Our house is a very, very fine house.

Well I've done it again. I am back in the old bf. the house is lovely.
This, my friends, is what I like to call an adventure.

End scene.

Surviving and chickens

For a girl that is great at surviving being "comfortable" is hard. This is the first time that I have not had to scrimp to get to the next day or put $5.00 in my gas tank and pray that it would last a week. Don't get me wrong-I like this life (for now) but I don't know what to do with myself. I keep considering picking up a weekend job (which is a stupid idea...considering I LOVE my free weekends!)

I need a hobby or a horse or something.

In other news I've been house-sitting (well technically I'm just house-living because I've been temporarily "living here" for the last three months). They have a dog, 3 horses, chickens and an evil, evil cat. Their cat bite me on the hand the other day because I wouldn't let him take a bite of my sushi, the horses have managed to take and instant disliking to me and the dog doesn't think I play Frisbee with it enough. It's going so well. Ha ha.

Oh SNAP...history.

Bureaucratic red tape can be frustrating. I've spent the last hour clicking around on different sites trying to figure out how to get my SNAP benefits renewed. So far I've come up with nothing. And an important thing to point out here is that you can't just call the welfare office because a) they won't pick up and b)their voicemail is always full. Go figure.

As an AmeriCorps member I'm eligible for SNAP benefits because without them I probably would be giving up food for the year. The stipend covers rent, bills and occasionally getting to work/my service site. The month or two before I got through the red tape the first time (sigh) I was living off of free potatoes and peanut butter. Not exactly a healthy lifestyle. And just so you know there IS a stigma still attached to receiving Food Stamps...the cashiers aren't the problem (in fact more times than not my EBT card strikes a commonality with them and we chat about it!)it's the people in line who automatically start to judge my purchases when I state that I'm using my Access card (EBT, ACCESS Card, Food Stamps...all the same thing basically...just government lingo...). That may be the reason I find myself sneaking to the grocery store in the late hours of the evening.

But I'm also very grateful for the assistance.

I've been in reflective mode lately. A few weeks ago I sat down with my friend Ryan and we talked about life. Where we were, where we were going, where we've been. Ya see I've been focusing on so much on the now and beyond that I've forgotten about my past. Remembering history, knowing our history is so important. My housemates and I were sitting around a campfire this past weekend reflecting on the concept of history. How it's impossible to advance without knowing where we came from and how that influenced who we are. History is both personal and shared, both private and public. The Civil War, Prohibition, and the Great Depression all affected my life as well at the birth of my siblings, the growth of my hometown and the colleges I attended. I wouldn't be where I am without those things happening first.

So back to me (this is my blog after all...ha ha): It wasn't until my discussion with Ryan that I came to realize how much I've changed the past two years. I've been so focused on surviving, on finding a path, on being happy that I've missed how much life has impacted me! I've gained confidence, I can argue with the meanest of mechanics, I can sorta fix leaky pipes, I can teach, I can worm my way into an organization, I can make a mean cup of joe, I've become bolder...and so on...

I guess the point of this is that I'm glad that I have history.

Looking for lost poetry...

I fell into reading an article this afternoon about noticing beauty and art around us. It was quite long but I was completely enthralled in it while sipping my afternoon cup of joe. It made me start to wonder what kind of experiences I could be having if I wasn't so stuck in my normal routine. (Read it here: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/04/AR2007040401721.html)

Take this morning for example. Usually on a Sunday morning I get up barely in time to get ready. I throw back a cup of coffee and try to put on clothes that match...on a good day I remember to brush my hair. Then I grab my overfilled purse and Bible with too many papers in it and rush out the door to get to church late. This morning my routine was disturbed by a phone call inviting me to breakfast before church. "What kind of nonsense is this?", I thought to myself. And then I realized that I would really love to have conversation and breakfast before church. We had time and I love these friends. Why not? It was because of my routine...my stupid routine that is frankly, boring. Thankfully I got myself together and had a great time (and ate a great Western PA breakfast!). It was a lovely, lovely way to start off this Sunday. And I also found a new place to eat that is right down the street from me (how had I never noticed it before???).

Also, I sat in a different pew then normal. That was great. I got to see an older gentleman that I've never noticed before pouring out his heart to God. It made me pause and really appreciate everything about this life.

Back to the article I mentioned earlier. This line particularly stuck me: "The poet Billy Collins once laughingly observed that all babies are born with a knowledge of poetry, because the lub-dub of the mother's heart is in iambic meter. Then, Collins said, life slowly starts to choke the poetry out of us. It may be true with music, too."

I'm taking this to heart. I'm going to go out this week and try to find the poetry that I've lost. I'm going to break routine. I'm going to do something crazy. I'm going to talk to someone new. I'm going to enjoy life a little more.

And I'm going to keep listening to this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pp-Gl-70dSo




(Sorry I had to put the whole links in...they wouldn't show up any other way!)

Listening to bus life...

This is the story of a girl who rides a bus. I find myself on at least 4 daily. It's an interesting experience-buses have their own culture. Most sit in silence absorbed in books or music or their thoughts I suppose but a few brave people talk and you know that everyone else is more or less listening. I usually stick ear buds in and fade into music oblivion but the last two days I've forgotten my MP3 player and have had to listen. Most it is gossip about people that I don't know. Some of it is small children yelling. I hear fights and phone calls, secrets, family stories, and tips on washing dishes. Occasionally I find myself in conversations with strangers. We talk about work or school, and we always about what buses we ride and when we ride them. We talk about the drunk on 61C or the lack of runs on the P7.


I'm losing track of all thoughts but bus life and who wants to hear about that?




Not even the people that ride do.