to be continued...

I got my social security card on Tuesday, at least two days before I expected it. Hooray! I went in Wednesday to get my driver's license. Except for the malfunctioning camera, I was able to get it no problem. I called the Villa's HR department to give them my new license number, triumphant.

HR called me back. They REALLY want me to work for them. Unfortunately, they've just entered a hiring freeze in the agency and can't hire anyone for at least a week or two. BLAH.

So I have to keep waiting, and keep looking, and hope that I don't have to go back to Starbucks just to make it through the holidays.

To be continued...

sweet relief.

I never ended up blogging about last Thursday, but it was the worst day I've had in a while. I got up semi-early to head out to the social security office, only to wait for two hours for them to tell me that they misplaced my new card in the mail (something about leaving the "drive" off the end of my address). That meant that they would have to RESEND my application and hopefully the card would come in 5-10 business days. I almost cried on the spot. But I didn't. I cried out on the street, while I talked to Adam on my cell phone. He gave me a little pep talk, and, encouraged by the SS clerk's suggestion to give the DMV my SS card receipt, I biked on over to the DMV downtown.

Turns out the only day they're NOT downtown is Thursdays. Of course.

I called Adam again and cried.

Then I got back on my bike and headed down South Ave to the Highland park government office, where the DMV actually was operating. There was only one other person in the room, and I felt confident that everything was going to work out. But no, she refused to take my SS card receipt, and blew me off.

I sobbed outside on the phone to Betsy. It was NOT the day to wear mascara, but I did.

So that was an epic fail if ever there was one. I biked over to Matt and Brianne's, where Adam and Matthew were shooting a Go Veg commercial. And I bought a huge order of Sesame Tofu from Ming's. And everything felt better. I met Betsy later at the Memorial Art Gallery, where we saw a really awesome exhibit called Paint Made Flesh. Then we walked over to Lento to have their Buy One, Get One free vegetarian entrees for students. Thank you, AmeriCorps. I had lentil cabbage rolls with chickpea battered pumpkin slices in a tomato and portobello sauce. And I had a yummy cocktail called The Tell-Tale Heart, made with apple cider, gin and crushed cranberries. It was the perfect ending to an awful day.

And guess what?

I called the Villa's HR office today, and Amy told me that there's no rush, just to call her as soon as I have my new license number and they'll bring me in for hiring.

Hallelujah!

So, I have a job, and although I won't start getting a paycheck for a while, I can relax and really enjoy my knitting, reading and cooking that I've been doing during this interim.

I don't know why it seems that bureaucracy has it in for me, but I'm glad that I'm never completely screwed over. Just inconvenienced, frustrated and delayed because of the government's red tape.

(On a slightly political note, Adam and I were discussing how demeaning it is to have to jump through so many hoops to prove that we are full citizens of this country. How many proofs do we need? Birth certificate, Social Security card, Passport, Driver's License, etc. And which of those is least important? The little blue paper card that ONLY has a number, one that is easily memorized, and easily stolen. And how expensive ARE all of these documents? Very. Especially when they have to be renewed or replaced. I feel so much for those who don't have the money to prove their documentation, and those that are treated as less human because they can't prove their identity. No wonder we feel so lost in this world. Our identities depend on little cards and pieces of papers and photographs and numbers.)

conundrum.

So, I have applied, interviewed, and been considered for a job at an agency called St. Joseph's Villa. It's a good position with a good agency with good benefits. Good deal.

Here's my conundrum. I need a "valid NYS driver's license" in order to proceed to hiring. I never got around to getting a new license until I applied for this job. But in order to get a new license, I need my social security card, which I've misplaced. Turns out living in 8 cities, 3 states, and 2 countries in 5 years can make it difficult to keep everything together. So I immediately applied for my SS card, which has yet to arrive. I called SSA, and they said that I should have already received my card, so I could go in to the office and see if they'll reissue one to me. Then I can go to the DMV, get a new license, and start working again.

EXCEPT, tomorrow is f-ing Veteran's Day. The most random of all government holidays. Both the SSA office AND the DMV will be closed tomorrow. So at the very earliest, I could get my new license Thursday. Which means I probably couldn't get in for hiring until next week. And they're already annoyed that I haven't gotten them my new license number.

epic fail.

peter

I remember him standing there like a break in the mist, or the shadow under old trees & I wish I had known then it is the place we cannot go that needs our touch most.

One of Us.

Someday, the light will shine like a sun through my skin & they will say, What have you done with your life? & though there are many moments I think I will remember, in the end, I will be proud to say, I was one of us.

a good reminder

how we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.

[annie dillard]

Life Plan

I asked her what she planned to do with her life & she said she was way beyond that point already. I'm just happy I remember to be there when it happens, she said.

[brian andreas]

Memory

i've always liked the time before dawn because there's no one around to remind me who i'm supposed to be, so it's easier to remember who i am.
[brian andreas]

This month's theme for Soul Matters is "memory." The first part of our assignment is simple: What is your first memory? I've thought about this before, and I always go to the moment when I walked into the living room of what was our new house on Douglas street. I was about three, and I was very impressed by the dark red shag carpeting. The only problem that I have with that memory is that I'm pretty sure it's not mine. My mom used to always tell me that, at that moment, I exclaimed that I wanted the living room to be my room. And so I'm not sure it's authentic. While I thought about this last summer, I remembered the time when I asked my mom how to spell my name. My backcountry crew was asked to recall when we first realized our individuality, and that memory really stands out to me. Understanding that each person has a different name (generally) really confirms that we exist within our own identities. So that's my first memory.

The next part of the assignment asks us to rediscover a memento from the past that has disappeared on the mantle, one that we want to dust off and display once more. I'm not sure yet what I'll choose. I assume it would be some memento from my travels, but perhaps not. I'll have to go through my things and see what I can find.

The third part of our assignment is passing on our memories. That's where this blog (and the other two I have) come in handy. I have plenty of stories that I've accumulated over the years (again, mostly from my travels) and I am looking forward to reading them over and finding ones to share. I also hope to spend a lot more time this month recording my memories here. I really have so much that I need to write about. This is good motivation to do so.

Rev. Forrest Church said, "Who we are today is in large measure determined by what we choose to remember and how we choose to remember it." I think it's important to remember that we are making a legacy of our lives, and that we need not only make wild and beautiful memories, but we need to remember those moments with the dignity and imagination that they deserve. All my most beautiful memories come from moments when I felt awed or inspired by what I saw, heard, smelled, felt and even tasted. Opening to the magic of the moment helps us remember better.

We all have stories, and we should all be story-tellers. What's your story?

Deep Listening

This month's topic for my "Soul Matters" group is Deep Listening. There are three parts to our assignment, and I really haven't done much with any of them. One is to listen to surroundings, to be in a familiar place like the supermarket or the park and to listen to what is going on. The next is to listen to someone close to us, to really listen to what they have to say and to keep them talking, rather than waiting for our turn to talk. The last part is listening to something we don't really want to listen to, be it conservative talk shows or a voice in our heads that has been persistently nagging us. I'm not so good with fitting into every assignment, and prefer to use it as a guide for my own experiences.

I should say that I have listened deeply to someone close to me. On several occasions I focused quite a bit on talking with Adam and Betsy about various things. It's a good reminder to be present during all of those everyday moments. And I do try.

The conversation, though, that really sticks out to me came from the day that I volunteered at our Project Homelessness Connect event in Rochester. AmeriCorps members participated that day in helping the organizers bring social services and agencies to homeless Rochesterians to assist them and provide them with services they need. It was, in general, a very uplifting and heartening experience. But one thing that really bothered me was that many people felt they needed to cut in line or push people around so that they got what they needed. That is totally normal, when so many homeless people have to compete for a place in line for food, clothing and shelter EVERY NIGHT. I just wish that the organizers did more to make sure this was not a "survival of the fittest" type experience for anyone. But it was, and here's my story.

I was an escort for different individuals to help them find the resources they were looking for. Later in the afternoon, I walked around with Mike, a retired Marine who was going through a divorce. He was nice enough, though pretty suspicious of me (or a least uncomfortable walking around with me). It was strange to be helping a man that truly reminded me so much of my dad. We were waiting in line for the barber for over an hour (!!), and had been chatting with another man in front of us, when a 19-year-0ld kid cut in line. Now, we had been waiting for a long time, but there weren't many people in line and it was taking SO long that I can understand why the man in front of us got upset. But he grabbed the kids arm and told him to get back, that we were all waiting in line and that it was rude of him to cut. He was quite angry and the kid got angry too. Eventually, they were yelling at me to do something because I had some kind of authority. But I did not know what to do. So I said nothing. They kind of eyed each other for a while, muttering things, the boy not moving from his spot. The man looked to me again and said I had to do something, and the boy came over to talk to me. He was flipping out, yelling that he was bi-polar and that he blacks out when he gets angry and starts punching people, so that man definitely did not want to mess with him. And I simply said to him that everyone was waiting patiently and would he be okay just waiting in line with me instead. He was a bit hesitant at first, still insisting that he could definitely hurt that guy if he touched him again. But then he just started talking. He told me all about his mental health problems, about problems in his life and past, and he started to settle down. I asked him questions about his life and issues he had, and eventually he was fine. We talked a lot, and he told me everything. Everyone got their hair cut, and no one threw a punch. It was scary, but once I knew what to say, I was in complete control. And I have to think that in a small way I help that boy.

I know that a year ago I could have never stepped in on this disagreement, and I would never have known how to talk to this kid. But after a year of working with teens, I really do know how to talk to them, and, more importantly, how to respect them. They mostly just need someone who will listen to them, not judge them, and offer them advice, not a lecture.

And so, although I make an effort to listen deeply to all aspects of my life, today I am proud that when it REALLY counted, I was there to listen. And it really helped.

<3

Hospitality

I am in a "Soul Matters" group at my church where I meet with a small group to talk about personal, spiritual and universal topics. I joined this group through my "Starting Point" class, which is what made me decide to join First Unitarian of Rochester. Every month, our church focuses on a different topic, which is tied together by a yearly theme. This year's theme is UU values. Some people, even members of UU churches, are under the impression that, in Unitarian Universalism, you can believe whatever you want to believe. Not so. We are tied together by a collection of values that embody our faith in each other and in the time we spend on this earth. So our first topic for September is "Hospitality." For our homecoming service, everyone is supposed to have reflected on something that they need to "welcome in" to their lives, and then bring a symbol of that gift of grace that comes from being open. And in our Soul Matters group, we will have a chance to talk about that symbol and the process of searching for that "thing" to welcome in.

I've thought about this off and on throughout the summer, without ever seriously considering it. But now, as the deadline closes in, I've realized a very obvious "stranger" that I need to begin to welcome in. It's family.

Since I went to college, family has been a somewhat abstract connection to the life I had before I began to travel and transform my life. I went to college close to home, so it seems like I would have remained close with my family, but that's not the case. I talked to my mom on the phone every couple of weeks and to my dad even less. I went home to East Lansing to hang out with friends, go to Hilaire's yoga classes and shop at Barnes & Noble and Urban Outfitters. I saw my mom whenever I went home, and at holidays my whole family would convene for Catholic mass, family dinners and short sessions of "catching up". And then it was off to my next adventure.

In between summer vacation and Christmas, I was traveling to Puerto Rico, Spain and California. I met hundreds of people along the way, made lasting friendships and met curious and fascinating people that dissolved from my life as quickly as they appeared. I had two Spanish families and a "mama Morocco", a college family, a study abroad family, and various other groups of friends that kept me busy. After a year of living abroad, I stopped relying so much on phone conversations and more on myself. It's just how I finished growing up.

What made me realize that it was time to bring family back into my life was thinking about my newborn nephew, Teddy. I have seen pictures of him and even heard him over the phone, but I have yet to see him. He is nearly four weeks old, and I won't see him until he is more than 6 weeks old. And that makes me sad, and disappointed. I don't like that it takes more than a quick drive to see my nephew, and that my mom only comes to visit once a year. There are a lot of factors that make it more difficult than it has to be. I don't have my own car, and I don't have a lot of extra money to spend on plane or train tickets. But it shouldn't be this hard.

Something that has been bothering me consistently is how distant I feel from my brother and how, even though he has a new son, it's not that strange that I haven't called him in weeks. I never sent them a card and I haven't talked to his wife, my sister-in-law, at all. I just feel disconnected. And yet Teddy is my nephew, and I have the privilege of being a very important person in his life. I don't want to be distant from him, to never know much about him or to miss him growing up. There is an obvious connection, though, between how I am involved in his new life and how I have been involved in Patrick's life. Just because he has a son does not mean we are suddenly the best of friends, talk all the time and know everything about each other. And I don't ever see that happening. But I think that I can't be surprised that I am physically and figuratively distant from his birth and start of life.

I talked to my mom on the phone today, and I kept thinking that I had been meaning to call her for weeks now. I haven't talked to Stephen on the phone in a long time, and I hardly even see Betsy, even though I live with her! I get so wrapped up in my own life that I never think to call and catch up with my family. I love all of them and am so happy that they are all doing so well, but it's hard staying in touch with all of them.

I plan on bringing a photo of Teddy to church, a symbol of the gift of family and babies and new beginnings. He is a reminder that family is a gift of grace, and needs constant attention and participation to truly enjoy. Babies are good reminders.