Resolutions

1.  Archery - I gave archery a try over the summer and really enjoyed it.  I'd like to take it up as a hobby (or a sport?) and I know that there's an archery range where I'm moving.  This year seems like a good time to give it a go.

2. Fencing.  I've long wanted to try fencing.  Sword fighting just looks fun and really kind of kick ass.  The historian in me loves the idea of it.  I'm going to try to fit it in this year.

3.  I'd like to fit it a foreign language but this may be far too ambitious.  I wouldn't mind perfecting my French or learning Italian or German or even Gaelic.  I just don't know that this is a legitimate goal for this list. We'll see.

 4.  Some fun road trips with friends.  I love travel and I love road trips.  It's been far too long since I've done either.  This year seems like the year to change that. 

5.  To worry less.  I have no idea how to accomplish this.  I'm a natural worrier and I don't have faith easily.

6. To come to acceptance or make peace with the fact that I'm single and will likely remain so.  I don't enjoy being single, but...on a good day, I'm complicated.  And I have a hell of lot of emotional baggage. I think there are plenty of good things about me but combining my complications and emotional baggage with my very strong, opinionated personality...well, it would take a very brave man with the patience of a saint to take me on. I would have to get brave, too....or at least be inspired enough to try to be brave. I would have to be given reason to have faith in someone again and that's asking a lot of another person.  It seems unfair to expect someone to prove themselves and yet that's what it would take.  I wish I could be one of those non-introspective people who jump willy-nilly from one relationship to the next without a second thought, though.  Lots of people do it every day.  The minute they get single, they start looking for the next relationship, rebounding over and over again. I can't seem to do that.  Anyway, coming to acceptance is a goal. 

7.  And finally, find a way to like the idea of turning 40.  Turning 40 is incredibly scary.  I really had no idea how freaked out I would be by a number.  I've had people over the years tell me that their 40's were a really great period in their life.  That they felt stronger, more confident and more comfortable in their own skin.  I'm really hoping these things are true.  So, maybe this year, I can find a reason to like turning 40. 

These are my resolutions....I think. 

2014 and Going On 40

First things first.  I'm moving.  Again.  I'm going back to central Arkansas and for a lot of reasons, I'm happy about it.  The next three weeks are going to be crazy and hectic. I hope I make it through in one piece.  I think each new move I make takes something out of me. Moving around so much at this point in my life is exhausting.  It just is.  I'm starting to feel old and I want to be settled.  I want a home.  I'm tired of moving and being so up in the air about everything.  So, I'm really hoping this will be my last move for a very, very long time.

This last year has been....bizarre.  And flat out crazy at times.  At least for me.  I had high hopes for my move here and they didn't pan out.  For many years, my life was calm, normal, predictable and drama free.  I've paid for that in spades over the last year. I managed to fit what felt like a lifetime of problems and complications into a very short period. It was an eventful year, to say the least. I put my cat to sleep, got into a major car wreck (and a smaller fender bender this week), lost a job that I was ultimately relieved to lose, dealt with endless rental problems, discovered a love of coffee, started wearing glasses (which I needed more than I wanted to admit), worked in a profession I had no background in but ended up really enjoying (the really great people helped that), published some articles as a result of that job, watched far, far too much Netflix, discovered that a good hammock can cure the blues from time to time and unsuccessfully tried to come to terms with turning 40 soon. This is actually the short list.  There are other things I'm not comfortable blogging about. 

In recent days, I've been thinking about making New Year's resolutions for the first time.  I considered it last year but ultimately didn't.  I'm not great on the follow through, so resolutions always seem pointless.  However, as I mentioned above, I'm turning 40 this year....actually in just a few months. Forty is a milestone. A scary, intimidating, mid-life crisis inducing milestone that is freaking me out more than I care to admit.  I can't say it's making me any more introspective than what I normally am (I'm already introspective to the point of neurotic).  It's just that I'm starting to feel old.  Anyway, making some resolutions might help me find a way to come to terms with 40. 

Resolutions to come...

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A Teachable Moment

(read the whole thing before getting angry)

Over the last few weeks, I've watched the soap opera of Paula Deen and the unraveling of her empire with some interest.  I wasn't remotely surprised that she'd used the "n" word.  She's an older white southerner who grew up in a segregated society and came of age in the midst of the battle over integration.  It would have been far more surprising for her not to have used the word. And I'm not remotely surprised about the unraveling of her empire either.

As a society, we like watching people being torn down. We seem to take great glee in the process of tearing something or someone down and when given the choice between learning/growing and ruination, we generally go for ruination.  We like to be dragged to our lessons kicking and screaming.
And although I recognize that this is her own doing, I'm not sure I agree with the outcome of ruination.

Let me first say that I have never and will never use that word.  No joke - I never have and never will. It's an ugly, mean-spirited, hurtful word that should never be used.  In fact, the word always makes me cringe.  It especially makes me cringe when African-Americans use it with each other. I know the sacrifices made by Civil Rights leaders and workers in the fight for basic human rights.  Whenever I hear the "n" word tossed about amongst African-Americans, I think of Dr. King and Medgar Evars and Rosa Parks.  I think about their sacrifices and the bravery it took to stand firm in a very vulnerable position whilst in the middle of a storm of hatred.  I think of the dedication it took to take that stand and make that fight and I think about the lives lost for the sake of the possibility of something better for future generations. And it bothers me that the "n" word - a word that generations of African-Americans had to fight against - is used so casually by some African-Americans today. 

But when it comes to whites using this word....let's be honest.  There's only one reason why whites use this particular racial slur (or really any slur).  It's used because some people seem to need a hierarchy to feel good about themselves.  The people who use this word use it because it reinforces in them a rather sad need to be superior to somebody.  When they're feeling anything negative about themselves or their lives, they tell themselves, "well, at least I'm not [fill in the blank with whatever a person finds inferior]." A hierarchy makes people feel secure. It makes them feel like they matter more than others. It makes them feel important when really they're no different than anyone else. Ultimately, the "n" word is used in anger....it's used to cause pain....it's used to establish superiority.  There's nothing excusable about that.

Regardless, I don't think ripping apart Paul Deen and her Southern fried empire is the right answer. This could have been a teachable moment - both for her and for an entire generation of older white Americans who managed to ignore the lessons put forth to them half a century ago.  This could have been a moment for sincere discussion about race in America. Instead, it's turned into societal demolition crew with one side turning her into a poor, picked-on martyr and the other side intent on destruction.  And she stands in the middle with what apparently is genuine surprise about why this is even an issue.

I don't think Deen has bad intentions, I do think she is woefully (and rather blissfully) ignorant about racial issues. Like many whites, Deen has been somewhat sheltered from the ugly and oftentimes painful realities of being on the receiving end of racial prejudice.  She's never been forced to imagine what it must be like to be viewed as something less than.  But then again, most whites haven't. 

Watching her cringe-worthy interview, I was left with the question, "what exactly does she think racism is?"  Clearly she doesn't have a realistic take on what's racist and what isn't.  Having a antebellum plantation themed wedding with an all black wait staff?  Oh, come on! Are you kidding me?! This shows a huge disconnect from reality. If ever there was a time in this woman's life for a "let's get real" conversation, this it it.  She's not the only one needing this long overdue conversation either.  Again, there's an huge group of people who support Deen and what she said. But we aren't doing that.  As usual, we're taking sides and taking swipes and refusing to address the long-standing problem at hand. 

The thing is, Deen will rise again.  As much as we love tearing people down, we also love a good hardscrabble story of someone losing everything only to climb back to the top through hard work, tears and sweat.  We love the gumption of someone getting knocked down and getting back up again. So after a period of time, she'll get back up again and go forward.  But I'm still left with the question, will she have actually learned anything from this?  Or will she just move forward still baffled and surprised by the uproar her ignorance caused?

A teachable moment indeed.

Hobbes

Hobbes was roughly six weeks old when he entered my life in 1994.  I was in college and dating a guy who lived right next door to me.  The guy worked at a restaurant and one night after work stumbled across a tiny, malnourished little ball of fur.  No one really knows how he got separated from his mother or litter mates, but they couldn't be found and so the guy brought him home.  I gave him his name.  I was a huge fan of the Calvin and Hobbes comic strip and it was the only name that I wanted him to have.  The relationship with the guy didn't last a lot longer and when the guy had to move to a place that wouldn't allow pets, I got custody of Hobbes.  He's been with me ever since. Last night I had to put him to sleep.  And I am heartbroken.

It has been an exceedingly bad two years for me.  I don't really know that there are actually words to describe how difficult things have been or how endless some of these days have seemed, but what I can say is that my two cats made each day more bearable throughout this time.  Hobbes was especially a comfort. He had a sweet, simple, loving spirit and most people who met him, loved him. He was so funny and clownish sometimes, too.  I have hundreds of funny stories about him.  He was with me through college, through my marriage and divorce and moved countless times with me over the years.  He's in most of my memories for nearly two decades.
   
 The last two years weren't easy for him either.  His health had begun to decline and he mourned the loss of my marriage as much as I did because he really loved my ex.  People don't think that animals grieve, but they do.  Hobbes most definitely grieved.  I hated watching how sad he became. For weeks, he looked for my ex.  He stopped playing and ending up staying on my bed, day in and day out, doing little else but sleep.  And he ending up sleeping next to me every single night after my ex left.  Last night was a long, lonely night.

The thing about pets is they tend to be the best of us.  They are unconditional love personified.  They give us the one thing that some of us spend our entire lives looking for in other human beings.  Their love is easily given and the only thing they expect in return is that same kind of love.  There is no judgment from them, no major demands.  They only want us. We are their entire world. 

I'm having him cremated.  I don't know what I'll do with his ashes.  But I couldn't bear to just put him to sleep and walk away.  I didn't want him to just be thrown away.  He was a wonderful cat and was so very loved and was the best pet I've ever had. 

Hobbes, 1994-2013

Starting Over

This past week, I moved for the job I accepted.  Moving day, like all moving days, was long and exhausting.  But the guys who handled my move did a good job and were easy to work with.  I've rented a house just minutes from where I'll be working.  The house is wonderful - I love it and I'm really comfortable in it.  It was built in 1948 and is in a quaint older neighborhood of the city.  It's a 2-3 bedroom, 1 bath with hardwood floors and updated kitchen.  It has a lot of character including an alcove off the living room with lots of built in shelves.  Finally, a place for all my books.  It also has a great fireplace.  The house is really cute and I genuinely like it.

I've spent days unpacking and I will be unpacking and getting settled for weeks to come.  I start my new job on Monday.  I'm nervous about it, mainly because it's not like anything I've done before.  I'll be working for an art museum and my background is in history.  But I'm hoping it will be challenging and fun.  I have no idea what to expect, though.

It's less painful in some ways to be here.  I'm not surrounded with places and memories from the past.  Whatever life I have here will be my own and that's a relief on some level.  Having said all of this, it's weird being in a new place alone. I'm going to miss my friends and the surety of familiarity.  Mixed emotions....

In a few weeks, I start my second class for my graduate certification work.  In the meantime, I'm trying to decide what interests I want to pursue outside of work. 

I don't care how often I've moved or how old I am, change will never be easy for me.  I know I have a period of adaptation ahead.