Well, I guess I'm back.
After an almost three year hiatus, I decided I'm going to start blogging again. Why? The other day I decided I needed to delete something from this blog. I logged in, found the post and prepared myself to delete it. In the end, I decided not to, because good or bad, it happened. That's the purpose of a journal. You're supposed to chronicle the highs and, occasionally, the lows. If you feel so inclined.
Regardless, here I am. I ended up going back and reading all the way to the start of this journal. I haven't read through the other yet, but I will probably get around to that sometime this weekend. As I read through, each entry sparked dormant neurons, reminding me of where I was and what I was feeling at the time. It was at that moment that I realized I haven't written anything in three years. Those are three years that are simply missing. I don't have the synaptic kick starters to help remind me of the things I've been through. Kind of scary. Three years that I may mentally never get back.
So that's why I'm back. I have to remember who I am. It's worth it. At least I think it is.
Anyway, I've been through a lot in the last three years. All while not doing anything special. Working for The Alexander City Outlook was a monumental mistake. Most of which I take credit for blowing, though there was some other blame to spread. But I have to do the adult thing and accept responsibility for my actions. Something I have to continually convince myself of every time I think about my time there.
I quit working for Elmore County Schools because of how I was continually shortchanged paycheck to paycheck. I started working for Autauga County, and between Marbury and Prattville High Schools, I've done as well as can be expected from a job befitting my position in life.
I also admitted something to myself that I had been emotionally battling for years. No, I'm not gay.
As I read through everything from the five years I continually updated this thing, I realized how much of a misanthropic ass I was/am. Part of me thinks that part is never going to go away, but I do feel as if I've grown a lot as a human being. I guess that's what adulthood does to you-- forces you to conform to "polite" society. My god, how I have mellowed (and become more and more jaded) on almost every topic. Part of me wonders where that young firebrand went, but the other part of me is glad that pompous ass is pretty well buried.
The funny thing is, there are two or three journal entries pertaining to that subject-- the level of my maturity. During college I realized how immature I was during high school. College during my post grad. I just want to shake my head at what I considered "mature" at each moment in time. In five years I'll come back to this post and probably realize the same thing.
And Jesus Christ, how I whined about moving to the Northeast and being with Lindsay. After my stint in Maine, I realized how-- in the long term-- anal retentive that area of the country is. Sure, I think it's a pretty cool place to visit-- that is, if you don't long for a slower pace, but still want to remain in a larger city. I just choose not to live by a pace like that-- a pace that doesn't allow for relaxing. Even leisure activities felt like a chore when I was living there.
On the Lindsay front, she and I reconnected about a year and a half ago. We didn't talk for a long time. Not because we were mad, but because we simply drifted apart. I'm not in love with her anymore. I still desire her friendship, not out of some melodramatic sense of longing her sway seemed to have over me, but because we have a mutual understanding now. I date, she dates. We talk when the situation arises.
Oh yeah, I've also lost 60lbs. I've got a goal to lose 75 total, so I'm on target for a payoff by my 30th birthday this September. I was sick of being a lard ass. Baby steps, really. Not just on the subject of weight loss, but in general.
About two months ago, my next door neighbor was murdered. She dragged herself across the main road at the entrance to my neighborhood and died on someone's doorstep. I didn't know what happened at the time, but I distinctly remember hearing the gunshots. Truth be told, I hear gunshots almost every night, so I didn't think too much of it. I live in a bad neighborhood. Two days later, during my post-work 5k run, I ran into Melissa McKinney and Matt Bamberg from WSFA. I first met Matt during my days in Alex City, so it was kind of nice to catch up.
He asked me if I knew anything about the murder. "Murder?" I asked, "What murder?" He explained the situation to me and I said, "So that's what those gunshots were!" I got interviewed, explaining what it was I knew (which, to be honest, wasn't much).
When I told my mother, she proceeded to freak the hell out. She told my aunt, who also proceeded to freak the hell out. Yeah, the same aunt who has been giving me grief for the last few years about being a screw up. I guess that incident pulled the wool from her eyes and she realized that I've been limping along here, digging a deeper and ever deeper shallow grave. Since then, she's bent over backward to try and help me move.
So I'm headed back to Tuscaloosa the first week of June. Right after the school year ends. I have to finish my remaining obligations. That's a new adult thing I'm trying to do these days. Anyway, she volunteered to pay off an outstanding student loan that was hindering my return to the Capstone. She's also financially committed to helping me find an apartment and fund the actual move itself. Blew me away.
The immediate goal is to finish up a few history classes, an economics, civics and geography course, along with a couple of education courses so I can get my class B teaching license. Not that I plan on becoming a teacher, but it's there if I need it. Something to hold me over professionally until the time when bigger goals can be achieved.
The purpose of which is for me to start working on my Master's Degree. I'm reverting to my original love, prior to journalism-- history. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I do want to teach, but I have zero desire to teach public school. Trust me, I've been through enough in the last few years to exclude that possibility.
In the end, I never want to stop the personal learning journey, and becoming a professor is pretty much a given. I've always been fascinated by the 20th century. Growing up in the 80s, I remember seeing things like the fall of the Berlin Wall and the stand in Tienanmen Square. Basically, the whole Cold War intrigue thing always gets me thinking. So the goal is to get my MA, then get my PhD. My personal focus will be on propaganda used by both sides-- the Soviets and the West-- but specifically on how the Soviet Union viewed the rest of the world. As of yet, I have not been able to articulate a specific thesis topic, but I've got the kernel for it.
I'm not sure where this educational journey will take me, but that's the goal. It's the thing that makes the most sense to me-- compared to all of the half-brained schemes I had over the course of writing this journal.
The logistics of it, however, are still up in the air. I don't want to stay in Alabama-- which is nothing new. Last summer, I went to San Diego to visit Scott before he left for Bahrain. BJ was already in Afghanistan at that time (though he and I have grown apart in the years since). I enjoyed myself immensely. I think I want to move to California. I've also been thinking about Oregon. Just somewhere out west. That level of pace I was longing for, that I couldn't find in the Northeast-- I found in California. Land of the lotus eaters.
Now, whether that means getting my MA at Alabama or not is the question that remains unfulfilled. I'm not sure if I want to get my cert in education, then move and get my MA somewhere else, or if I want to stick it out at UA. If I do stick it out, a one-year commitment will stretch itself to three. Unsure if that's what I want at this time. Unlike my younger iteration, I don't plan on chafing against my personal status quo. I'm just going to go with the flow and see what serves me the most when the time comes. But god knows I don't want to stay here any longer-- a feeling which has never gone away.
Damn. It's almost midnight. I never expected to write this much. Hello big block of text. I guess, for better or for worse, I'm back, and here I shall remain. I'm not entirely sure if anyone will read this-- which it's fine if they don't-- I just need to remember. It's revealed itself to be important.
Regardless, here I am. I ended up going back and reading all the way to the start of this journal. I haven't read through the other yet, but I will probably get around to that sometime this weekend. As I read through, each entry sparked dormant neurons, reminding me of where I was and what I was feeling at the time. It was at that moment that I realized I haven't written anything in three years. Those are three years that are simply missing. I don't have the synaptic kick starters to help remind me of the things I've been through. Kind of scary. Three years that I may mentally never get back.
So that's why I'm back. I have to remember who I am. It's worth it. At least I think it is.
Anyway, I've been through a lot in the last three years. All while not doing anything special. Working for The Alexander City Outlook was a monumental mistake. Most of which I take credit for blowing, though there was some other blame to spread. But I have to do the adult thing and accept responsibility for my actions. Something I have to continually convince myself of every time I think about my time there.
I quit working for Elmore County Schools because of how I was continually shortchanged paycheck to paycheck. I started working for Autauga County, and between Marbury and Prattville High Schools, I've done as well as can be expected from a job befitting my position in life.
I also admitted something to myself that I had been emotionally battling for years. No, I'm not gay.
As I read through everything from the five years I continually updated this thing, I realized how much of a misanthropic ass I was/am. Part of me thinks that part is never going to go away, but I do feel as if I've grown a lot as a human being. I guess that's what adulthood does to you-- forces you to conform to "polite" society. My god, how I have mellowed (and become more and more jaded) on almost every topic. Part of me wonders where that young firebrand went, but the other part of me is glad that pompous ass is pretty well buried.
The funny thing is, there are two or three journal entries pertaining to that subject-- the level of my maturity. During college I realized how immature I was during high school. College during my post grad. I just want to shake my head at what I considered "mature" at each moment in time. In five years I'll come back to this post and probably realize the same thing.
And Jesus Christ, how I whined about moving to the Northeast and being with Lindsay. After my stint in Maine, I realized how-- in the long term-- anal retentive that area of the country is. Sure, I think it's a pretty cool place to visit-- that is, if you don't long for a slower pace, but still want to remain in a larger city. I just choose not to live by a pace like that-- a pace that doesn't allow for relaxing. Even leisure activities felt like a chore when I was living there.
On the Lindsay front, she and I reconnected about a year and a half ago. We didn't talk for a long time. Not because we were mad, but because we simply drifted apart. I'm not in love with her anymore. I still desire her friendship, not out of some melodramatic sense of longing her sway seemed to have over me, but because we have a mutual understanding now. I date, she dates. We talk when the situation arises.
Oh yeah, I've also lost 60lbs. I've got a goal to lose 75 total, so I'm on target for a payoff by my 30th birthday this September. I was sick of being a lard ass. Baby steps, really. Not just on the subject of weight loss, but in general.
About two months ago, my next door neighbor was murdered. She dragged herself across the main road at the entrance to my neighborhood and died on someone's doorstep. I didn't know what happened at the time, but I distinctly remember hearing the gunshots. Truth be told, I hear gunshots almost every night, so I didn't think too much of it. I live in a bad neighborhood. Two days later, during my post-work 5k run, I ran into Melissa McKinney and Matt Bamberg from WSFA. I first met Matt during my days in Alex City, so it was kind of nice to catch up.
He asked me if I knew anything about the murder. "Murder?" I asked, "What murder?" He explained the situation to me and I said, "So that's what those gunshots were!" I got interviewed, explaining what it was I knew (which, to be honest, wasn't much).
When I told my mother, she proceeded to freak the hell out. She told my aunt, who also proceeded to freak the hell out. Yeah, the same aunt who has been giving me grief for the last few years about being a screw up. I guess that incident pulled the wool from her eyes and she realized that I've been limping along here, digging a deeper and ever deeper shallow grave. Since then, she's bent over backward to try and help me move.
So I'm headed back to Tuscaloosa the first week of June. Right after the school year ends. I have to finish my remaining obligations. That's a new adult thing I'm trying to do these days. Anyway, she volunteered to pay off an outstanding student loan that was hindering my return to the Capstone. She's also financially committed to helping me find an apartment and fund the actual move itself. Blew me away.
The immediate goal is to finish up a few history classes, an economics, civics and geography course, along with a couple of education courses so I can get my class B teaching license. Not that I plan on becoming a teacher, but it's there if I need it. Something to hold me over professionally until the time when bigger goals can be achieved.
The purpose of which is for me to start working on my Master's Degree. I'm reverting to my original love, prior to journalism-- history. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I do want to teach, but I have zero desire to teach public school. Trust me, I've been through enough in the last few years to exclude that possibility.
In the end, I never want to stop the personal learning journey, and becoming a professor is pretty much a given. I've always been fascinated by the 20th century. Growing up in the 80s, I remember seeing things like the fall of the Berlin Wall and the stand in Tienanmen Square. Basically, the whole Cold War intrigue thing always gets me thinking. So the goal is to get my MA, then get my PhD. My personal focus will be on propaganda used by both sides-- the Soviets and the West-- but specifically on how the Soviet Union viewed the rest of the world. As of yet, I have not been able to articulate a specific thesis topic, but I've got the kernel for it.
I'm not sure where this educational journey will take me, but that's the goal. It's the thing that makes the most sense to me-- compared to all of the half-brained schemes I had over the course of writing this journal.
The logistics of it, however, are still up in the air. I don't want to stay in Alabama-- which is nothing new. Last summer, I went to San Diego to visit Scott before he left for Bahrain. BJ was already in Afghanistan at that time (though he and I have grown apart in the years since). I enjoyed myself immensely. I think I want to move to California. I've also been thinking about Oregon. Just somewhere out west. That level of pace I was longing for, that I couldn't find in the Northeast-- I found in California. Land of the lotus eaters.
Now, whether that means getting my MA at Alabama or not is the question that remains unfulfilled. I'm not sure if I want to get my cert in education, then move and get my MA somewhere else, or if I want to stick it out at UA. If I do stick it out, a one-year commitment will stretch itself to three. Unsure if that's what I want at this time. Unlike my younger iteration, I don't plan on chafing against my personal status quo. I'm just going to go with the flow and see what serves me the most when the time comes. But god knows I don't want to stay here any longer-- a feeling which has never gone away.
Damn. It's almost midnight. I never expected to write this much. Hello big block of text. I guess, for better or for worse, I'm back, and here I shall remain. I'm not entirely sure if anyone will read this-- which it's fine if they don't-- I just need to remember. It's revealed itself to be important.