Arrival

For breakfast this morning I had Reese's Puffs, which was a considerable upgrade to the cookie dough I'd been eating before cereal was purchased.

Setting: Oklahoma City, 96 degrees.

Today I practiced waking up at the time a normal adult would. Around 6:45. This happened because my first day of work is in two days and I'll be getting there at 7. Can you believe it- I had breakfast, a snack, lunch, did a load of laundry, showered and got dressed, painted my nails, finished memorizing Romans 12, read 100 pages in a book, cleaned my room, patched a hole in my pants, and practiced some tricks with the dog- all before 11:20 AM. It is now 1:25, and after a two hour nap, I'm eating a salad, which, since it is still technically "lunch time", can be considered part of lunch. Some people justify this sort of constant eating with the popular phrase, "I'm a grazer", and I'll be the first to say it. Although we all know what it means. It means you're one of those people who goes grocery shopping infrequently and so when you do you can't keep your hands off the food in the house.

First things first- I am living in a bachelor pad. Only for about ten more days though, I hope. I arrived here five days ago, and I can't move in with my new roommates until the beginning of August. Jonathan and his roommate were kind enough to let me live at their house for half of a month. Enough business talk. Let me tell you what a bachelor pad is like.

1. All the plates and bowls have moose on them.
2. The TV is unnecessarily large and has an equally ostentatious sound system.
3. The dog's food is stored and delivered in the kitchen.
4. Everything is an uninspired shade of plaid.
5. There is no baking soda, flour, or eggs, but there is an obscenely large liquor display.

Everything that I could fit in my car on the 20-hour drive out here is currently in a storage room with a drum set pushed to one side and a closet full of empty suitcases, leather jackets, and obsolete electronics. The air mattress I sleep on is also in that room. I have become very creative about organizing and storing clothes- pajamas in the laundry basket, belts in one shoebox, socks in another, dresses in the bathroom trashcan (luckily I've always put bags in that one, meaning it was clean enough to replace a dresser), shirts on top of the VCR, jackets in a suitcase, everything else in stacks and in my suitcase.

Someone needs to be here studying the circumstances which could make you go crazy.

One more precious detail. Do you know what it feels like to almost break the awkward barrier? (I don't know what happens when you cross the tolerable level of awkwardness, but we may find out). Have you ever been alone in a house with a man whom you barely know, who is an expert at awkward chit-chat, sitting at the kitchen table in your pajamas, writing in your journal at 8:30 in the morning, and it's his house? You are the awkward intruder? For months, I was livid with my boyfriend for living with other girls, and now, I AM REAPING WHAT I SOWED! The suffering he must have endured!! First, from tripping over furniture that was not his, trying to be polite to strangers, remembering to stay fully clothed, walking past dinners to which he was not invited- THIS IS A CRUEL AND UNUSUAL FORM OF AWKWARDNESS THAT I MANAGED TO BE IGNORANT ABOUT FOR 25 YEARS!!! And here it is!! Laughing in my face! I deserve it. It's the consequences I earned for judging him when he was in a desperate position. I feel such healthy, strong, deep remorse.

Let's lighten the mood by telling you some positive things about living with two men in the military.
1. Someone is always in costume.
2. I don't have to pay for anything.
3. My social skills are being refined in a fire.
4. The house is tidy.
5. I learned how to use a grill.

I visited my school yesterday. That's when I discovered work started in two days, I hadn't been sent a contract yet, 63 new teachers are being hired, there are 1600 students there, and I look more like my high school students than the faculty I'm working with. If you closed your eyes and teleported unknowingly to the area my school was in, you'd think you were in Mexico. Everything is in Spanish. Restaurants, signs, billboards, everything. HERE I COME, LATIN AMERICA! I'm so excited I found a way to leave the country.

Which, by the way, Oklahoma is ANOTHER COUNTRY. Another planet, really. Although I haven't made friends yet (I'm counting down the hours until dinner with my roommates tonight- 5)- I've been out of the house some. This city is a tangled mess of under-construction interstates, grass yellowed from the relentless heat, overweight Americans (where can you exercise?), abandoned malls, sun-faded wood fences boxing up ugly cookie cutter suburban sprawl, and chain restaurants. I think my cooking skills will take a turn for the better. It's either cook at home or embrace obesity. From what I can see, this city is the American stereotype.

I have noticed, though, that people are friendly. That's good.

And I'm glad I'm here. I'm so grateful I have a job. God is stretching my faith and it's one of those stretching experiences where I feel like it's just too much and I'm reacting badly. Stressing about money, fighting myself to get creative and leave the house, I guess all the typical things when you move to a new place. I'm sure once I start working I won't be contemplating whether to wipe the counter again or make a broccoli casserole. I'll be forced to be productive. I need that- I can be very productive, but only if there's some sort of deadline in place. For example, I planned on going to the (drive through) Starbucks (isn't that a little ANTI-COFFEE SHOP?) to sit inside and research how to teach ELL, but haven't because I don't know what type of drink I'd get and I'm already sitting here in the kitchen. I'm contemplating a run (oooh, it's been about a month), but I'm not sure how it would feel. I guess there's only one way to find out!

The End.