Why I Would Never Want To Be A Realtor

Whoever said househunting is fun should A) never look with my husband and B) experience a "short drop with a sudden stop."

For weeks Brad and I have looked at homes in the Greenville area. Homes are aplenty for buyers with the overloaded, adjustable-rate mortgage-flooded market as it is. However, in order to not join the weary, woebegone foreclosed masses, we have to look at homes in a certain price range. They are many. They are varied. Some should just be raized and put out of their misery. Others will not come down low enough for us to afford it comfortably (damn them).

We got really close last week. At least, we thought we had. We put an offer down. It was reviewed. The treat was held before us and we were salivating. We went to Lowe's and Home Depot and thought of every conceiveable way we could improve THAT house. Then, after a few counter offers, they refused to go any lower, we refused to go any higher, and that, my friends, was "The End" of that.

So, now we're back to hunting. And it's exhausting. Who knew that just looking at houses could be so tiring? It's absolutely annoying to be so concentrated on one objective ALL THE TIME!!!!!

All I want is a few quiet, uninterrupted weekend hours to sit somewhere with some coffee and a good book to escape reality. Is that so much to ask?

On a better ending note, the musical Spamalot is coming to Greenville soon and I got some premotional coconut-flavored lip balm today that promises it was not tested on either African or European swallows. I'm immensely pleased by this.

My Thought for the Day

"Closer To Fine" - The Indigo Girls

I'm trying to tell you something about my life
Maybe give me insight between black and white
The best thing you've ever done for meIs to help me take my life less seriously,
it's only life after all

Well darkness has a hunger that's insatiable
And lightness has a call that's hard to hear
I wrap my fear around me like a blanket
I sailed my ship of safety till I sank it,
I'm crawling on your shore.

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains
I looked to the children, I drank from the fountain
There's more than one answer to these questionspointing me in crooked line
The less I seek my source for some definitive
The closer I am to fine.

I went to see the doctor of philosophy
With a poster of Rasputin and a beard down to his knee
He never did marry or see a B-grade movie
He graded my performance, he said he could see through me
I spent four years prostrate to the higher mind, got my paperAnd I was free.

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains
I looked to the children, I drank from the fountain
There's more than one answer to these questionspointing me in crooked line
The less I seek my source for some definitive
The closer I am to fine.

I stopped by the bar at 3 a.m.
To seek solace in a bottle or possibly a friend
I woke up with a headache like my head against a board
Twice as cloudy as I'd been the night before
I went in seeking clarity.

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains
I looked to the children, I drank from the fountain
There's more than one answer to these questionspointing me in crooked line
The less I seek my source for some definitive
The closer I am to fine.

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains
I looked to the children, I drank from the fountain
There's more than one answer to these questionspointing me in crooked line
The less I seek my source for some definitive
The closer I am to fine.

We go to the bible, we go through the workout
We read up on revival and we stand up for the lookout
There's more than one answer to these questionspointing me in a crooked line
The less I seek my source for some definitive
The closer I am to fine
The closer I am to fine
The closer I am to fine

I've had really interesting conversations about what is "right" and what is "wrong lately." What is "black" and what is "white." And centered in these conversations is the idea of, what is our responsibility to ourselves, our families, our communities, our country and our world.

We seem, as a country, to want definitives. As Americans, we don't like having to take a "side." That would require an action on our part. We'd rather passively accept what is spoon-fed to us and then forever gripe about the wrongness of the people doing the feeding. We don't want responsibility.

At the same time, we don't want people forcing us to do one thing or another. We demand absolute freedom and make a mockery of conventions.

Over the past several years, I've seriously been looking at the world outside of the lexicon in which I was raised, and I still haven't come up with a "definitive."

Today, this song struck a chord with me. Because for once, I feel like it's okay that I don't have a definitive answer. And I might just be better off without some.

Bah Humbug!

I am eternally grateful that I don't live in Hawaii. Christmas would be a real bummer there. It's almost painful to listen to Christmas carols when it's freaking 80 degrees outside!

So much for Frosty!

*Disclaimer: for those of you who are up North and suffering from cold, snow, ice or all three, I apologize my Southern climate is confused as to what time of year it is.

Cow Pastures and Billboards

I was surfing the blog world of some of my friends' friends, listening to some swingin' jazzy Christmas music, and ran accross a blog that made me think. He was talking about forgiveness. It's such a maldefined word these days. It's elusive. It's concrete. It's oppressive. It's easy as pie. It's wiping a slate clean. It's lording superiority. The list goes on and on.

The forgiveness he was talking about is the Christian definition of forgiveness, which has gone through so many translations, who knows what the truth is. Is it the ancient Arabic definition - selflessness and a sense "justice" has been served, or is it the Greek - "ethos" and "pathos?"

I'm thinking both have their points and both define forgiveness - if forgiveness can actually be encompassed by a definition.

I was particularly struck by the author's struggle with other people's definition of forgiveness. I cannot even begin to say how much I struggle with this myself. The South is not a geographical area that espouses forgiveness. It espouses piety, selflessness, sacrifice and self-soul-beating for "evils" thought, committed or yet to happen. If John Calvin were alive today, he would be ecstatic with the churches of the South. Their congregations pulse in time with Calvinism. You are worthless. You are nothing. You are horribly, definitively, eternally wrong and will continually do wrong. Your only aspiration can be to TRY to rise above your sins. You MUST forever be praying for forgiveness - but you'll never actually receive it because you're in a cycle. And don't think, even for one nanosecond, that God loves you as you ARE. You are the disgrace he so nobly chose to redeem.

Ugh! What rot!

My definition of forgiveness is based on acceptance. Accepting that we are not perfect, but profoundly desired after by our Creator. He created each of us as unique, individual spirits to reflect His prism being. We are part of a portrait so large, no canvas could capture it. He revels in our differences, for they reflect His. Why is acceptance so hard to accept? How does this fundamental fact go so wrong for so many? It's baffling to me.

Don't get me wrong. I quite frequently fight with all the different sides of me. I'm a different person day to day sometimes. But why deny all that God embodied you with? Your soul - strange as it may be to other people - is God's "precious."

I am at odds with most churches in my area. I'm too accepting. I love people for who they are, not who they pretend to be or wish they could be. I easily "forgive" people their faults and most of the time don't even think they're faults. More like, lapses in essence of being. People have imitation vanilla moments, but usually return to their pure vanilla selves - eventually.

I'm a freakin' Times Square billboard in a cow pasture! Everyone around me follows the crowd and behaves all meek and mild, and I stand out brilliantly different.

I quite enjoy that - most of the time.

I just wish I had more billboards to hang out with. At least they wouldn't leave a trail of "patties" in their wake.

Dictionary Petition

How do you define yourself? On your own? Through your job? Through your spouse/family? Through your friends? Through your neighborhood? Through your church?

I am questioning the definition of me these days. I could, at one time, clearly articulate who I was. I was a loving, giving, empathetic, British-literature-loving, Scotland-obsessed, Christian woman with a strong will, direct purpose and a creative soul. I had passions and followed them. I had nothing to stand in my way of where I wanted to go, and yet, I often didn't go. I was always the sweet one; always the first one there with a kleenex box and an open shoulder. I was also the bold one - taking on grad school with a creative writing degree. What sane person chooses that?

I did. And I gloried in it. I relished the fact that I was certain in what I wanted and where I was going.

THAT person has . . . slipped away. In her place is iRobot. I go through my Chrysler Plant day, performing the motions and accomplishing one task at a time. No real variety. No strong desires pushing me forward. Just a sense of "Must Do This."

Must be perfect at work. This is huge and overwhelming and slowly poisoning everything creative in me. Work is the same monotonous routines with extremely detailed rules that must be followed to the letter or someone could end up in prison. At least 40 hours of my week is cast into the void and every day numbs at least .5% of the creative side of my brain. It holds me in its Raven claws: Creativity - "Nevermore". And as if that isn't bad enough, I am incessantly, painfully aware of the fact that my job is what is keeping not just me, but my husband, afloat. He gets to have the fun, creative job, and mine is the one that really pays the bills.

Must be perfect at home. I take care of all the bills, all the cooking, all the cleaning, all the grocery shopping and I keep track of every event that goes on or will go on. I'm a drone at work and then a drone at home.

Must be the perfect wife. Must have the perfect body with the latest fashion and flawless hair and make up. Must smell nice at all times. Must stand properly and sleep properly and heaven forbid I should change anything about myself without consulting either a professional makeover artist, or my husband. Sweatshirts can only be worn to football games and Addidas pants can only be worn when ill or working out. Even pjs must be "in style."

Must be Southernized. Must have correct manners and opinions and be completely narrowminded when it comes to Christianity. If someone tells you non-stop you're going to Hell for doing pretty much anything outside of breathing and prayer, that pretty much takes the joy out of belief. Must read only the Bible, Max Lucato and definitely Billy Graham. Must NOT like Harry Potter. I could burn at the stake as a heretic for this.

Must. Must. Must.

My natural instinct at this point is to chuck it all. Just leave it all behind, go somewhere new, and re-define myself. That would be the easy way. It's changing IN the environment in which I've somehow become entrenched that is climbing Everest.

After all of the above, I will say this. I have retained one aspect of my former life: hope. I cling, rather tenaciously these days, to the 1/4 inch twig on the side of Everest. I HAVE to believe that I can find "myself" again. That no one's opinions of me matter, except for those of my Heavenly Father. Those matter a lot.

So, how are you defined? And are you happy with Webster?

I'm petitioning the OED (Oxford English Dictionary) board for a new, 2008 definition of Heather McMullin. They have more authority than Webster.

What a Girl Wants . . . and what she can Afford

It's been awhile my friends. I am sorry for that. August was the single busiest time in my entire life (and I count that over my final semester in Graduate school). If I wasn't working at work, I was house hunting. If I wasn't househunting, I was taking care of errands that needed to be done at home. If I wasn't doing errands, I was somehow sleeping. All communication with friends and family pretty much came to a hault. I hated that feeling most. I feel guilty being the "estranged" one.

Anyway, now that a new girl has FINALLY replaced my old position at work, my life should start to get easier. That and stopping the house hunt.

Yes, it was a hard decision to make, but my husband and I decided that we were financially unprepared to buy a house. We kept having arguments over money and mortgages and down payments (lack thereof) and we weren't sleeping or eating or even enjoying breathing. It was not a pleasant month.

So, after a lot of thought and disappointed hopes on both sides, we have decided to wait until next year to buy a house. In the meantime, we are going to live as if we have a mortgage and put the extra money into savings so that when we are ready to buy, we will have a downpayment. It will mean changing our lifestyle and not doing as much stuff, but in the end it will be worth it. Nothing like a cold, hard slap in the face by the reality of finances to make you evaluate your life. Makes me realize that no matter how much I say I'm not materialistic, I am not that different than most of the American public - to my shame.

Now I'm having to evaluate what I truly want and how I can afford it. I want to go to a beach. I want to go camping. I want to go to my friend Amber's baby shower. I want to go home for either Thanksgiving or Christmas. I want to spend more quality time with friends I have here (or at least developing some friends here). I want to enjoy life more simply and not feel pressured by outrageous demands on my time and on my emotions. I want to feel content and happy again.

Some of this cannot be bought. What is associated with money, I have to weigh. I am sorry to say that if I am to spend any holiday time with my family, it will come at the expense of my friend's baby shower. I am truly sad to miss that. I want to be everywhere for everything, but at some point, I have to say no. It's especially hard because I'm a people pleaser and it bothers me to no end when I have to disappoint someone or many people. I can only hope to be understood and forgiven. And someday, when expenses are not quite so tight, I will make it up to them.

If I go on much longer, I'll border on the macabre, so I'll stop. But my brain is still going. Thanks for letting me get some of the weight off that particular organ.

Epitome of Irony

"Timing is everything" people say.

This week - that was true. And it was all completely ironic.

Last Friday, I was informed that my co-worker Alison is leaving for another job. No one had a clue she was looking, and it was especially funny to me since I had just had a job interview myself on Thursday evening.

Monday morning, after 3 years of slavelike servitude, I was promoted to Alison's position (Administrative Assistant to the Vice President). I couldn't say no - it would look suspicious - and I had heard nothing from my interview (which was incredibly weird, by the way).

Moving on. Tuesday morning, I get a call from the school I interviewed with and I'm offered a position there. Didn't really know what I'd be teaching, but a teaching job nevertheless. I asked to have some time to think about it and I asked for phone numbers of some of the teachers in the English department so I could speak with them about teaching at Wade Hampton (again, my interview was very weird and I needed more info).

So, I spoke to the teachers (all lovely people, by the way) and they told me I'd be teaching 10th grade. 10th grade. Did I say 10th grade? Yeah. 10th grade. It's a MAJOR testing year for students in high school. I've pretty much always been opposed to the current testing system. I got online and checked out some practice tests for these 10th graders in SC. Yep. Definitely don't like the testing system.

So, after several hours of thought and sitting on the fence (both jobs were now offering the same pay), I decided that all my work over the past few months to teach high school was a bit of a waste because I really, REALLY, would rather teach college. That's just where my heart is. I thought my heart was just in teaching, but it really is teaching a certain age. Plus, I like having more freedom. I'm not too keen on America's current education system. I can't really condone entering it. I'd fight it every stinking day, and I wouldn't last long. What can I say? I've become a non-conformist.

So, this morning, I officially said no to the teaching position. I will stay in "the job from hell" for awhile longer. At least until I can get back into a college teaching position (which can't possibly happen before January at this point) or something better comes along. I have learned the hard way to wait for exactly the right thing. It will eventually happen. I just need patience.

If only I had more of it most of the time.