has not been a notable problem while living in Phoenix so consider that "mission accomplished." I also spent an additional year getting a Certification in Computer Information Systems which, despite its technical title, would simply grant me the credibility that I can make a spreadsheet and word document that doesn't completely suck. I know this seems a little underwhelming for a career platform, but it was another careful choice; I have a high tolerance for repetitive tasks and take a deliciously nerdy pleasure in data storage, reporting, and manipulation. Given those natural abilities, perusing a career in Data Entry and mild Database Maintenance seemed like a match made in heaven. It took a few months of searching, but I have held 2 different jobs in this field while in Phoenix and so far I've been extremely happy with my choice
In addition to all of the above, during my 4 years of planning, there was always a very specific piece to the puzzle that was key to making it all work: I had someone I intended to spend the rest of my life with. Out of all the places in the world, I was moving to Phoenix because this was where Matt was born and raised and where he wanted to continue to live. I had fallen in love with Phoenix, too, so while he was the one that planted the idea I was most certainly a willing participant. My life philosophy, almost entirely derived from watching my parent's misery, is that happiness would always be my paramount goal which is why I felt comfortable picking Data Entry as my career, despite the fact that it is not necessarily the money powerhouse that I had once dreamed myself to become. Over time I became accustomed, and admittedly comfortable, with the idea that I would be a support income for the household, as by the time we moved out to Phoenix Matt would have his Mechanical Engineering degree and making $50k+ a year. I was also leaning toward the idea of one day becoming a stay-at-home mother, like my mother had been for me, so at times it seemed like a wasted effort to bust my balls for a career that I would one day walk away from, likely by the time I was 30.
Sometimes I wonder if I should consider myself lucky if all the plans that I made for my life in Phoenix was the first time that everything blew up in my face. Overall, though, whenever I think about the magnitude of the risks that I took all I feel is foolish for not taking the time to consider what I would do if it didn't work. For all my talk about planning and precautions, how could I have not once considered that Matt may realize that he didn't want to spend the rest of his life with me once I moved out here?
In September 2007, I found myself in a position that was best put as being "stranded in the middle of the ocean in a rowboat." I was 2 thousand miles away from anyone that I could look to for support, as both Matt and especially his family were now unavailable alternatives. I was making roughly $1200 month, which doesn't quite cut it when rent is a minimum of $600, utilities $100, gas $200, school loans $200, credit card payment $50 or more, car insurance $100, cell phone $50.... if you add it all up it doesn't leave any money for food, let alone "luxuries" like TV or internet. For a few months my name remained on the lease for the apartment that Matt and I shared, so I was fortunately only having to pay my $400 portion of the rent - but most of my expenses were still ending up on my credit card in order to make ends meet. I watching my debt grow during a time when my emotional state put me at risk of becomming a prisoner of depression and illness all over again, carrying with it the potential to debilitate me to the point that I could lose the small source of income that I did have. Then the little rowboat that I was clinging to would be gone as well.
The past year has been an eye-opening experience for me, and overall, I still haven't come to the conclusion if I like it or not. I do know, however, that I'm not comfortable with the fact that in the grand scheme of things it doesn't matter if I like it or not. This is what it is and I can't figure out how to approach it, let alone take the reigns and move forward. Sometimes I think I can almost feel myself standing still as the world rushes by and leaves me behind.
While before I had a very clear vision and determination of where I was heading in life, now I am left with foggy fantasies and ideas that change from week or week. This type of uncertainty would usually drive me absolutely batshit, but I haven't come out of this experience completely unphased - my calm acceptance of "living for today" is proof that this experience has changed me, and again, I have not determined yet if it was for the better. I am turning 26 this year and despite my newfound numbness I do still feel a progressive amount of pressure to come to some sort of decision of what my career will be, since apparently, my beloved Data Entry isn't good enough to cut it. It's hard to put the gears in motion when I'm perfectly content where I'm at despite the fact that the rest of the world deems it not good enough to survive.
To further add to my confusion I know how difficult it is to change from one established career to another. At my current source of employment, there is the opportunity and promise of advancement, but at what cost? This is a payment service company, dealing with credit cards and bills and residuals, but that has never the career I wanted to peruse. I've worked in finance-related companies and departments because they were the ones offering entry level positions for Data Entry, so my reason for being here was to have access to the technology, not to actually do what I'm using the technology for. In the 3 months that I've been working here I have tried to keep an eye out for what positions would be available to me as the "next step up", and from my current vantage point, my best option will likely be the Call Center and as much as I fought to get above that type of job I can't help but see it as a form of defeat to progress there now. There's always the slim chance I could venture into the underwriting area, where I would help analyze merchant applications to determine if we want to do business with them but after having researched it a little bit I've realized that that may be taking a big step into the hole of a finance-oriented career. It would be a specific job requiring specific training, and I wonder more and more how wise it would be of me to peruse it when it might do me more harm than good for it to be my last credible source of employment on a resume sent in response for a technical position.
For nearly a year now I've flirted with the notion of getting into SQL somehow. I've said I love databases, and if Data Entry doesn't cut it, why can't I be a Database Administrator? When I was unemployed during February and March, my boyfriend helped me set up a side computer with Microsoft SQL Server so that I could start testing it out. And I really did try to make it work - I loaded up the program, I spent a few hours reading over the information sites, tried to follow the steps in a few tutorials but for some reason it wasn't clicking with me. If I'm supposed to be doing this because I want to do it, why wasn't I feeling as though I wanted to do it? I've thought a lot about it and done even more research in my free time at work, and I keep coming to the same conclusion that it wasn't what I thought it would be. It requires a much more technical understanding of computers and networking than I currently possess, and while that is an interest of mine it's not exactly to the extent that would be required in order to get a MCDBA like I had hoped for. In short, I was interested in this career because I thought I already had a respectable foundation of knowledge to build upon only to discover that I likely know more about the Amazon Rainforest than I do about Microsoft SQL server and relating software.
I know this may sound like I'm giving up on a MCDBA because it's "too hard," but that's not exactly the case. It's not the challenge that bothers me as much as the fact that I was hoping to find a career where I wasn't starting over from the very beginning. I feel confident that I do have some worthwhile skills already, things that I've spent the time to learn over the years, and I'm looking for something that builds off of them rather than letting them go to waste. Especially when I'm starting to feel as though I'm running out of time, the less I need to spend backtracking and learning basics the better.
And by a mere fluke I think I may have found something that seems so obvious that I feel a little silly that I didn't make the connection before.
After years of debating whether or not to do so, I'm finally learning PHP (and, hey, maybe while doing so I'll finally figure out how to make the archives on this site work). Once I tackle that, I am going to work on learning how to make PHP and MySQL communicate. So, in short, I'm going to go back to the same dream I had when I was 16 but with a slightly different twist; instead of making the appearance of a web site look pretty I'm going to see if I can make the code that powers them beautiful. I'm going to forgo any professional schooling on the subject and focus on teaching myself, much like I did for HTML and graphic design, and use respected and official certifications to prove my knowledge. I can only hope that this level of self determination and motivation would be respected by a future employer cause that's all I got to give. Classes and degrees take more time than I feel I have.
I'm afraid to give myself a timeline on this, because I always rebel against any form of pressure-inducing structure. so lets make it modest. Lets see where I am 6 months from now. Ideally I'll have the PHP thing mastered and be working on MySQL. It shouldn't be too hard right? My ability to have fancy things like cable TV may depend on it.