Oh Foot. :-)

Anytime I want to use the computer with internet, I have to allot a good half hour to fight with the router before I can actually get internet connection between it and the modem, and then more fighting to have a wireless signal actually transmitted thereafter. After all that, my previously planned blog topic is somewhat sidelined by my desire to rip my router out of the wall and smash it against various surfaces in the office. That would at least stop the high pitch screech of noise that it gives off regardless of its functioning. But I won't.

So today was a pretty good day despite not sinking my teeth into a delicious chicken burrito with rice, corn salsa, cheese, sour cream, and black beans. Instead, I baked cookies, as the temperature outside wasn't going to cause us to heat stroke inside if the oven was actually used. It stayed overcast in the 80s and rained occasionally. It was magnificent. I had a couple good phone conversations, and then some good fun eating cookies with Joe...which subsequently led to a sugar crash and nap. Awesome.

But then in the middle of a great day there's these moments where being a mid to late twenty something just freaks me the fuck out and then I start wondering what am I doing? This came about when Joe and I were talking about our siblings after receiving our familial updates. One of Joe's brothers is a pilot CPT in the Air Force as well as some sort of inventor now and the other is a physics genius whose possibilities are endless. My sister is of course beginning dental school and is making business ventures with her husband that should set them up for a pretty good future. Um, then there's Joe and me. Joe is doing well, and his (our?) future is bright but requires waiting another couple of years before being truly "fruitful." My future is sort of blank, as I just quit my shitty social work job and have no desire to return to the field. So depending how you look at it Joe's an enlisted Army grunt who hasn't had been promoted since joining in 2007, and I'm unemployed (retired).

Yeah, I know - the above is some defeatist bullshit. And, it's okay if my calling is to work with shelter animals, wear tapestry smocks and sweaters while I drive around a 1980s van to pick up abandoned dogs. Okay, that might really be my calling, but maybe I can make it a little more glamorous? Eh? Seriously, this goes back to my eternal problem, about which I'm constantly writing, making proclamations that I will do better and think better. I do try, but then I get jealous...and bitchy. I'm genuinely happy for all our siblings; I'm just frustrated that I still don't have my shit together and can't seem to just be happy with what I have. I think it's partially a product of age and partially a product of not properly using my resources.

I think the person in my family (and in my whole life for that matter) who did the best at being happy and being at peace was Oma. I wish I could talk to her now and learn more about her outlook on life when she was my age and how she handled struggles, etc. Of course that information would probably just be validation that I'm not an asshole and am in fact normal, as I'm sure her outlook wasn't always what it was when I knew her. What I need to know I probably already do, and it's this: Live simply, love your family, enjoy your time together and do what you have to do to make that happen. Oma wasn't fancy and never had a lot of money, yet I had the most fun with her as a kid. When I visited her there was always so much to do right there in the city she lived (or neighboring cities) - zoo, library, museum and so on, and when she saw fit she took advantage of opportunities to get out of town or created them herself. She went to Russia with a teacher's program, and then as I've mentioned before took a part-time job at age 65 at McDonald's to give us the opportunity to go to Europe, she also took an Alaskan tour with my aunt after that, and most recently prior to her death was talking about Egypt. The drapes hanging in her house didn't matter, as mine seem to, nor did the car she drove or what she wore. She was more interested in learning and doing and seeing different parts of the world, some close to home and some far away, and doing so with family. The month before she died she wanted to take me to a Viking cooking school (the company, not the clan) for my birthday. She was ready to go try something new, but I didn't want to for one reason or another. I wish I had. And I wish she was here now to tell me not to worry so much and just damn do something.