Friday, July 23, 2010

What am I doing?

Several times in the past week or so I have audibly said to myself, "Seriously Amanda? What the crap are you doing?" A few examples:

The other night I was lost, like really freaking ridiculously lost on the crazy web of interstates and highways that surround the heart of Kansas City (KS and MO). I was trying to get to a Sseko sandal party (can you tell I want friends?) and as I dutifully attempted to follow my google maps directions I got sucked into the vortex of interstates 35, 29, 635, 70, 670 and highways 71, 56, 69 and 40 I was spit back out way west of the city. By the time I realized this I was 20 minutes late and had been taking the wrong interstate for most of the trip. I sped back in the opposite direction at speeds I didn't know my '93 Grand Am could handle, got sucked back into the vortex and was spit out east of the city. Way east. I was in Independence and had put 60 miles on my car before I realized what had happened. My car does not have air conditioning. I hadn't eaten all day. I was 45 minutes late for an event I had probably driven right by. I was hot and tired and hungry and just plain pissed off.
So I swore. Loudly. For a long time. I said words I don't think have ever crossed my mouth. And then I ate a cucumber and some baby tomatoes and headed back toward the city with which I now have a rocky relationship. I continued to soar at speeds my car has never before reached, because there were people, potential friends, food, wine and sandals waiting for me somewhere in Kansas City.
I reached my destination an hour late. I bumped the rear of another car as I tried to parallel park. A group of five black women watched me from the front porch of an apartment. When I got out one of them said, "Honey, you know you hit that car," only the intonation was more along the lines of "Oh no you di' nt" (she didn't snap but I think she wanted to). I looked at the bumper. There really wasn't any damage. Really. I said as much. "Do you know whose cars that is?"another asked. A wave of fight or flight washed over me, as if something dreadful would happen if I were to just carry on. So I got back in my car and drove two blocks out of the way to park elsewhere. As I walked toward the house I wondered who I thought I was and what I was doing breaking laws, swearing like a sailor and driving like an idiot in the middle of the midwest.
I walked into the house an hour and fifteen minutes after the "start time" of the event. I still caught a lot of it and the hostess was very kind. There was still plenty of bread and mini quiches, several wines, Guinness chocolates, blackberries and chocolate-covered pomegranate seeds (all of which I over-indulged in as if I were making up for lost time).
On the way home I drove the speed limit.

The next day there was a job fair in Overland Park. I dressed as professionally as I could considering that I haven't shaved my legs for three weeks (thanks for that challenge Ellen), I left my suit in Lincoln and I've been working with teenagers all summer. I emptied my laptop carrying case, stuffed it with a legal pad and pens and pretended it was a briefcase. Five minutes before I planned to leave my office I decided to print off some resumes. This is where it gets tricky. In my office there are two computers. One of them is fast, the other ridiculously slow. They connect to different printers. They use different internet systems. One of them reads my flash drive, one of them doesn't, and they don't get along with one another particularly well. It took me nearly 25 minutes to find, send and print a document. And then there was traffic.
On reaching the job fair I was quickly under-whelmed (or maybe just disgruntled) by the companies and jobs represented. Selling insurance? Making calls for career services? Customer service for home mortgages? Working for Chipotle? Are these really my only options? I get flushed just thinking about paying my insurance, why would I want to work with it? I can't be a career counselor. What kind of career counselor goes to job fairs with no idea of what she wants to do with her life? I don't know what a mortgage is and quite frankly I don't want to. I did have a good chat with the guy from the jewelry store and ended up with a free tote bag from Chipotle (an organization that I learned is all about being eco-friendly and using local and organic produce), but at the end of the day the only thing I really wanted was to go back to college. What did I think would happen if I moved to Kansas City and just "looked for a job" with no idea of what I'm even qualified to apply for?

That night I helped out with the last night of VBS at one of our two church sites. My car had been volunteered to transport equipment from one site to the next. Baskets of t-shirts, large rolls of blue tape, boxes of school supplies and several large inflatable bees filled the back seats and trunk of my little red car. As a walked up to the main doors with my arms full of baskets and attempted to grab for the handle I lost one of bees that was tottering on the top of the pile. I made several additional trips - each more awkward than the last - and sometime in the middle wondered what I must look like hauling boxes of donated school supplies in my patched up jeans, pink flip flops and "Bee a Believer" t-shirt. Who do I think I am? An el. ed. teacher? I didn't go to school for this. I didn't plan this into my future. What am I doing here?

And then there was last night when I came home around 9:00 p.m. and thought that this would be the evening that I actually went to bed at a decent hour so I could get my butt out of bed in the morning and go for a run. I might grab a snack first, but that was it. Then it was off to bed. I opened the fridge and noticed a container of strawberries that hadn't been touched for a week. I decided to clean them, quarter them and move them into a tupperware. Then I cut up a whole cantaloupe. And cleaned the grapes. And the blueberries. And then I made two loaves of banana bread. And cleaned my toilet and my shower and the sink and mirror. And I vacuumed my room and made my bed and reorganized my closet. And then, just for good measure I decided to finish a movie. I have a writing project due in two days that I haven't begun work on. I have 8 weeks to get in shape for a half marathon. I made no progress on either and I still didn't go to bed until 1:30 in the morning.

Similar things happen all the time, and I'm not entirely sure what to do about it. I don't really think about how I'm spending my time. I just do. Or I don't. And then I look at what I've done and what I haven't and how crazy early in the morning or late at night it is and I ask myself...what are you doing with your life?

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