26 March 2010


I wrote this post about a month ago in response to one of the Writer's Workshop prompts at Mama's Losin' It. I didn't post it. But now feel like the right time. This week, Twitter became 'unsafe' for a minute (and possibly much longer - this isn't okay to me.)

The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned” ~ Maya Angelou 

Home. The place you belong. The place where you are happy?

This quote from Maya Angelou is so true. 

Right now, I do not have a home in this context. Sure, I have a house. The same house I've lived in for the past six years. With the same people I've lived with for the past 25 years. 

Lately however, I do not feel safe. I have not felt safe in some ways for quite some time, but lately, anytime I say anything or make any decision, I am jumped on. I am either given a look saying "don't bother I don't want to talk to you or hear your concerns" or it's said "shut up, shhh, stop talking." Why thank you? 

When people ask me why I use twitter or why I spend so much time on my computer, I'm never quite sure how to answer without offending. I use twitter and I blog because I feel SAFE. I feel like even if no one ever says anything here, I can vent, I can express things that are bothering me. And yet, I'm so sensitive that when someone says something in response on twitter, I am often quick to take it the wrong way. So really, how safe is that? 

I cannot right now move. I can however continue looking for a job in a state 1000 miles away. I can continue to look at apartments and imagine decorating. I can dream of making my own home.

And hopefully six months from now, that home will exist.

01 March 2010


I am one of the shyest people you'll meet (in fact? You probably won't. Because I won't say hi). I don't talk in groups, I have never made it through a speech without tears. I panic upon hearing that speaking is a requirement in anything. I dropped more than one university class upon reading a syllabus that mentioned presentations.

I was an education major. Speaking is required to teach. And you know what? I came out a darn good teacher after some subbing and student teaching. Talking to seven years olds is a heck of a lot easier than telling a group of adults who are all older than you what to do and how to teach.

Oddly enough? I'm very active online. I've sent 8000 tweets in about 18 months, many of those in response to others. This is my 489th blog post. I read and (occasionally!) comment on 50 or so blogs. I feel safe in doing so, most of the time I think this is because it's not face to face. There is less pressure. Or something.

I am going to meet one of the people I tweet with most (along with a couple others I imagine) in 10 days. I have had two panic attacks already. One when booking a room (why does it have to be so hard to pick a place to sleep for six hours two nights in a row?) and the other when I thought about meeting up.

I want to do this. I need to get out of town. I am excited to meet these people. So why is it so hard? I don't want to spend my four hour drive stressing about what's going to happen. Maybe by typing it out I can calm myself some.

I can only hope.

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