Books and Boards: A Dream

Books and Boards. Best idea yet.

A long long time ago, I got it in my head that I really liked books. My ideal jobs were; a librarian, a bookstore clerk, or a coffee shop barista. Well, we all know I got fired from a coffee shop. And well, sort of a library. But, of these career choices, I have yet to take on a bookstore clerk. Or, better yet, bookstore owner.

Until now.

The local bookstore is for sale. It has three floors and a basement. Baxter and I would be able to live on the second floor. Ideal since I hate moving, PLUS I hear it has three bedrooms. Suddenly, BOOM all those rent payments are going towards paying off this ginormous loan! The third floor is rented out to a yoga studio that pays $450/month. The first floor and basement are a mix of new and used books.

The catch: I'm broke. I hear you have to have money for a down payment on such a venture. Either way, I'm meeting with the realtor Wednesday to look at the entire building, and Thursday, I'm going to try to talk to the bank to see how much a loan like this would cost/how much of a down payment I'd need/is this a good idea?

My projected time frame is this:

Buy it by July.

We'd be like this. Only, we'd be at work!

By October/November turn it into a Books and Boards shop. We'll sell books and snowboards, because
well, those are the two very best things in life. Plus, across the street is a bike and ski shop. There are no board shops around here.

Then Baxter and I live happily ever after, while he rocks out at work with me.

What could possibly go wrong?

What Do You Want To Do With Your Life?

Me. The day I helped Planned
Parenthood collect
signatures for a Patient Safety Zone

Awhile ago on Twitter, someone posted a quote that said something like:

Never place your goals in people. People can let you down. Set your goals so that you can accomplish them.

It's kind of stuck with me. That was the defining moment where I realized that I could be happy being alone. I could be happy never getting married, and becoming that crazy cat and dog lady who reeks of urine.

The other night I was taken to a friend's house. Because I'd had a few beers, my (somewhat) social filter had completely disappeared. I asked questions normal sane people don't ask. (Have you had an abortion? Oh, you have a kid? Why did you decide to have the kid? How old are you now? How old is the kiddo? etc) The primary one was, "What do you want to do with your life?"

Three people eluded to, "I want to find the one." I said okay, cool, but what else? And they stalled.

I'm bitter with the Disney mentality where your Prince will come, rescue you, and save the day. It's up to you to save yourself. Save the kingdom. Save or change the world. You do that. Not your prince.

So, what happens after you find the one? Do you just...snuggle? All the time?

No. People who don't establish themselves in the world don't make healthy relationships. You need to have YOU time, and your significant other needs to have SO time. You need to come together, share a life, be partners. But also be independent.

So, I'll ask this question again:

What do YOU want to do with your life?

"Know Your Value"

Angryface
(This is me after boxing a few years back)

I've always had issues with setting boundaries; with my sisters, with my relationships, with work...etc. I talk too much and tell people my entire life story rather than easing them into it. I try to make rules and guidelines for myself and then obliterate the lines I swore I wouldn't cross again.

I had a really rough day at work yesterday. I walked in, got in a fight with my managers, was accused of lying and being a bad employee (as per usual), and overall, I felt like I was being attacked and not listened to. A customer who'd been standing outside the office during the first confrontation told me as I cashed her out, "Don't let them get to you." And though they were small words, they were like putting air in deflated lungs.

Awhile later, I was pulling forward, and some candy was out of place so I put it back. My manager flipped out on me because it was his candy and he was going to buy it later. I was called selfish, and a bad employee, etc. It's part of my job to make sure the store looks good, and that items that are out of place are put back.

After fighting for a long while, I cashed out another customer. My face was flushed, my teeth were grinding together. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, I'm angry."

She nodded. "Work stuff?"

Unsure of what to say, but not wanting to lie, I nodded.

"You need to set boundaries," she said. She paused like she was waiting for my eye contact, which I gave her. "If your boundaries are crossed..." and she left it at that. I gave handed her her change, and she smiled at me. "Know your value." Then she walked out the door.

I've been mulling over that conversation ever since. It almost seemed like she was telling me to quit my job.

So happy together...

Like my personal value was being affected by my work, and being told I'm a bad employee. It eats my soul. My needs are not met at this job. I am worth more than a barely above minimum wage job.

But it's money. It's reliable. And come December I will have accrued vacation.

Every single day, I need to remind myself, that I won't be at this job forever. It's temporary.

And then I exhale, the day goes on, and I remind myself I'm better than this. And I know, like all the times I'd sing to Baxter, "We're headed for a better life," we truly are.

The Fear of What If?

I just love books so much

I read a lot of books. It kind of comes with the writing territory. Some books are amazing (like If I Stay, Looking for Alaska, etc), and some are just okay.

But when I finish one of those great books; the ones where the characters haunt me, or the plot annoys me, or I wish I were friends with their friends, I struggle with The Fear of What If.

What if I can't ever write something this good? What if my story doesn't flow as well, if the characters never fully come to life, or if my ending doesn't conclude the way it should? What if...

my writing sucks?

Sometimes I recover quickly from these episodes. Sometimes, I hide my pen and computer for a few days saying, "Well, you should just quit while you're ahead and continue with your dead end job."

I may have a small book addiction...

But some days, I look at the books in my room. I sit among great authors like Alice Hoffman, and Kerry Cohen, and Jodi Picoult. I sit among the books I've loved, and thrown, and not cared about. Their presence brings me a sense of hope. When in doubt, I read an acknowledgement page. When I'm really, really, in doubt, ready to curl in the fetal position and cry, I look at the pictures of authors I've met.

They were like me once. They had blogs. They have tweets. They had hopes, and dreams, and they kept going. They already wrote their books. The great books that I'm jealous of are already out there. I need to write my book, with my words.

So, I open up my computer and stare at the cursor as it blinks back at me.

It's all part of the writing game. (You should keep going, too.)

I Pee in the Shower

On October 16, 2012 one of my Life Goals had been accomplished. I was in attendance for a Post Secret event and got to meet the founder of the project.

Frank Warren (the founder of PS) has a theory that we all have secrets, and if we keep them secrets they become walls. But, if we're brave and we tell those secrets, it has the ability to turn those walls into bridges (his words, not mine).

One of the most common secrets he said he gets is "I pee in the shower." I'm not gonna lie, I pee in the shower. I feel like a) it's more environmentally friendly and b) it's a time saver and c) Haha, boys. I can pee standing up, too.

You just, you know, pee first, then lather, rinse, repeat.

Anyways, at the end of the event, Frank invites the attendees to go to the microphones and say something. It can be a secret, it can be a thanks for the project, whatever. And because a year ago last week, I found out I was pregnant, and suicide was a better option than having a child, I went up to the mic. I told my story, about writing "If I test positive I'm going to kill myself," and mailing it in, about having an abortion, chopping my hair off, changing my name, and moving 1,000 miles away.

Frank Warren! I got to shake his hand!

In that aspect, I did kill myself. But, I'm alive. Because I told my friends and my dog my secret, and they kept me alive when I couldn't breathe.

The last girl at the microphone was small, and adorable. She said something along the lines of, "You know, I've always been a goodie-two-shoes. And when I got stoned out of my mind, I realized I have the best friends in the entire world."

The audience cheered for her. I cheered for her. The fourteen year old version of me who believed that Harry Potter was demonic cried a little inside, but thankfully, her voice is getting smaller and smaller by the day.

On the way home, I called my mom. For the last year I've been hiding what happened, why I moved from North Carolina. And I told her. Then we hung up, and I exhaled. I assumed she'd tell me I was a huge disappointment, or that she was disowning me. Instead, less than five minutes later, my phone rang. It was her.

"Hello?" I asked.

"I just wanted to tell you that I still love you," she said.

I smiled. My relationship with my mother is a complicated one. I grew up hating her, moved to Maine to get away from her, and now we chat on a frequent basis. I didn't tell her I loved her back, I wanted to, but I couldn't. Instead, I said, "Thank you. Thank you a lot," and we hung up again.

So, for those of you who pee in the shower, who have holes in your doors from your parents trying to break in and beat you, for those of you who have cutting scars, or want to grow up to become the cat woman, I love you. Don't be afraid of your secrets. Own them, embrace them, share them, and exhale.

You're in good company here :)