Where Did The Time Go?

Have discovered most difficult part of writing a blog: remembering to actually write the blog.

You would think that in four months of unemployment, I would have time to write additional blog posts, and you would be absolutely correct.  However! I have not managed to remember to actually update this poor neglected blog.  Sorry, blog.

In my last post, back in January, I mentioned that I had applied for the dream job. Have since applied for the dream job twice more and finally landed it! Hurrah! Now I just have to wait for the paperwork to get filed, the drug test to be scheduled, and all of the other hoops I need to leap through in order to actually go to work.  Annoying? Mildly.  Worth it? Absolutely.  Further proof that my mother was, in fact, correct when she constantly harangued us with the whole "Patience is a virtue" shtick.  Point one for mom.

In my free time, I have continued to take the Creative Writing class, which I wanted to do during my time as a hold in the Army.  As I mentioned last post, the only class I needed to earn my AA was Creative Writing.  Nothing like a sign from the heavens to make you a little happier about taking a class.  (If you have never taken a Creative Writing class, I highly suggest it.  It has made me a better writer, a better story teller, and taught me how to get those creative juices flowing.)

Speaking of creative juices, once those juices start flowing, it isn't restricted just to writing.  Next thing I know, I'm gardening, I'm making sure my peas are climbing their trellis correctly, I'm starting a gardening Instagram account, I working on my photography skills, I'm looking around the island for things to get involved in... Creative juices are fuel for the body.  This extra pep in my step helped me out drastically.

Getting out of the Army was difficult.  At times, it was flat out painful.  You think you have the next three years planned out, you're going to be moving to the coast, you're never going to have to live with the parental units ever again and BAM!  Suddenly you've got the knees of a forty-year-old, you're back home in the smallest town in the world, you're unemployed, and have no idea what to do.  It's disheartening.  It's miserable.  To be honest, for awhile I was pretty darn content to wallow in my misery and glare at anyone who tried to cheer me up.  I knew that the best way to combat that was to get on a normal sleep schedule and have something to look forward to that would get me out of bed in the morning.
One Saturday morning, I managed to wake up around eight.  Compared to my usual noon-ish wake ups, this was practically a dawn rising for me.  I sat up, looked at the yoga mat in the corner of my room that I had impulse-bought on Amazon a few weeks prior, and decided to actually go to yoga.
Shakti Yoga Studio in Key West is on one of the busier streets, has no parking lot (but plenty of street parking nearby), and doesn't look like much from the outside.  Walk inside, and you're in a little Indian-inspired oasis.  I walked through the doors and felt my stress go down.  I did one class (my second yoga class ever) and promptly purchased a month of unlimited classes.  I was at Shakti three or four times a week, I was sleeping better, and I wasn't wallowed in misery.  I wasn't wallowed in anything.  Finally, after two months of growling at the world, my mind was blissfully calm.
Has yoga been a magic cure?  No.  I still have bad days.  Heck, I have bad weeks.  But I finally know how to combat it.
All of us deal with stress at some point or another.  All of us handle it differently: some work out, some require meds, some just wallow until it lessens.  I can't tell anyone how to handle their stress or how to combat anxiety or depression, but I can say that nothing lasts forever and eventually it will improve.  Maybe not today, maybe not next week or next month, but someday it will get better.  The only thing constant about life is change.  Keep that little hope alive, and you'll make it through.

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

-Emily Dickinson

Until I write again,

Sam

Home Sweet Island

Returned to the island late on the Sunday before Thanksgiving and managed to surprise the daylights out of my parental units, caught of video naturally.  Spent the holidays bouncing around some of the largest cities in the country before returning back to my humble island paradise.  

The dream job has been applied for, but in the meantime I've been spending my days trying to make the most out of unemployment.  Hair care trials, gardening, cooking lessons, smoothie mixes, tea brewing, ruck marching, learning how to actually use my DSLR, volunteering, college applications, redecorating....

If the Army was good for anything, it certainly taught me how little I actually need in my closet.  Purging has been the activity of choice as of recently.  Redecorating has also been a high priority.  Going back to the room I grew up in was not exactly triumphant.  In fact, it felt rather depressing.  No one wants to live at home at 23 when just a few months prior they were convinced they were in a wonderful job and would never have to move home again.  However, I take heart in the fact that this very situation has turned out well for others, like Justin Halpern of the Sh*t My Dad Says fame.  

Spending day after day sleeping in, wearing sweats constantly, and focusing most of my energy on watching every season of The Killing and Sherlock (both of which I most highly recommend if you have any sort of brain and like puzzles), I eventually realized that I felt exactly the same way I had during summer breaks from high school.  About a week ago, I realized that the reason I felt like I was in high school was because I was in a room I decorated in high school.  

Thus, the plan was struck: to make myself feel like a grown-up, I was going to make my room look like that of a grown-up.  Throw pillows and paintings from Ross, candle holders from Pier One, and a coverlet from Amazon got me a new color scheme and breathed life back into my room.  Now I can listen to Ella and Sinatra without having to ignore the stuffed teddy bears and Beanie Babies on my shelf.  Tawdry historical romances with names like "To Seduce a Duke" and "The Highlander's Prize" have been replaced with "What I was Doing While You Were Breeding" and "How to be a Hepburn in a Hilton World".  The nail that once supported my high school project now hangs a golden map of the Western Hemisphere.  Little things that change the look of the room entirely.  Now to figure out what to do with the giant Victorian dollhouse...

Overhauling the room is just the first step.  Next stop is to overhaul the wardrobe.  I've come to notice that the girls' whose styles I often admire most never wear t-shirts.  Ever.  When it's cool, they were cute sweaters and designer flannel and cute tops.  When it's warm they wear flowy tanks and tops and all sorts of delightful summery things, none of which involve the typical t-shirt. So, the next step is to turn all of those t-shirts into a quilt of some sort and replace them with classy outfits.  The goal is to have people envy my style.  Why envy what is so cheap to have?  

Hobbies are the other new addition to my life, in an effort to fill the void left by the constant shenanigans of the Army. After having dozens of minions/siblings filling all of my time, I have found that I need a new way to fill my days.  At the risk of sounding terribly uptight, I spent a decent amount of time yesterday with my family's gardener discussing herbs.  As it turns out, this is the perfect weather to start growing herbs since it's chilly by Florida standards, highs in the low seventies, lows in the mid sixties... The parsley will likely die when it gets warmer, but the basil and mint will soak up as much water and sun as we can give them.  Perfect for pasta and mojitos.  

Nothing like a good college class to burn up the time as well, and as it turns out, the only class I require for my AA turns out to be the one class I wanted to take when I got home: Creative Writing.  That being said, the creative juices have been flowing like Niagara and here is the product of that, along with the two short stories written for class.  If you have never taken a Creative Writing course, I would highly suggest taking one as if brings a little extra umph to your writing.  

Off to buy more basil, mint, and other things that make me feel mature.  

Ciao

Sam