I am change resistant. I think this is a bit like flame retardant. Flames are bad and you want to retard them. Somewhere in my mind I think change is bad and you should resist it. It is like I tried to explain to Boo the other day when he was telling me about something that he thought I preferred… I had to explain to him, “Boo, I prefer the crazy, expensive, trendy (insert item – clothes, car, make-up, major, dishes, bedspread, color) but instead I buy the practical (see previous insert.)” He seemed slightly unsure, but feigned understanding.
Needless to say we are in the vortex of change. I moved home from Germany a year ago because of circumstances too vast to enumerate here, also, I changed and have Blog boundaries, so if you want to know about the reasons you can come have a bottle of Trader Joes wine with me and I will tell you them until you don’t want to hear anymore. Let’s be honest, I don’t want to hear them anymore. However, the move home did give me Boo. Who knew in the midst of the worst of me splattered across two continents gossip, er, prayer chains, he would still love me for exactly what I was, am, and am hoping to become. Well, that was providence if I have ever seen it. Alas, it was a change.
Here’s the thing. The aforementioned stuff didn’t magically disappear from good counsel, therapy, attempted restitution (still in process), growth, etc. I am still me, and he is still him and all that stuff that we were before – wonderful and weird – now resides under one roof. We approach it one day at a time and hope for – DUN DUN DUN – change. Insert screams of horror.
Some of my changes have been good, more frequent showers. Some of them have been less good, avoiding running like the plague. (Too hot, too cold, too humid, too early, too late, too lazy) But one of the biggest is occurring right under your nose.
I am going back to school.
No seriously. After years of fantasizing, I mean, talking about it, I am going to do it. Talk about a change. I have no idea what I am going to do for work, which has me in an anxiety ruled panic (how’s all that faith business working out for me now – more Paul, less Mint.com) This is what I hear in my head, “Yes, I’m 33, and I am looking for a 2 day a week job, no weekends.” And then I hear Cruella DeVille cackles and laughter. Cest la vie. I will endure laughter and facing poverty for the sake of not being degree-less for the rest of my life. I am doing this for me.
As far as changes go… I mean, 33 and back to school. Not quite the girl I was at 18 when I moved into El Conq at SDSU and promptly named the 2nd floor the Fiesta Floor and looked at my Father like he had three heads when he wanted me to view the “quiet floor” – uhhhh no thank you. Now I am the quiet floor, I only have a quiet floor. I have a quiet house with a live in tutor who keeps talking about study techniques and note taking skills. What are those? Also, where are Jason Jefferson Jackson and Erik Kuchel who were my next door neighbors at El Conq – I single handedly blame them for my poor grades at SDSU – always “making” me go to TJ and Beta parties. Geez – what jerks. Now I my roommate is the king of good influence and I am pretty sure that failure is not an option.
So, I guess change is not as bad as catching on fire. However, despite all the good changes happening around here, I still sense that I am change resistant and have the anxiety to prove it. People tell me regular exercise can really help with that stuff…