The Ankle Biter @ Quibbling.net

I don’t want you to give it all up
And leave your own life collecting dust
And I don’t want you to feel sorry for me
You never gave us a chance to be
And I don’t need you to be by my side
To tell me that everything’s alright
I just wanted you to tell me the truth
You know I’d do that for you
Why are you running away?
Why are you running away?
Cause I did enough to show you that I
Was willing to give and sacrifice
And I was the one who was lifting you up
When you thought your life had had enough
And when I get close, you turn away
There’s nothing that I can do or say
So now I need you to tell me the truth
You know I’d do that for you
So why are you running away?
Why are you running away?
Is it me, is it you
Nothing that I can do
To make you change your mind
Is it me, is it you
Nothing that I can do
Is it a waste of time?
Is it me, is it you
Nothing that I can do
To make you change your mind
So why are you running away?
Why are you running away?
…What is it I’ve got to say…
So why are you running away?
…To make you admit you’re afraid…
Why are you running away?

– Hoobastank, “Running Away”

This is basically what I spent 40% of each day on at Stars & Stripes. The only difference is that it would be for a website, rather than a series of print publications. Just a difference in production, really. I could SO do this job. And it’s in Fairfax, which is a lot closer than Rockville.

I spent my first night in the new apartment last night. On my sagging bed. It felt good.

Called my grandma this morning, just to say Hi and let her know that I am OK. She totally dug that. My uncle is coming up from Tennessee at the end of July and so I will probably try to be around for part of that.

Maddie is starting to wander around the apartment a bit. The presense of Cav and familiar furniture seems to have relaxed her a little.

This job looks cool. I’m actually qualified for it too. Kind of a bummer that it’s in Rockville- that’s a pure Beltway commute from here and would probably suck during rush hour. But I’m going to apply anyway. If I get it, maybe I stick it out for a year and then move a little closer.

And yesterday I got my shiny new Virginia drivers license. I miss my PA license. The picture was better and my address was spelled correctly. But that’s OK. Now I feel almost like a real resident. Now I just have to title my car in VA and get VA safety and emissions inspections, and I can get VA plates for Miss Parker. Perhaps I will get a vanity plate that says “MSPARKER” or some permutation thereof on it. That would be cool.

The movers showed up at 7 AM. The finally finished bringing in all our stuff at 10:30 AM. I paid them and they were gone by 10:50. It is now 6 PM and this place is actually starting to look livable. Poor Cav literally has boxes piled 6 feet high in her room. My stuff is almost totally unpacked except that the movers reassembled my bed incorrectly and now it sags on one side. I’ll have to fix that eventually, I suppose. Right now I just don’t feel like wrestling the mattress off the bed to fix it.

And Cav’s cat, Maddie, will probably hate me for the rest of her life. She’s still all bedraggled from her trip on Monday because her comb was on the moving truck. So today I got out her comb and tried to use it on her. She hates that. And then I chased her around the apartment with it. Muahaha.

I have spent much of this afternoon getting all my ducks in a row to get my VA license and vehicle registration. I transferred my insurance policy, checked into emissions inspections, dug up the address of the place where I have to get my locailty sticker, etc. As I am doing all of this, my decision to move here becomes more and more irrevocable with each phone call I make and each new peiece of documentation I get. I’m still feelinga little bit overwhelmed by all of this.

And in short, I am afraid.

I am afraid that I won’t find a job here. I am afraid that in a year I’ll be broke and working at McDonald’s just to pay the rent. I am afraid that Cav will hate it here and blame me for talking her into moving down with me. I am afraid that the beginnings of the life I have struggled to make for myself down here will collapse due to things that are beyond my control.

It’s paralyzing. I find myself trying to find reasons not to apply for jobs that are open because I am afraid of writing a bad cover letter, or because I am afraid of getting the job and then not being able to perform in it.

But none of that is a good enough reason not to chase this down. I want this. I’ve wanted this for a long time. And not pursuing it just because I am afraid of what will happen if I do is nothing short of ridiculous. It would be a self fulfilling prophecy. I can’t find a job if I don’t send out resumes. I can’t build a life down here if I don’t bring the parts of my old life down here with me.

We learn to love by loving. We learn to live by living. Running away in fear is a terrible reason to do anything. It would be like deciding that I might as well run over the little old lady crossing the street because if I try to pass behind her, I run the risk of tapping her with my mirror. What kind of sense does that make? It makes no sense not to send a resume because I am afraid I won’t get the job. I can’t quit doing something just because I’m afraid I’ll screw it up, because then I’ll never give myself a fair chance to do it right.

Fear is a terrible, ugly thing. But I won’t give in to it.

So I was trying to do the Google fun that some of my friends with LJs have been playing… the one where you search on “[Your First Name] is” on Google and see what comes up. I foundthis game, a site about a particular breed of cat, and a whole bunch of pr0n sites. So I’m not going to post ALL the results here. A selected few:

Tiffany is feeling real frisky!
Tiffany is going to kill you.
Tiffany is silent no more.
Tiffany is still on steroids to keep her brain fluid draining, so she’s rather puffy, but otherwise she’s doing well.
Reach 100 Mojo and Tiffany is yours.
The name Tiffany is recognized internationally as a trademark of beauty and elegance.
Tiffany is so tasty!
Tiffany is a world famous store that continues to sell high quality, and very expensive items such as jewelry, crystal, and china.
Tiffany is what you would call a natural; she has amazing stage presence ad the ability to grasp material quickly.
Tiffany is the first rose that I remember growing when I was helping my Grandmother do the gardening.
Tiffany is madly in love with her husband, Timothy, and they have four beautiful children.

I am sitting on my living room floor in front of my hastily-reassembled computer. I have been sitting here for about 4 hours. I just sent an application to the FBI and a resume to Tom’s friend Lisa who works at Randstad. I still have a couple of lists to get together for Victory. But instead I am blogging.

I’ve really done it. I have picked up my entire life and moved it 250 miles away. I realized several months ago that I had reached a point in my life where I wasn’t really working toward anything. I was kind of along for the ride in my own life. I was working at a job I didn’t especially like, waiting for another job to come through that I didn’t really expect to. One by one, the reasons I had chosen to put my life into that kind of holding pattern had disintegrated until I wasn’t really sure why I got up every morning.

I didn’t like that feeling at all. So I thought of some of the things I had put on hold and decided to chase them down. It was time to move away. And I’ve done it. I’m nervous, edgy, excited, and exhilarated all at once. I feel like I’m regaining control of my circumstances. Being a control freak, I’m sleeping a ittle better at night, and I’m happier.

The night Cav and I got here, the night we THOUGHT the movers were coming Tom came over and brought us ice cream (which was outrageously sweet of him, btw). Cav went outside with 420 Boy (who also lives down here and will be her new boss come Monday) for a cigarette. Tom and I sat on the floor of the living room against the far wall, eating ice cream. I looked around the room, with boxes and bags scattered around it and laughed. “I really did it, Tom. This is real now.”

I’m still coming to grips with all of it. But this is very cool.

OK, so after telling us we’d have our furniture the same day the movers
picked it up, Cav and I rush down to the apartment in Alexandria to make
sure the place is unlocked and all the boxes we have already moved are out
of the way. The movers don’t show. We call them, and the dispatcher
says, “Oh no, they’re delivering your stuff on Friday? Where on earth did
you get the idea that you’d have it the same day?” “Um, from YOUR STAFF.”
“Oh, well I can’t imagine why they’d say that when they know better.
There must have been a miscommunication. Sorry about that.” “Yeah, maybe
I’ll give a rat’s ass about your apology when I have a BED to sleep in,
you idiot.”
That would be the condensed version of the conversation in which I ripped
the dispatcher a new one and got exactly nowhere. So Cav and I will be
sending a certified letter to the owner of the company to express our
extreme dissatisfaction with the whole process.
While I was yelling at the dispatcher, he had the nerve to ask me for the
credit card information we would be using to pay the balance of the move
on. I told him I would give him that information when I had furniture,
but not a moment before.
Other than that, DC is great… Went to an Orioles game last night. The
Orioles won, but more importantly, the Yankees lost. Yeah baby. And Tom
at a baseball game is more entertaining than the game itself.