Native Floridian

A long weekend spent in Orlando is just what the doctor ordered for this frustrated twenty three year old. Friends, family, and time to relax by not doing anything, something Floridians are pretty good at. While I grew up in the DC area, I was born in Miami and have spent a fair amount of time in Florida whether it's been living there or vacationing. I'm learning to embrace my roots there and have taken upon myself the role of Flori-educator. No, we're not all crazy like the Florida Man Twitter feed would lead you to believe, but we are a bit off our rockers. I blame the weather.

Anyways, something amazing I've learned from this past year is that the more I've settled into myself, the less I've needed my external surroundings (city, state, friend group, items owned, etc.) to help me define myself. Moving around and driving cross-country has shown me the beauty of this country and its people, and it has opened my eyes to the reality that I could live anywhere and be okay. I do want to find a place where I want to be and where I feel like I can spread my wings and plant my feet, but I don't need a place like I used to. It's freeing, grounding, and gives me agency to make my own choices. I can select my path and pursue it accordingly.

All this being said, I am thoroughly convinced that the DMV (DC area, since when have we called ourselves this??) is not for me. Not in the slightest. As I've become more authentically me, I've moved internally and no longer desire the busyness of a massive city, the competition of a driven culture, the aggression and energy output of carving out a space for myself, and the need to constantly be entertained by external things. To use my first-day-of-kindergarten phrase, "This is not for me."

There is no judgment against this area, but rather an acknowledgment that I desire to be somewhere where I feel more comfortable. I encountered many difficulties while growing up here and can't discount how worn down I am from constantly reorienting myself out of panic-response neural pathways, which is something unique to me that many people here would not be experiencing. Needless to say, I'm grateful for the opportunity to heal and reintegrate in the place where it all started, but the work is arduous, unseen, and rather lonely, and I look forward to leaving the pressure cooker behind.

My current plan is to return to Orlando to rest and go back to school for massage therapy. I don't know for how long, I don't know where massage therapy will lead, but I really hold to the quote from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, "Not all who wander are lost," and I trust the process and journey enough (having done my own literal one) to take steps now without being able to anticipate or know where I'm heading.

I may not know where I'm headed, but I'm going.

Street art near Union Market

Behold, Union Market, home of a lovely (expensive) home goods store and amazing ice cream

Perfect spring evening on the Potomac

I was in Japan... in Epcot

Reading time by the pool (I recommend both magazines)

My amazing sister and best friend, Tova, in one of my favorite pictures from my trip

Tea and a scone

My family and I at the British tea house in Mt. Dora

The Van and I

I have spent more time than I ever dreamed in a Dodge Sprinter this past week. It’s pretty much a large delivery van that I bring people their groceries in. Among other things it's good for looming over cars and SUVs, exploring the city, and parking illegally while making deliveries.  Seriously, I can’t tell you how much joy it gives me to double park, block alleys, hang out in fire lanes, and park in front of hydrants, all in the name of groceries FOOD.

Side effects of this job include having lots of time to ponder things, which is excellent since I like to live in my head. Recently, I accepted and began to honor the side of me that is bold and speaks. Doing so has opened the door for me to be successful at city driving in the big ol’ van, if we want to be obvious about things, but I’ve noticed internal shifts that go along with it. For starters, I am not afraid to speak up and put limits on my time spent at work, as I’m a lady of leisure and highly value having space and time. I can say enough, delineate the semi-permeable membrane of my boundaries, and respectfully stand up for myself while understanding and responding to business needs.

More importantly though, I no longer feel shame when men holler at me or are rude about my appearance. Instead, I find myself responding to the objectification. I have a voice and, when I feel physically safe, will use it to speak against a culture I often encounter that places excessive value on my appearance and ignores my voice as a woman. I read a spot-on blog post here and am appreciative of the woman who wrote words to the thoughts that have bounced inside of me. I have a desire to be respected and appreciated as a woman, as a human being.

While I put my foot in my mouth often enough and don't really play well by the "rules," this boldness is empowering and feels more “me.". It’s a continuation of the process that began last fall of reconnecting with and reintegrating my feisty inner five year old, and the result now is that I am less reactive and more conscious and precise with my voice. It feels good to honor and cherish an integral part of myself while constantly learning how and when to speak.

Oh, the things you'll think while doing home deliveries.

Parallel parked the SketchMobile. The one I've been driving has logos on it, thankfully.

I'm a sucker for brick, trees, and quaint architecture. I'm loving where I live, I just wish it were further out from DC.

I've gotten into the practice of beautifying with fresh flowers.

Naturally, I'm reading things that involve food and drink

and writing this all from a bangin' coffee shop near my house

while thinking about where I'll go to eat because I'm hungry.

 Speaking of food, thank you Yelp for guiding me to dinner while I was out doing deliveries near Baltimore.
It was exactly as described, a large shack in a strip club's parking lot.

YUMMY YUMMY IN MY TUMMY.

Enough

This word is fantastic because it can foster both peace and security. I can only speak for my experience, but I have found that when I let it permeate my being, I am at ease. I am enough. In a place where I am sensitive to demanding expectations, this word lets me rest gently. Enough doesn't mean perfection, enough isn't controlling, enough doesn't let you off easy, it simply grounds. That's all that's necessary.

Enough also allows me to draw a line around my space, around me. Enough let's me voice displeasure over, for lack of a better word, bullshit, and then move on. Enough creates a semi-permeable membrane around my being that allows me the power to welcome what is good and necessary while rejecting what is harmful, damaging, and counterproductive.

I am enough, just by being. You are enough, just by being. We are enough, just by being.

This is enough for me.
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Now, various updates. I have been living in Alexandria, a few miles from DC for the past month with two lovely roommates. The job situation got a little too exciting, but I start a full-time position tomorrow with a company where I will, among other things, get to drive a truck. Childhood dream, check. Other than that, life moves quickly, and I'm just trying to keep up. I look forward to living somewhere with a slower pace and am missing the mountains something fierce.

If nothing else, I'm realizing how much data I've gathered from wandering the better part of the past year. I look forward to creating/finding/having external stability to match my internal stability, and to not physically wandering the corners of this country. I have, however, loved the cross-country driving, as well as the people I've met and things I've seen. That's another blog post. I manage about one a month. Oh goody.

Stay tuned!

The Capitol Building from the Mall during dusk

The best time to see the memorials is at night. I loved the FDR and Dr. King memorials;

this quote is from the latter.

Spring has sprung in my neighborhood!

 Flowers across the street from an interesting job I was working...

Let's just say it's worth its own post. So funny and so frustrating.

I worked at the US Science and Engineering Festival this past weekend and have learned why the agents in The Matrix were so pissy. Those ear pieces are annoying!

Take a ride on the Magic School Bus! 

Although I'm not part of the STEM crowd, it was interesting to see the breadth and variety of groups represented at the festival, as well as to meet people who were unapologetically excited about what they were doing and what was happening.

I didn't have a chance to really go through and explore the exhibits since I was working, but it was a really unique experience, and I'm glad to have been able to work at it. Among other things I saw 3-D printers in action, learned that Humboldt squids change their coloring to communicate with each other (Squids4Kids at Sanford), and ate copious amounts of brownies in the staff office.

I also accidentally told a woman at the International Women in Mathematics Society booth that I "stopped dealing with math in elementary school." This is a wee bit of a lie because I enjoyed statistics in college, but I am glad I got to be the stereotype they're working to counteract. You're welcome, IWMS.

Gallivanting, Pt. 1

As suggested to me by several people, I'm going to attempt to document some of the tales from my cross-country drives (2 and counting!). This first one was my move to Walla Walla, and the trip was with my mom.

Part 1: Florida to Arkansas

In typical fashion, my plan for driving cross-country was, and I quote, "Well, I'll be in Tallahassee and then we'll just drive this way *diagonal motion* to get to Boise. And I like Denver, so we'll stop there too." My Dad sat me down and helped me plan a route, apparently "we'll just go like this" isn't a satisfactory plan of action.

The first stop after Orlando was Tallahassee to see my lovely sister-from-the-same-mister. During this particular time, I-10 was under construction and a lane was closed. This business of having only one lane open was a theme for the trip, and I think we found one in every state we had the pleasure of driving through.

Next stop, somewhere in Arkansas. With the time frame we'd given ourselves, the goal was to drive as far as possible, preferably near Little Rock. We sauntered through the mountainous Florida Panhandle and I entered new territory: Alabama. It's an interesting state, a combination of Southern hospitality and "GTFO." Highlights include:

The confusion regarding a certain road we took from Birmingham to Memphis. Said road was marked on all maps as state road 70-whatever, but the signage in Alabama proclaimed Interstate 22. Not being sure of what this was, we did some sleuthing to discover that the road  is not currently an interstate but will be once it meets certain guidelines (Wikipedia). This doesn't matter in Alabama where you are on I-22, dammit. In Mississippi, signs along the road lamented, "Future home of the I-22 Corridor," but didn't seem to challenge the federal government.

Did I mention the I-22 signs in Alabama were also massive?

The towns of Guin, Gu-Win, Twin, Glen Allen, and Brilliant. In case you were wondering, Guin and Gu-Win are right next to each other and pronounced the same way.

We stopped at Corky's BBQ in Memphis for dry rub Memphis BBQ. It. Was. Amazing. Seriously, those ribs are one of the best things I've eaten, period. We got them to-go, parked at a gas station, rolled down the windows, and began to chow down.

Suddenly, cicada. This beast came flying in, caused a ruckus, and then ended up near the bottom of my door. I opened the door to shoo it out and, satisfied once I couldn't hear anything, shut the door and rolled up the windows, ready to enjoy my ribs in peace. My mom said she thought it was still in the car, but we couldn't hear anything and the topic was left at that.

The following morning we walked out to the car to see a large cicada dying in my seat. Not only was my mom right (as she often is), but I was worried I had suffocated the cicada by sitting on it. The cicada episode is one of the highlights of the trip, but I promise it only goes uphill from here.

Dinner is served.

The cicada that spent its final days near an Arkansas parking lot. RIP