I wonder sometimes what our lives would be like if we lived in my home town. The influences of my family and the community around them. I wonder if i would still be teaching because the school systems are better (at least locally) and they pay better. Everywhere has its faults but for that instance would it have been a better places to be? I have school teacher friends there who cannot find a full time job, but is that more about them not wanting to move too far or just the fact that there is not a ton of turnover. I guess both things are good about the area. My sisters and I have had the same kindergarten teacher even 15 year apart. My parent’s and possibly one of the sisters have had the same teachers in highschool. I don’t know if this is a good or bad thing but it certainly makes the area feel more connected than the ones i’m in right now.
How does an adult become involved in a community (online or otherwise)?
So one way is to just show up, but then what about if you have a nearly crippling social anxiety problem?
My personal social issues are not crippling but I do feel awkward talking to people I don’t know. Does that get easier with practice? I have classes with real people and I make some small tall but not enough to make a real friend. Maybe I should ask people more questions. How do you learn to care about a stranger’s life?
This thread has caused me morbid fascination and to cry. I think I should go to bed now.
I am not one of those people who work all the time. Sometimes I will get caught up on a project but I never feel the need to always be at work. That could also be because I have a job, not a career. Even when I had a “career” teaching I never wanted to be working all the time, I just had too much to do, that it felt like I had to be working all the time to exercise get anything done.
Maybe it’s because I don’t have to manage people. I try to build a good foundation for the tasks I’m doing so with a) anyone else can do them with minimal preparation and b) that issues that come up can be handled or at least not ruin all the work that has been accomplished.
I don’t want to be at work all the time. I don’t want a job that I have to take home with me constantly. I say this as I’m working from home. But i know that I don’t have to do this every night or even weekly. Just when the extra time is required, projects few and far between. I try to have high standards for the job that I do so that I don’t have to scramble and I don’t feel rushed for my own fault. I do not see everyone I work with doing this.
I shouldn’t compare my work habits to others, but i do and even though I am stressed out right now, I know it is something that that will pass and it is not something I did to myself.
Really? I hate working from home when there are a million other things I could be doing. I really want to do some school work or talk to Jill who I haven’t been talked to in weeks. Baking bread? I’d rather be doing that.
I don’t want a job where it takes away from the quality of life I have with my family and friends. If that means never having a real career, that’s ok with me, life will have other meaning than what I do for a living.
It feel like this week has been particularly nostalgic. Mentions of good times from a decade ago, remembrances of my Grandma seem to be hard hitting this week, and nothing good happens after 2 am.
October 17th, 2002 – college was not starting out as well as one would hope, everything was kinda screwed up, but i had a wonderful friend who counted all the wonderful things that made life good.
This week also brought out alot of missing Grandma, and old friends and being in michigan surrounded by people I know and most of them I like. Being able to just be out at 2am still driving around looking for something to do.
I would never want to be 18-19 again, because really that was my peak of teenage crazy, but we sure had a ton of fun. I met some really amazing people and caused a ton of drama. Part of me wishes we’d have been closer and stayed closer, but we’d never we where we are now if that had happened. And I like me now more than 18yr old me.
All this morning I was running around the house getting ready talking to myself. And of course by the time I have the time, I forgot whatever it was I was thinking about.
Sometimes it’s a feeling as though my feelings are not being heard, but i really have nothing to say. This leads to feeling misunderstood in an unusual way. Like i should say something and mean something but nothing comes to mind. It’s a confusing for feeling.
My immediate family is pretty liberal – not crazy liberal – but certainly gay rights, civil liberties, and religious freedom liberal. My siblings and I have grown up this way, so it boggles my mind to see anything different. I just do not understand any other way. Though this story focuses on my Grandpa, I whole heartedly believe that my Grandma also made this journey before she passed away. One of my favorite memories is her making sure that one of her frammed basketball cards (Grandma LOVED her sports) was out front and center for when openly racist family visited.
My dad posted this on facebook. I am very proud.
We moved to [small town] when I was 11…. We came out on weekends from [larger urban city] to go fishing. My sister had moved here a few years earlier, but that wasn’t really a factor because that hadn’t really worked out and she spent a lot of time with us in [larger urban city] anyway.
The biggest reason we moved from [larger urban city] to [small town] was because there were no black people in [small town]. None. Not one.
My dad was from Texas, Mom from Alabama. They couldn’t help it, it’s what they knew. Dad had a number of coworkers who were black, and he liked them, but in his mind there was a difference between black PERSONS and black PEOPLE. And to be fair, in the late 60’s, early 70’s, regardless of who was to blame, there was a lot of tension in places like [larger urban city]. Maybe [small town] was indeed safer.
Cut to 1995, 22 years later. (although it seems like 50). A fly-in fishing trip to a remote cabin in Canada, the group including Dad and a friend from work, who happened to be black. There were discussions, some a little uncomfortable because Dad was struggling a little bit with his past, I think, and ultimately mutual respect. I remember my friend, late at night in the dark of the cabin when we were all in our bunks, “This is for you Buddy” followed buy a beautiful rendition of an old country song. He had a nice voice.
Cut to 2008 when my dad, in probably his last political act, voted for Barack Obama as President of the United States.
What’s the point? Today Mitt Romney was in [small town], my town. He has evidently failed to make the journey my Dad managed, even given that it should have been a shorter one for them. If he’s not a bigot, he’s worse, because he’s acting like one to get a vote, to become President because it’s “his turn”. And in my town, at [Local Farm] people cheered him. And for the first time I’m ashamed at having grown up here.
I live in the south. I live in the bible belt. Having been raised in a family that comes from the south somethings are very familiar, but others still suprise me. Open racisim is still a thing – maybe not out in public – but certainly in a group of “like minded” individules. (Read this as white people.) I have never experianced this personally. While in the south I have only worked in places that were ethnicly and culturally diverse, so when I hear that this kind if thing still happpens I’m still suprised. It makes my heart sad and I really cannot wrap my head around the thought process.
On a simliar vein, I found this while being lazy on the internet this morning. Hugh Hefner wrote an article for his magazine Playboy about Sexual Freedom. My favorite quote “Today, in every instance of sexual rights falling under attack, you’ll find legislation forced into place by people who practice discrimination disguised as religious freedom.”
Where I live now has a decent sized gay population. Things that give me hope are times when I overhear conversations like this. At least its a step in the right direction.
Person 1: “I think I’m going to vote NO on that amendment.” (large amendment to state constiution against gay marriage)
Person 2: “Wow that seems awfully liberal for you. I’m suprised.”
Person 1: “I don’t agree with it [gay marriage], but its not my place to say they can’t get married if they love eachother.”
Today is 5 years since we officially started dating. Though we’d been seeing each other for about 6 weeks beforehand. In a little over two weeks we are officially getting married. Some days it seems like no time has really passed at all (as in time flies) and others it feels like I’ve know him forever and we’ve grown into this symbiotic blob. Neither are a bad feeling when I stop to think about them. Often in a weird ways they are both comfortable and exciting all at once.
One of my biggest worries about our wedding day is getting all ugly cry-face and not being able to speak because I’m hyperventilating all over my pretty dress and new shoes. This is a worry because he deserves to have his new wife articulate how awesome he is coherently to their loved ones. (even if they really already know, it’s hard to miss) I know everyone will understand the ugly cry-face and some may get a little weepy as well. Weepy in this case is good for you.
So while I’ll probably not be able to be understood I will be meaning…
“I love you. I’m so happy to be getting married to my best friend. And I can’t wait to continue to experience life with you.
Ok that’s the most wedding-y picture I have available that isn’t actuality part of wedding surprises.
We have 30 days left until the “big day”. I feel like I should be more stressed, or maybe just more outwardly stressed. Instead I know I’m clenching my teeth at night because my jaw is starting to hurt. I have a plan and that makes things better but I can’t sleep at night because i’m double checking the list in my head for things I can’t forget. During the day I’m not breaking out into hives or losing my hair so I count that as a win.
I feel patronized when I talk about the wedding. They talk about being a “bride”. Really, I’m planning a party. I’d much prefer to go with “hostess”. The wedding stuff is the easy part about this whole time. Wonderful OtherJ, witnesses, master of ceremonies for the ceremonial part, words to say in front of everyone, warm and squishy words for his eyes only, and a party at the end.
I feel like bride is a derogatory word at this point. Apparently people grow another head or sprout horns when they are engaged. Maybe it has to do with the horrible notion of a wedding being the “bride’s day”. No. We have had equal input and equal responsibility through this planning process. I’m better at making lists (or adapting them) and setting up the organization, but i suck at making a decision.
Though I have not heard words about it, I am sure that we will get all sorts or talk because we’re moving into a house now. Yes we are getting married and moving to an adult house. We are renting a house . It happens to be after a long battle with noisey neighbors and an extra long drive to work. But because we are also getting married there is some chatter.
We have gotten the “when are you having kids?” and “you’ll understand when you have kids.” Some days it is harder than others not to laugh at these questions. No plans for babies, active plans to prevent babies at all costs.
We are down to thirty days until the party and official ceremony. I’m ready and we can do this. I’m also ready to get on with life and find a new project to play with. I think I’ll be ok with just going back being a person, potentially with a different name.