I don't even know if people blog anymore...

But as a newbie in a different part of the country, for some reason, I'm hopeful that it will make me feel closer to some of my faraway friends.
I've had so many thoughts recently about moving and my life in San Francisco, that I've figured I need a space to write them and remember them.  Picking up and moving across the country without a job or a place to live with your significant other forces you to grow in ways that you never thought possible.

Here is something that I'm learning about myself right now:
I have to be independent and make my own decisions, whether or not everyone who cares about me in my life will agree with me.
I don't want to be so overcommitted in this place that I lose sight of who I am and what I care about.
I have been, still am, and always will be a people-pleaser.  It's hard to say for me to say no to people or that I don't agree with them in some way.
I need sand and sun, to be warm, most of the time.
I like having creative outlets.  Recently, I find myself craving to create, but I don't even know what that looks like when all of my boxes are jumbled together in a friend of a friend's garage.
I care about education.  I think that I still want to teach even though I had such a traumatic experience last fall and am hopeful that I can feel redeemed doing it once more.
I like to read, a lot.

And of course, what I've learned so far about Texas:
People are either shocked or supportive when they learn that you just moved here from San Francisco.  Shocked as in, "How could you ever leave such a beautiful place?" and supportive as in, "Why would you ever want to live in California?"
Life is slower-paced and waiting at the DMV can still take a long time.
Roads are named FM and RM (farm to market and ranch to market).
Everything is cheaper than California.
It is 80 degrees outside most days in February, but people still dress as though it is winter.
People drive their cars right on the beach.
The grocery stores have everything you've ever wanted or needed to buy.
There are movie theaters or drafthouses where you can order beer and food! from your seat.
Food trucks stay parked in one place, they don't leave.
Everyone waves to each other.

Everyday I feel like I realized one hundred more things about myself that I knew were there before but didn't acknowledge.  All of this peace and quiet by the lake has gotten me to reflect on this recent turn of events.

Purpose(ful)lessness

Two months since the last blog post.  A lot has been swimming around in my head, as I packed up one classroom, unsure of where I'm headed next.  Decided to drive cross-country in June.  Celebrated the annual traditions of May- my birthday and those of close friends, bachelorettes, and graduations.  All of that and opening my life up to someone new in the process.
And the 11 days that I've had of summer so far have already taught me a lot.  That I know myself now well enough to know what I need.  As a good friend put it recently, "Meg, you are surprisingly self-aware."  The to-do list that constantly scrolls in my head is never going to get done.  I'm not going to accomplish everything that I want to this summer.  But it may get shorter and I'm going to focus on relationships and spending time with people.  I'm going to practice being in the moment and enjoying being home on a cold, foggy Monday afternoon with my boyfriend watching "Girls."  Or Tuesday morning in bed with Blue Bottle coffee and my dog curled up at my feet, with the potential of the day ahead of me.  I'm not going to spend every free second I have feverishly trying to find a job and looking to see if the latest email I sent produced anything like a teaching job for next year.
I'm going to trust.  Trust that something will work out for a job, will work out in my relationships.  I am not going to let anxiety rule my life this summer.  I'm going to experience life- go to the Kabuki spa on Friday, hike Mt. Tamalpais on a weekday, and go to an art exhibit on a Thursday afternoon.  As one of my favorite authors, Shauna Niequiest wrote,

You may feel right now quite uncertain about the future, and you’re anticipating that one day, things will stop feeling so scary and foreign. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, especially on such a happy day, but that feeling will never come, not when you start your job or find your spouse or buy a home. That wiggly, sometimes scary feeling like anything could happen and you don’t totally know what’s next, that feeling is called life, and it would be best for you make friends with that feeling, because it will be with you for ever. It would be best as well for you to remind yourself that you’re not the only one feeling it. We tend to believe that everyone else has the answers to the most important questions, but I have it on good authority that everyone else is just as scared and uncertain as we are.

I haven't blogged for a month.

And I really don't know exactly why. I think somehow I've gotten lost in the day-to-day and the fun and excitement of starting something new. I have days where I let nine and almost ten-year-olds get the best of me, and I think that I can't get up the next morning and do it all over again. I also fasted on rice and beans for a week, which made me realize in more ways than one how dependent on food I am to survive each day. I also observed Holy Week in new ways, combining the fast with services each day. I started realizing that I've had a dog for over three months and I haven't killed him yet- somehow he's still thriving. And I drove my car over 4,000 miles in three months, heading to Portland and back.

So I guess there have been some reasons.

On the way home from Tahoe

I get an anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach. Usually it's because I'm leaving the excitement and enjoyment of dance parties, skiing, and enjoying nature and friends behind. But this time it was different. I was in control of how I was feeling. I was feeling anxious because of a midterm I had to take, a job I have to find, a meeting later with someone one-on-one that felt like it was holding expectations.

I could let myself feel sorry for myself: that I had to come home and take a test, make sure that my dog was taken care of, and then somehow muster up the energy to be fun and social at the end of the day, even though all I wanted to be was watching a TV show with some of my good friends on their couch. But I didn't. I came home, I faced my fears, and finally the pervasive anxiety is diminishing. I don't know how to let it leave every time, but this time I figured it out.

CNY 2012

I've never marched in a parade before. I used to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade while growing up and one year I was lucky enough to go with my parents to New York and see the floats up close.

Yesterday, I experienced San Francisco in a way that I never had before. I got to march down Market Street, up Kearny, into Chinatown, with my students. They were the dragons and I, as one of the adults, was the flames. I had friends watching from Macy's department store windows and high hillsides, shouting "We love you Meg" with bullhorns. I got to dress up in costume, entranced by the way that the city was glistening in red and gold around me. The year of the dragon, 2012.

Tribute while lonely

I've been feeling lonelier than usual lately- it must be all of the puppy training and nine-year-old life that I immerse myself in each day. So, it came as a surprise when I got an email from my friend Pryor who I feel is a kindred spirit (also feeling lonely right now) that she wanted to do a blog post on me. I'm thankful for who she is as a person, our friendship, and for her new blog.

Here goes:

Tribute #1

If you have read The Hunger Games then you may be a little bit confused. I’m using tribute in the traditional sense of the word. For example, I’d like to paytribute to so-and-so. On second thought, maybe I am referencing The Hunger Games a little since I’m using tribute as a noun instead of a verb. No matter. I’d like to pay tribute to some tributes.

Here in blog world, and internet world in general, its very tempting for “me, me, me” to become the focus. (I’m realizing that is okay and good to talk about myself. I’m learning to trust that people care and want to know what is going on in my world. After all, I like reading my friends’ updates/blog posts, etc.) Okay, enough of that, I want to pay tribute to my girlfriends. I want to pay tribute to those that I love, those that have impacted me for good, and those that have blogs. (I may expand to non-bloggers, too. We’ll see.)

{I thought about doing this before I moved to a place where I had no friends. Now that I’m in this place not only do I hope these posts will a. encourage those in which I pay tribute to, but also b. make my heart glad by remembering those that I love and c. prevent loneliness.}

Tribute #1 (for real now)

Meg Garner.

Friendship Bio: I met Meg in San Francisco in 2007. At the time, she worked in a call center for a high-end fashion company (not really her thing). Now, she’s in her first year as a licensed/certified (I’m not sure the proper way to refer to an official teacher) elementary school teacher (very much her thing). She has a new puppy, a new job, and is still living in SF.

About Meg: Meg is a giver, I’m not sure that she would call herself one, but its true. She gave me my first pair of knitting needles and my first skein of yarn. She gave me an easel when I was on a painting kick. As an artist, her giving and creative nature compliment each other very nicely.

Meg taught me to knit. This has proved very beneficial to me since I have now made this hobby slightly profitable. Also, I have enjoyed passing time in the car, making something out of nothing, giving gifts with an extra special meaning, and teaching others to knit.

Giving. Artistic. Creative. Meg is also SPASTIC in the very best sense of the word. She has so much energy bottled up inside of her – its infectious. When she dances, I want to dance. When she’s going to a new show/restaurant/street fair, I want to tag along. When she is excited about something, I want to get in on that thing that she’s excited about, no matter what it is.

Now, let’s hear from Meg herself.

What is your greatest strength?

Hmm… while talking to my friend Adam at a party last night and explaining to him the joys and troubles of raising a puppy, he told me that I always have a propensity to bite off more than I can chew. I think that this is a strength and weakness: I’m up for anything all of the time and open to new people and experiences, but at the same time I often will feel overwhelmed after I’ve taken it all on. A lot of teachers I know just teach and that’s enough- they don’t have a social life or middle school girls that they mentor or host for people at an apartment without a sink. But, I don’t think that I would want to live life any other way.

Describe your perfect day.

My perfect day is one that I’m constantly tweaking. But, I think that it would start with a walk at Land’s End with my puppy Levi. Something art-related would definitely be involved- be it an independent movie, listening to live music, a trip to a museum, SCRAP, or a thrift store to come up with creative ideas for a new project. Other people would definitely be involved- good friends of course and there would be good food and drink too. Some kind of social gathering at night involving dancing would wrap it up nicely.

What’s your favorite book?

I’ve been reading more now since I’m sharing my love and enthusiasm for reading with my students each day during the curriculum we use. I don’t know that I have a favorite anything most of the time, but I just read The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides and loved it. I’m a big Shauna Niequist fan too.

Describe how we met.

Well, this is one that I remember pretty clearly. You met my friend Rachael first at Young Life and I was with her when we met up with you at Hardly Strictly Bluegrass four and a half years ago! You were wearing overalls and were with Wimberly, who had a pink tutu on and was hula-hooping. I just knew that we would be friends.

What hobby/ activity are you interested in learning and why?

I would really like to learn to play the guitar because I think that it would be something great to do with my students- just busting out in song when they are being unruly.

What is the reason you started a blog?

Well, it first started with a book idea about my adventures living in France. I had some free time when I first moved to San Francisco, thinking that I could use it productively and record my European experiences while they were fresh in my mind. The book idea never came to fruition, but it was my first blog post.

I started a blog because for some reason I believe that I have experiences that no one else has and that I want to share with other people. Who else can say that they overloaded themselves with groceries at Trader Joe’s, parked up a hill far away, and then ended up just shoving the shopping cart in the bushes? Or that they made their own muppet in New York and dressed up as her for Halloween, more for herself than her students? Peace, love, and happiness was one of those phrases that I was obsessed with in middle school- I had necklaces, t-shirts, you name it. Now, my fourth graders love the same thing and I laugh about it every time I see them doodling it on their papers.

What is the reason you have continued your blog?

Again, similar to the reason above. I know that my mom reads it. And that people like Pryor (who I don’t get to share my life with on a daily basis but who I still want to be up on my adventures) read it. So I keep going.

Here’s to Meg!

From Mindy's new book...

Getting a dog this week has made me much less fearful of commitment, talk about a lifelong one, a one that wakes up at 2 in the morning whining, and needs constant TLC. Now, I just need to find someone who is willing to do the same thing.

Why You Need A Man, Not A Boy | Mindy Kaling via Glamour

Mindy Kaling’s book is still not available til November (sigh) but Glamour has featured a chapter on their website. If the rest of the book is as good as this, my excitement level has risen! Here it is!

Sometimes I eavesdrop on people.

I could rationalize it—oh, this is good anthropological research for characters I’m writing—but it’s basically just nosiness. It also helps me gauge where I’m at: Am I normal? Am I doing the correct trendy cardio exercises? Am I reading the right books? Is gluten still lame? It was through eavesdropping that I learned that you could buy fresh peanut butter at Whole Foods from a machine that grinds it in front of you. I had wasted so much of my life eating stupid old already-ground peanut butter. So, yeah, I highly recommend a little nosiness once in a while.

Recently I listened in on two attractive thirtyish women talking over brunch. I heard the following:

Girl #1 (pretty girl, Lululemon yoga pants, great body): Jeremy just finished his creative writing program at Columbia. But now he wants to maybe apply to law school.

Girl #2 (tiny girl, sheet of black hair, strangely huge breasts): Oh, God.

Lululemon: What?

32D: How many grad schools is he going to go to?

Lululemon: I know. But it’s not his fault. No publishers are buying short stories from unfamous people. Basically, you have to be Paris Hilton to sell books these days.

32D: For the 10 years that Jeremy has been out of college doing entry-level job after entry-level job and grad school, you’ve had a job that has turned into a career.

Lululemon: Yeah, so?

32D: Jeremy’s a boy. You need a man.

Lululemon did not take this well, as I’d anticipated. I felt bad for Lulu because I’ve been Lulu. It’s really hard when you realize the guy you’ve been dating is basically a high schooler at heart. It makes you feel like Mary Kay Letourneau. It’s the worst.

Until I was 30, I dated only boys. I’ll tell you why: Men scared the sh*t out of me. Men know what they want. Men own alarm clocks. Men sleep on a mattress that isn’t on the floor. Men buy new shampoo instead of adding water to a nearly empty bottle of shampoo. Men make reservations. Men go in for a kiss without giving you some long preamble about how they’re thinking of kissing you. Men wear clothes that have never been worn by anyone else before.

OK, maybe men aren’t exactly like this. But this is what I’ve cobbled together from the handful of men I know or know of, ranging from Heathcliff Huxtable to Theodore Roosevelt to my dad. The point: Men know what they want, and that is scary.

What I was used to was boys.

Boys are adorable. Boys trail off their sentences in an appealing way. Boys get haircuts from their roommate, who “totally knows how to cut hair.” Boys can pack up their whole life and move to Brooklyn for a gig if they need to. Boys have “gigs.” Boys are broke. And when they do have money, they spend it on a trip to Colorado to see a music festival.

Boys can talk for hours with you in a diner at three in the morning because they don’t have regular work hours. But they suck to date when you turn 30.

When I was 25, I went on exactly four dates with a much older guy whom I’ll call Peter Parker. I’m calling him Peter Parker because, well, it’s my story, and I’ll name a guy I dated after Spider-Man’s alter ego if I want to.

Peter Parker was a comedy writer who was a smidgen more accomplished than I but who talked about everything with the tone of “you’ve got a lot to learn, kid.” He gave me lots of unsolicited advice about how to get a job “if The Office got canceled.” After a while, it became clear that he thought The Office would get canceled, and by our fourth and last date, that he clearly thought it should get canceled.

Why am I bringing up Peter Parker? Because he was the first real man I dated. An insufferable yet legit man.

Peter owned a house. It wasn’t ritzy or anything, but he’d really made it a home. The walls were painted; there was art in frames. He had installed a flat-screen TV and speakers. There was just so much screwed into the walls, so much that would make you lose your deposit. I marveled at the brazenness of it. Peter’s house reminded me more of my house growing up than of a college dorm room. I’d never seen that before.

Owning a house obviously wasn’t enough to make me want to keep dating Peter. Like I said, he was kind of a condescending dick. But I observed in Peter a quality that I knew I wanted in the next guy I dated seriously: He wasn’t afraid of commitment.

At this point you might want to smack me and say: “Are you seriously just another grown woman talking about how she wants a man who isn’t afraid of commitment?” Let me explain! I’m not talking about commitment to romantic relationships. I’m talking about commitment to things—houses, jobs, neighborhoods. Paying a mortgage. When men hear women want a commitment, they think it means commitment to a romantic relationship, but that’s not it. It’s a commitment to not floating around anymore. I want a guy who is entrenched in his own life. Entrenched is awesome.

So I’m into men now, even though they can be frightening. I want a schedule-keeping, waking-up-early, wallet-carrying, picture-hanging man. I don’t care if he takes prescription drugs for cholesterol or hair loss. (I don’t want that, but I can handle it. I’m a grown-up too.)

I know I’m only marginally qualified to be giving advice. I’m not married, I frequently use my debit card to buy things that cost less than three dollars, and my bedroom is so untidy it looks like vandals ransacked the Anthropologie sale section. I’m kind of a mess. I did, however, fulfill a childhood dream of writing, producing and acting in television and movies. Armed with that confidence, alongside a lifelong love of the sound of my own voice, I’m giving you this bit of wisdom: When you turn 30—maybe even before—a fun thing to try is dating men. It’ll be like freshly ground peanut butter, times a million.