The Worst Phone Call

As a 21-year-old freshly graduated from college, living 15 hours away from my home town, I've had to deal with some of the harsher realities and decisions of life. Some of them seem trivial, like trying to figure out where to buy groceries, or which restaurant is better. Some are harder yet, like which clinic should I go to when I'm sick, or what part of town is safe enough to live in. It's tough to realize that your landlord doesn't care about you, but your paycheck. It's hard to deal with when your neighbor gets their car window busted out. And it's a struggle learning when to stand up for yourself and when to just let it go.

But the hardest part of my adult life were two phone calls...

The first one I received on September 2nd, from my sister. She was crying. 

"Have you heard about Grandma?" she asked.

I experienced that flutter of hope and fear that only comes from the unknown when talking about your Grandma struggling with cancer.

"No," I said.

My sister told me that she had passed away.

I hope you never know what that feels like, but life experience tells me you probably will.

The second hardest phone call of my adult life is the one I can't make.

When I'm driving home from work...

When something funny happens with my family...

When I want to know what the plans are for Thanksgiving...

I pick up my phone, and for a blissful second I forget that I can't make the call. Then I am crashing down at the realization that I can't call... and that I'll never be able to again. I'm crying at the knowledge that no matter who I call that it won't be the same. That who I call might be too preoccupied with their own lives to talk the way that we used to.

I wonder when this feeling will end and when I won't look at my phone and think of calling her. And then I wonder should ever want to forget, because surely forgetting is worse than the pain. 

If I knew then, what I know now, I would have picked up the phone more, so maybe these almost-calls wouldn't feel like lost opportunities.

An inconveniently convenient truth: Cell Phones

I had this post all planed out two weeks ago: I was going to take a weekend away from Nashville, stay in a hotel by myself, spend time in nature, and say goodbye to my cell phone, computers, and television for 48 hours. The post was going to be titled "How to Connect by Disconnecting" and it was going to be an insightful look at how we can form a deeper connection with ourselves and the world around us by unplugging.

After a 36 hour jaunt to Knoxville, I realized that is not the case. At all.

At 10:00 Saturday morning, I went online to book my hotel. I found a small room in a Microtel on the outskirts of Knoxville for half price on Expedia.com. Then, I went to Google Maps, and printed out directions from our apartment to the hotel.

"What are you doing for directions while you're there?" Ty asked me.

What was I planning on doing for directions? I wondered. I was just planning on showing up and asking locals for directions,,, because that always works out well.

Ty convinced me to take his car and GPS so that I could find my way around. By 11:00 I had amended my plans only slightly: I could use GPS over the weekend so I wouldn't get lost.

At 11:30 Ty helped me pack my bags. We packed me a spare outfit for hiking the next day, a cell phone charger (just in case), my laptop (just in case), and my laptop charger (just in case), and my camera, another exception I allowed, so I could document my technology-less trip.

When I was prepared as could be, Ty helped me load my bag into his car, and I sped off toward Knoxville.

At 12:30, I turned off my cell phone.

At 1:00, I wished I could turn it back on.

You see, the drive from Nashville to Knoxville is actually quite scenic this time of year. Their are tall hills covered in thin-trunked trees decorated with leaves of every color. The interstate is two-laned and winding so no ten minutes of driving ever looks the same. Sometimes there are breaks in the forests and you can look out over vast hills covered in green grass and dotted with black, white, and red cattle.

I wished that I could have my cell phone to snap pictures of these beautiful sights while driving by. If I would have had my cell phone, I would have sent the image off in a group text to my three siblings, my parents, and Ty. Dakota and Dad probably wouldn't have replied. Mom would have texted: "Jealous!" Savanna(h) would have sent a weird selfie, and Ty probably would have sent me something sweet.

This time I was alone.

I still hadn't had lunch yet, so when I stopped to get some gas, I didn't look for the nearest Sonic, but instead bought a bottle of water, deciding it was better to wait until I got to Knoxville instead of wasting time wandering around.

After three hours of driving and singing country songs with the radio I arrived at my hotel, checked into my room, and felt even more alone. I couldn't call anyone to let them know I made it. My silence would have to be enough to let them know I was okay.

My stomach was growling at this point, and I almost ordered in pizza so I didn't have to drive around looking for a restaurant. In the spirit of trying something new, I decided to go explore the town. At the second stoplight I came to, I saw a man holding up a cardboard sign reading: "NEED FOOD." He wasn't asking for money or a ride, but people kept speeding on by.

For whatever reason, I rolled down my window and said, "Hey, if you meet me at the CVS I'll buy you some food."

He looked at me and said, "Is it okay if I send my old lady?"

I've never understood why people call their wives "Old Lady" but I don't think of it as a term of endearment. Semantics aside, I said "sure" and made my way to the CVS across the street.

I wasn't quite sure what I was expecting, when I saw this overweight woman in old clothes with black hair dye stains on her hairline walking towards me. She didn't make eye contact with me for longer than a couple of seconds, but was quick to thank me. She smelled like cigarette smoke.

We walked through the store picking some some essentials while we talked.

"We're not homeless," she said. "We get enough money from my husband's disability check to pay rent and utilities, but we just don't have enough money to pay for all the food and diapers we need. We have two girls, and I'm pregnant... Well it was twins, but I lost one."

I apologized for her loss.

"It's okay," she said, "but my doctor told me I couldn't keep working. I was working, but when I lost the one baby he said that I was in a high-risk pregnancy. But my work said they'll take me back once I have this baby."

"Good," I said.

I didn't really know what else to say, so we continued walking through the store. I couldn't imagine what it would be like as a mother of two, with one baby on the way, to be asking strangers to buy food for me... how humbling that must be.

"Do you mind me asking what your husband's disability is?" I asked.

"He can't read or write," she said. "I've been tryin' to teach him, but it's hard."

I nodded. I can barely stand Ty telling me anything about accounting, and I could imagine how frustrating it would be to learn to read and write.

"Did he go to school?" I asked.

"Until the tenth grade," she said.

This puzzled me. How on earth could someone get to the tenth grade without being able to read or write? Most kids by the third or fourth grade can read or write enough to fulfill most entry-level jobs. Honestly, I kind of thought she was full of bologna. What person gets to 10th grade and can't read or write?

When I talked to Ty about it later, he said that happens in lots of inner-city schools. They will push difficult kids through the system even though they can't meet all the standards. And this infuriates me! Yes, students have a duty to learn, but educators and administrators have a duty to protect and fight for a child's education. I wondered how many people wrote this man off as a lost cause, or as a delinquent, or what kind of home life he had... did they know he would be on the side of the road someday? Did they know he would have a wife and children someday?

His "old lady" and I went through checkout and I handed her the bags of groceries.

"I know it's not everything you need," I said, "but I hope it helps."

"We appreciate it so much," she said. "Thank you."

She walked across the street to where her husband was standing on the median. He took a couple of bags from her and they walked back across the road.

I don't know where they were going, or whether he could actually read and write, or if they had children, or what their story is... Reminisce has taught me that every person has a story, and that we shouldn't be so quick to judge. I just feel sad for them, and I hope that they are happy... and if not I hope that they can be happy someday.

I drove off still hungry, and I finally found a restaurant. I ate by myself, and then decided I wanted to find the University of Tennessee-Knoxville and walk around. I was hoping to myself that I could fall in love with Knoxville like I did with Stillwater, but once I got there, it looked just like Nashville. There was a Mellow Mushroom on one side of the street, road construction, and similar restaurants on the other.

Overwhelmed and lonely, I drove back to my hotel and took a nap.

Since it was Halloween night, and I was by myself, I decided to go to a Country Dance Club. I thought it would be nice to socialize with actual humans, drink a beer or two, and maybe even get some swing dancing in!

When I got there, the guy checking IDs at the door almost didn't let me in. It went something like this:

Him: *takes my card, flips it over, rubs his finger over it like he's trying to rub something off of it, tilts it back and forth in the light*
Me: It's not a fake.
Him: *silently fiddling with my card*
Me: Do I not look like I'm 21?
Him: *still fiddling with my card* It's not that. It just looks weird.
Me: Because I'm from Kansas.
Him: *hands it to the guy sitting beside him*
Guy sitting beside him: *looks at it for two seconds* It looks good to me. I'd take it.
Me: *Walks inside and promptly orders a drink just to spite him*

With a drink in my hand, I went and sat at one of the available seats. Since it was Halloween, lots of people were dressed up, but I felt totally exposed. Not because I wasn't wearing a costume, but because I didn't have my cellphone.

It seemed like everyone there was getting on their phones, especially people their by themselves. It didn't seem like anyone was interested in making conversation with someone new. So I sat and watched people mingle and drank my beer. Then I stood, and watched people dance, and drank my beer.

I danced a couple of the group dances, but other than that stayed off the dance floor. Some guy asked me to dance, but midway to the dance floor he ditched me and started making out with some girl dressed as a fairy... I think she must have been a fairy god mother because I definitely dodged a bullet. Then another guy asked me to dance. After one dance, I decided it was time to go back to the hotel.

On the way back to the car, I had a huge spurt of panic: What if something happened in my family and no one could get ahold of me? I didn't tell anyone the hotel I was staying at, I wasn't at the hotel anyway, and no one really had a way of reaching me with my phone off. What if someone called me with their dying breaths and all they got was a voicemail?

I know this sounds ridiculous, but it's what I was thinking. So I turned my phone on, and listened to Ty deliver devastating news about someone in our family. We talked on the phone for a bit, and then we said goodnight. I set my phone on the nightstand, but didn't turn it off.

The next morning, I got up and ate breakfast. The people in the dining room of the hotel were on their computers taking advantage of the free wifi. I sat by myself, enjoyed a breakfast of biscuits, gravy, eggs and sausage, then went back upstairs to pack.

On the drive home I wasn't really sure where I should stop... So I eventually took an interstate exit with a brown sign indicating a dam. Five minutes later I was approaching a great pond creating by a cement damn, surrounded by layers upon layers of multi-colored trees.

I drove up to an overlook and looked out at the damn. I tried to take some pictures of the trees but I couldn't capture how stunning it was in person.

After a few minutes of gazing at my surroundings I found a trail to follow. It looked like not a lot of people took the time to walk it as it was littered with freshly fallen leaves. The only drawback of this was the fact that about every few feet I walked into  a spiderweb... My skin is still crawling.

At last I got back to my car and drove closer to the dam. I sat by the water for a little while thinking about life and love... I'll spare you the retelling of my disjointed pondering. :)

Finally, I was on my way home. When I got home, I picked up my phone and texted Ty. He'd had plans to study at the school library, so I asked him when he would be home... and then I waited.

I didn't feel a rush of insight, I didn't feel enlightened, I didn't feel connected. I felt tired and kind of sad. I don't think my life is too dependent on technology; I've done just fine before, spending weeks at Gram's house without cell phone service or internet... What I do feel dependent on is the way I can connect to others using this technology.

I remember my junior year, as a punishment, my parents took away my cell phone. I know this sounds silly, but that was one of the saddest times of my life. None of my friends could call me, and if anyone came up with spontaneous plans over the weekend, I was left out because they'd also cancelled the internet. Maybe last weekend just brought up memories and feelings of that time...

I guess I don't know. But next time I think to myself that people should be reading a book instead of texting or talking on the phone, I'm going to think again that maybe they are forging a meaningful relationship and developing a feeling of connection... after all... Ty and I talked on the phone for the first six months of our relationship, and look how that worked out.

Why you should be concerned about antibiotic use in your food

Lately the public has turned a very skeptical and accusatory eye toward agriculture, blaming things like pesticides, genetic modifications, growth hormones, and antibiotics for just about every human ailment under the sun.

This reaction is reasonable!

Everyone wants to lead the healthiest and longest life they can, and parents want to feed their children wholesome food and feel good about it. People are right to be concerned about where their food comes from.

Let me first explain what "concerned" means. I went to dictionary.com and looked up the definition of concern. It's an adjective meaning 1) interested or affected, 2) troubled or anxious, or 3) having a connection or involvement; participating. The public should be concerned, as pertains to the first and third definitions. Everyone should be interested in where their food comes from, everyone is affected by how their food is produced, and every person who eats food should be connected and involved in the food production process!

To be effectively "concerned" about where food comes from, it's also imperative to be adequately educated and consider all evidence. Education is an area where both consumers and producers need some improvement.

Here is what you need to know about antibiotics used in food production:

1) Antibiotics are used for "therapeutic" and "sub-therapeutic" purposes. 
Therapeutic means the animal is showing signs of being physically ill. Sub-therapeutic usage of antibiotics is preventative. Producers use antibiotics sub-therapeutically when there is a high risk of the animal becoming ill like times when the diet is drastically changed, when the animals are moved to a new location, or during weaning.

2) Using antibiotics can play a role in weight gain. 
Logic can tell us that because the animals aren't getting sick and dying, producers prevent weight loss which ultimately leads to continued gains. Also a healthier microbial population in the gut can assist in animal digestion. However, researchers haven't determined exactly how or why some animals treated with different antibiotics gain more weight. Just like humans don't gain weight because they take antibiotics, antibiotics aren't the sole cause of weight gain in meat animals.

3) There are no antibiotics or antibiotic residues in your meat!
When a company says their meet is "antibiotic free" it misleads consumers into believing that meat sold other places does contain antibiotics, which is 100% false! Animals treated with antibiotics must have a "withdrawal period." Basically, there is a certain period of time after the animal has been given an antibiotic in which it cannot be slaughtered. At the end of the withdrawal period, there should be no traces of antibiotics in the meat.

4) Using antibiotics does lead to antibiotic resistance.
Unfortunately using antibiotics does lead to antibiotic resistance. That is how nature works. Producers can slow this process down by only using antibiotics when necessary (to keep an animal healthy) and being sure to follow the instructions.

5) The main cause of antibiotic resistance is misuse of antibiotics in people!
When anyone goes to the doctor to get antibiotics, the risk of antibiotic resistance increases. Sometimes people are given antibiotics for viral infections. Sometimes people take their antibiotics only until they feel better and don't finish the round. One example of this is MDR (multi drug resistant) tuberculosis, which evolved as a result of misuse of antibiotics.

6) Prohibiting the use of antibiotics harms animals.
Animal welfare is important to producers for many reasons. Animals that are treated well, fed well, and medicated properly perform better. To ask someone not to give an antibiotic to a sick animal, or to not give an antibiotic to prevent sickness is animal cruelty.

7) Producers work closely with veterinarians to keep animals healthy.
Veterinarians attend eight years (at least) of schooling. Their professional input is highly valued among producers and their scientific training can help insure healthy animals that later enter the food supply.

8) Using antibiotics doesn't increase the amount of antibiotic resistant bacteria on meat.
Some studies suggest that meat from animals previously treated with antibiotics contains less bacteria that meat from animals not treated with antibiotics. Regardless, all of this bacteria should be eliminated by cooking the meat to the proper temperature.

9) If you want to ensure a safe food supply, get involved.
That doesn't mean posting negative articles on Facebook, or blogging about some poorly performed research that supports your views. It means gathering information from every area (producers, veterinarians, universities, public institutes of health and so forth). It means reading research critically and making sure it was performed well. It means starting a conversation instead of starting a fight. It means only using antibiotics when you absolutely need them and making sure you explicitly follow the instructions.

Restaurant chains like Subway, Chipotle, Panera, and many others are capitalizing on consumer fear and ignorance. 
Just like producers, restaurants are trying to make a profit. One example of this is Subway. They came out with a big announcement about going antibiotic free, but later in the fine print, said that antibiotics are okay to use for therapeutic and sub-therapeutic purposes... which is what most producers are already doing.

The point I'm trying to make is this: Your food is safe! The people producing it have to eat too! They care just as much about a safe and healthy food supply as you do. And if you have a question, don't hesitate to ask... but make sure you ask more than one source, and you ask more than once.

Sources
Subway on antibiotics
On challenges of using antibiotics for growth
Antibiotics role in sustaining growth
General information on antibiotic usage
Animals not treated with antibiotics carry more diseases
General information on antibiotic usage 2

I'm not going to pretend to be a professional on this topic, but I did graduate Summa Cum Laude (4.0 GPA) from Kansas State University's College of Agriculture with a degree in Animal Sciences and Industry, emphasis in bioscience/biotechnology. I have been trained to critically read research to determine its veracity. In addition to this, my family members are beef cattle producers. I found the information for this article from the above sources, from personal knowledge gained from raising livestock, and in-class information. If after reading the sources you still disagree with something I wrote or have a question, please send it to me at kelsiestelting@gmail.com. I would love to answer your questions, or direct you to a professional who can.

Mature Love

                Love is such a sought after commodity. People spend their entire lives working to earn it, reading about it, writing about it, dreaming of it, wondering why they don’t have it, and searching for it. It takes so much effort that we’re totally taken aback—shocked even—when we actually see it splayed out before us; raw, vulnerable, all-consuming, and immensely powerful.

                Rebecca is a mother to five, a police officer in a metropolitan school district, and one of my many first cousins. We haven’t bonded much, and our interactions have been limited to hugs and small talk on the rare holiday occasion where happenstance permits us to be in the same location.

                Maybe our personal relationship distance is caused by physical distance, or maybe by age difference, or unique career paths, life choices, stages in life, etc. (Even though I’m sure we could find common ground regarding a certain circular breakfast food/any time of day snack.)

                Regardless of our differences, family and ultimately love brought us together for our grandmother’s funeral. Between the ceremony and the balloon release, Rebecca bravely stood in front of at least 50 friends and family members, and struggled through sharing stories of her childhood experiences with our grandma.

                When tears became too powerful, she struggled to form words. Her sister (my cousin), Isabel, stood, walked down a parting in the folding chairs that formed an aisle, and with a knowing look in her eyes, gave Rebecca a hug and (I think) some strength and support she needed to carry on.

                Once again relentless grief overpowered her speech. This time, her daughter, Madeline, joined Rebecca and embraced her. It reminds me of the time when Jesus mourned Lazarus with Mary and Martha. (John 11) The man with words so important that they’re printed in special ink sat and wept with her. If actions speak louder than words, and Jesus gives the purist form of love, I think both Madeline and Isabel were emanating true love with their brief and quiet gestures.

                Somewhere in the five or so minutes that Rebecca spoke, she said something that stuck in my heart. She said something to the effect of, “I love Grandma, and I love my mom, and I love grandma for the part she had in making my mom who she is.”

                Love.

                I think I know now why those words have had such an impact on me. Not only was Rebecca expressing heartfelt emotion for her mother and grandmother, she was expressing love for grandma in the most mature from I’ve witnessed yet.

                She was saying she loved Grandma—despite her flaws—and she loved her for the way she shaped the world around her. It’s hard to acknowledge that we as human beings don’t simply love someone for who they are; we love them, in part, for how they make us feel. Rebecca expressed such a deep, complex emotion in one sentence. She expressed mature love, in one sentence.

                Some might argue that love isn’t worth the hassle. It’s time consuming, draining, painful, risky. Love leads us to reveal parts of ourselves that are better protected in the inner vaults of our soul. However, there is no risk without reward. Rebecca, Isabel, Madeline, and Grandma proved that all of that risk is worth it for the highest reward.

Just be still.

This post has been a long time coming... And before you brace yourself for some opinionated post that you'll write off (ha, blogging puns) as silly because I'm only 21 and still have lots to learn about the world, just know it's only been a long time coming because I should have written it last week. So there.

If you've been following my blog (Thanks, Mom and Dad!) you'll know quite a bit about my journey towards becoming a writer and my love of the country. Well, it's easy to be a writer when no one knows who you are, and you know you can write basically whatever you want on the internet and no one will care. So these blog posts can be as long and rambling as I wish, because at least I know Ty and my parents will read them. :) The hard part is finding the country.

My husband and I live in Nashville, TN. The "Greater Nashville Area" contains around 2 million people. So, basically you're looking at a 20+ mile diameter that's packed with people. Now you can start to understand why the country and peace I'm looking for is hard to find. In a search for the country, I happened across Long Hunter State Park, one of the many state parks in Tennessee.

Before I go into detail about my escapades out of the city, I need to take a moment to talk about my husband, Ty. He's a pretty cool guy. Want to know why? (Okay, I'm done rhyming... you're welcome.) Ty's probably one of the most supportive husbands there is. He fast-tracked his undergraduate degree so he would be able to move with me. He whole-heartedly supported my "dream" of becoming a nurse practitioner, then whole-heartedly supported my decision not to become a nurse practitioner. He moved half-way across the country with me to a huge city. (Not to mention the fact that he studied abroad in Europe and Central America with me!). He's supported my goals of pursuing writing, he's taken my family as his own, and he's definitely put up with and handled a lot of whining, crying, complaining, sobbing, mess-making, and general hard-to-be-around-ness from me as I work my way through this four month long and counting post-undergrad existential crisis. (Shouldn't I be changing the world by now?) Anyway, Ty is awesome, and not to say we haven't faced our share of challenges as a young married couple and our relationship is all sunshine and roses, but I love him.

Okay, moving on, but still keeping in mind how supportive Ty is, he's also hard working. He's working full time with a realty company helping them sort our their records, and studying full-time as a masters of accounting student. On this beautiful Saturday, Ty was diligently studying, while I was trying to find a way not to distract him. So, I did what any sensible country-girl-who-lives-in-the-city would do: I went on a solo hiking trip.

I'm-hiking-without-makeup-on face.

Long Hunter State Park is about 30 miles south of where we live. My Kansas family is thinking "Oh, just thirty minutes!" No. 30 miles. 45 minutes if you're extremely lucky. So I hopped in the car and an hour later was checking out the trails and the lake.

Here's one of the first views I had. The lake water reflected back the cloudless blue sky, and all I had to do was to sit back and enjoy it.

Which is what I did... from a bed of rocks.

There was this outcropping of stone into the lake, so I (carefully) walked across it to sit by the water.

I saw one bird, which classifies as "wildlife".

Then I got up and walked along a trail. There were a few scary moments when a huge group of men came to the camping area for a picnic, and when I accidentally took a wrong turn and walked through some spiderwebs. But, as Ty says, can't expect to go to the forest and not see any wildlife.

Some of the trail was particularly neat because of the diverse views. On one side of me was thick forest, and the other side a lake framed by spindly trees.

When I got far enough down the trail, I started seeing people less and less. After a while, I saw a bench and claimed it as my own. For the better part of an hour, I sat down and wrote two fiction stories that came to mind. (Later, when I got back home, I edited them and sent them into contests. Fingers crossed for positive results!)

As I walked around the trail, I came to a dock where I saw a woman sitting by herself. If I'm being honest, I was a little irritated. This is selfish of me, but it was such a beautiful spot, and I wanted it all to myself, and here's this woman setting up camp! I quickly shoved those feelings aside and walked onto the dock. Then, for whatever reason, my shy self started a conversation.

Something Reminisce has taught me, is people sitting in calm quiet spots generally have something really profound to tell you. This woman was no exception. In her words: "I come out here because water's a representation of the Holy Spirit, so I can clearly hear from God out here. I really can just hear his voice. He literally tells me to go left or to go right. It's just that simple."

While talking with Leigh, I got that feeling again, like something really profound was happening. I asked her what the most important lesson was that God had taught her. "Obedience," she said. "I've learned that if you have a thought in your heart, God probably put it there. You just need to listen." Of course we exchanged emails, and as I walked away, I promptly burst into tears. If I don't stop crying in public parks, Tennessee might have to send me back home to Kansas.

When I made it back to my car to head home I was tired. I'd just walked for hours, exposed myself creatively through writing, and came face to face with the Holy Spirit. I want to be clear here: God is everywhere. He's in the dry blades of grass, the falling leaves, the powdery dirt on well-worn trails, the rippling water, the expansive sky, the tiny ants, the people He created, everything. But, in the last few weeks, I've encountered him in ways I never knew was possible. I think if more people experienced it this way--or allowed themselves to experience God this way--there would be so many more believers. Either way, it was amazing and I'm forever thankful to have experienced it.

Because this post is a week late, I'm also including some of this past weekend's adventures...

Saturday, 10.24.15

Saturday was mostly a slow day for me, because Ty was working and I was trying to submit more writing to competitions. Saturday night, though, we got some excitement. We have been hanging out with "Cathedral Young Adults" in Nashville. It's basically a group of 20- or 30-something's that go out to eat and have parties together to build a community with our church (Cathedral of the Incarnation). This Saturday, there was a Halloween party... in a mansion.

When we first drove up to this place, I wanted to turn around. I'm guessing this house was over 10,000 square feet, which is a little intimidating considering Ty and I use a cardboard box as an end table. Anxiety and insecurities aside, we went inside... there was beer, so everything was okay. I even made small talk with a math professor and a quantitative psychologist... so there's that. It was more enjoyable than I just made it sound, I promise. 

Sunday, 10.25.15

On Sunday, Ty had a little more free time (or procrastinated some more of his homework). So, we decided to go out to the dog park. The weather was absolutely perfect, and Papi loved it. It was a win-win. Except for the fact that there was a husky/papillon mix (don't ask me how that worked) that was incredibly more athletic than Papi. So, while Papi should have been making friends with his own kind, he was supporting his ego by making friends with reallllllly tiny dogs.

After the dog park, we went to Centennial Park, where there were a bunch of twinkling yellow lights strung up.

Have I mentioned before how much I like Centennial Park?

While we strolled through the park, we happened across a woman who considers herself "quasi homeless" for "Hearts for Humanity". She said that being "homeless" is her down time. She is trying to slow down and reconnect with nature. She says she has a house but she's trying to do without it. However, once it cools down she plans to go get her car, because it might be too dangerous without it. She also said that her husband passed away of leprosy, and that her six children are all "millionaires". Part of me was wondering if she was eccentric, if this was a coping mechanism for being homeless, or if she was bonkers. I think maybe the first one? Logic says she's bonkers, empathy says the middle one, and hope says the first one. Either way, she was a neat lady to talk to. I wish her all the best in her life, and I'll probably swing by the park from time to time to see how she's doing.

In some ways it's been an eventful two weeks... from seeing new parks, to partying in mansions, to meeting an eccentric humanitarian. In other ways, it's been drudged down by the monotony of school and work. I guess for now I'm just hanging on to the excitement in life hoping that it will color my every day perspective.

10 struggles of a country girl living in the city

There are those women, who love feeling the sun on their skin more than they love the fluorescent lights of a shopping mall, who would rather look out and see the plains than see busyness and plans, who would rather enjoy everything the country has to offer than pay for everything the city has to offer...

Whether it's because of school, work, love, or some other reason entirely, some of those women--those true country gals--find themselves living in the city. And while so many people are flocking to the city, their hearts long for home. There are just some parts of city living that don't sit well.

1) Traffic
I mean, really, would you rather see this:

or this?

2) The View
No, not that awful television show.

This is what I'm talking about.

3) Space
Now I love a good pow wow as much as anyone, but it's not physically possible to be 20 miles away from another human being in the city.. and sometimes 20 miles isn't even enough. Everywhere you look in the city, there are people, peoples' things, or ways people have destroyed the surroundings with buildings, highways, parking lots, you name it.

4) What other people think of the country
Most people have no clue what country living is all about... If one more person mentions how ugly/boring Kansas is, I'm going to have to open a can of good, old fashioned, boring country whoop ass!

5) No cattle, no fields, no cowboys
'Nuff said.

7) Nothing to call your own
When you live in the city--especially temporarily--the only thing you have to your name is your car. If you rent, you're living in some sort of awkward situation between staying in a hotel and having your own house. In the country, you probably had a yard, a house you could paint, livestock, pets, vehicles, and whatever else your heart desired/your wallet could afford.

8) Cost of living
Sure, in the country $700 a month could get you a nice three bedroom house with a yard... in the city you get a dinky one bedroom apartment in a huge complex. (Not that I'm speaking from experience or anything...)

9) Anonymity
This can definitely be a positive, but it's also hard when every single person you come across is a stranger.

The friends you make in the country are friends for life.

10) Crime
Remember that one time someone in your hometown got busted for making meth?... two years ago? Well, in the city, crime is real, and it's scary, and it happens a lot more often. No more leaving your car unlocked, no more midnight walks, no more going out by yourself.

Let's face it, there are plenty of perks to living in the city... if there weren't, we wouldn't be living there. But, I know my heart longs for that day when I can have a small place just of my own, where traffic jams will be caused by cows on the road and I can have the wide open sky and the rolling prairies all to myself once more.

On the job training

I've been working full time now for two weeks... and I've learned a lot... about life.

In the first few days, I was trained how to look at letters and decide which department should receive them. I learned about all of the perks of working for a big company (free coffee, nacho cheese, and slushies to name a few). My supervisor taught me how to properly enter private information into the computer system, and has me entering at least 450 records a day. I learned how to send mail back to people who didn't fill out the forms correctly, how to use one of the four printers in the office, and how to properly file documents so my coworkers can scan them. I realized that my reputation/name to the higher-ups is "that-girl-who-can-type-90-words-per-minute". I learned that I am but one cog in a giant machine. I realized that there are also plenty of things I'm still trying to learn.

Like how I'm important to the company. Or what our mission is as a company. Or whether I'm saving the world, like I had been my aspirations as an undergraduate. Or how people can do what I do 40 hours a week for 5+ years.

Don't get me wrong, I am beyond grateful to have a job, and if I didn't have a job right now, I would probably be spiraling down the depressing staircase of self-pity and boredom. My supervisors are kind to me, answer my questions, and one even told me that she and the other supervisors were impressed with my work ethic, which made me smile.

However, working in a cubicle, by myself, not having any contact with another human being, or being able to see the sky, is very difficult. Hence, the other lesson: I learned how to make my work bearable, if not enjoyable. For eight hours a day, while I sit in my 8x8 cubicle decorated with pictures of my husband, cattle, and flowers, I listen to podcasts and TED talks.

By hearing their stories, I learn 1000 lessons, live a 1000 incredible lives, all while working and making money. I've listened to several that have changed my outlook on the future... but let me explain.

I had started to wonder if all people just work jobs so they can get their 40 hours in, pay for their nice house, and watch some TV with actual satellite at night. I wondered if maybe I was expecting too much from my life, and if my high expectations would ultimately lead me to disappointment. And then I listened to this guy...

This guy who said, what's the point? This guy who said, why do what other people expect of you? Why work a job you hate so you can MAYBE get a job you like? Why not do what you would do even if you weren't getting paid, and make that a job? Why not follow your passions? Why not put in all the hard work and face all the challenges, just so you can MAYBE get that job you love?

And I listened to another guy...

Another guy, who said, "Do you think the people who climbed Everest did it to be happy? Their stories are full of frostbite, pain, fear, difficulty breathing. If they were searching for happiness, they wouldn't ever do it again, but they do. They do it over and over again."

So then maybe what I'm looking for is the perfect cocktail--a blend of strife, accomplishment, passion, and curiosity. Luckily, I'm living with someone who has found it... in accounting of all things. Ty had it figured out when he was 6 that he wanted to an accountant. I'm a little slow because I'm 21 and just now realizing/accepting it.

What's the point of this rambling? I guess it's kind of a three part announcement. So here goes.

1) I get free nacho cheese at work, in yo face!
2) Ty is working toward his passions, and has an internship this Spring to help him get there.
3) Come this Winter, I'm going to start writing a book. It will be non-fiction, and fabulous. (One of my favorite words. :)